Wu Hao came back to his basement room. He'd spent the day before the tournament sitting alone at his desk, touching nothing, meditating. Just to make sure that when he died and was revived, he'd be in a position to think about why, and how he could make sure that it didn't happen again.
He really should have expected this.
Still - it stung. Not physically, because he was in perfect condition again, but the mental sting of knowing that he'd been defeated and that he had to reset still sucked.
Grimacing, he turned his attention to the announcement in blue, shining in the corner of his vision. He accepted the prompt after bracing himself. Knowledge came rushing in, but whether it was because he'd already had three fragments of this particular art or if he'd had so much deaths already, it didn't really hurt as much. There was a slight sting in his head, but even that headache cleared up soon enough, allowing him to think again.
The new technique was the fourth part of the One Shot Spear Art, which was named the Tendon Cutter. It wasn't a technique in the line of the first and third techniques, which were the Heart Seeker and the Lung Collapser respectively, and neither was it really a technique that resembled the Skull Crusher. It was its own thing: not a stab, not a smash, but a series of short slashes with the spearhead at the various tendons, borrowing the force of a spin to rip through all muscles it encountered.
Also interesting that it wasn't a technique meant to kill, although it was a technique meant to end a fight decisively. Its intent was to disable, which left the target at the user's mercy.
That didn't mean it couldn't be used to kill, but it'd require warping the qi loop somewhat to make the set path that the technique required deviate from its predefined orbit. At the cost of effectiveness, though.
Wu Hao hadn't noticed this before, but he was coming to realize something about Sky-tier techniques. The thing that he'd thought before was that Earth-tier techniques consisted of single, simple movements. The Heavy Fist Art was a stance and a series of punches, which he could use qi to make more lethal, but that was all. The fundamental essence there was the movement itself; the qi being used to make it stronger was because he boosted his muscles by pushing qi through them, not a property of the technique itself.
Sky-tier techniques, on the other hand, were combinations of a specific attunement and movements that had been optimized to make proper use of that attunement.
One example was his own Storm-Cutting Saber Art. Its core nature consisted of creating thunder-attuned qi, which was then funnelled into specific attacks with the saber. The Tempest Slash was a slash that used the fast, punishing nature of thunder-attuned qi to strike hard and fast in a way that would be simply stupid with a regular saber.
Another example was Su Biao's own Misty Sea Art. Or, well - not her own. That of her sect. He didn't doubt the same sect had several others. The point was, that sea of qi that she had created had given her a solid mix of offense and defense.
It was a clever combination, he grudgingly allowed. Especially compared to the One Shot Spear Art, which he still wasn't much of a fan of.
Thinking about it, that was one of the advantages of being in a sect, instead of learning haphazard techniques from a floating blue box.
Every single art worked together. The movement art that she'd used, the spear art, the internal cultivation art, even the weapon that she'd used. There were others too that he hadn't even thought about, he was sure. All of them had been either created or specifically brought together for their effects. Her internal cultivation art had allowed her to create a sea in which her movement art had allowed her to swim, metaphorically.
Similarly, the Misty Sea Spear Art had allowed her to make the most of that sea of qi that surrounded her. He had thought of that spearhead bobbing up on the waves of qi that she'd created, and now that he was thinking about it, perhaps that was the intended effect.
Heaven-tier techniques... well, he wasn't sure at all what they actually required. A specific kind of attunement, yes, but despite having had every part of the Sky-Severing Saber down, he hadn't been able to use it properly until he'd realized that the storm had mattered. The exact movement hadn't even seemed to matter then.
Wu Hao leaned back in his chair, thinking.
Could he do something like the effect she'd gotten? He'd learned a movement art, had learned a internal art, had learned a spear art. So far it had all worked, but it was becoming clear that the pieces didn't quite fit together. Regardless of using a knife, a saber, or a spear, none of it had ever quite come together into a seamless whole.
With a grimace on his face, he sighed and let the thoughts flow away from him.
Unlike what he'd done the last time living through the day, Wu Hao went out again. When he reached the garden, though, he didn't head out, didn't bother to try and circumvent the wards on the walls.
Instead, he held his spear upright, qi making it so he didn't feel any strain even while wielding its sizeable length. He drew back slowly, feeling every movement carefully as he went through a dry run of the duel that he'd just had.
There were a few weak spots, here and there. Su Biao had been strong - was strong - but she wasn't invincible. None of them were. He just had to carefully identify them, work out how to strike at them, and then proceed from there.
Simple, in theory.
From his slow movement he suddenly erupted with strength, both hands forcing the spear forward to stab at an invisible target. He didn't use qi, feeling every single part of how his muscles responded to the ingrained motion as much as he could.
He pulled back, focused on his spear, did it again, trying to make sense of every part of the motion.
Driven by a desire simply not to lose, he began to replay parts of the duel. He played the role of Hao Wu and Su Biao again and again, despite her movements feeling awkward. More than once he nearly tripped, because the way he was handling the spear left him out of balance.
Another reason why hers was custom work, he supposed.
Other things he just wasn't able to copy, not even imperfectly. He didn't have her specific attunement to qi, couldn't replicate the way her spearhead had gracefully ridden the waves.
But he imagined himself fighting against her, repeating the fight exactly as it had been. He tried to imagine how she would have reacted, making a mental model of her.
Then he tried his level best to try and beat that model into the ground.
When night fell and drove him back inside, he hadn't succeeded in beating her more than half the time, if that. There had been significant parts of the model he had built that he simply didn't know enough about her to fill in, which meant the real success rate would probably be even lower.
Still, his odds had risen, especially with his modifications to his spear.
Thinking that over, he went to bed. The next morning he woke up and didn't bother hurrying as much as he had, knowing more or less exactly how much time he had left.
Wu Hao - in the shape of Hao Wu - landed near the arena just ten minutes before it would start. One of the junior officials sent him a glance that was equal parts annoyance and relief. Not hard to figure out that that particular boy had been waiting for him to show up.
He did briefly wonder what would happen if he simply didn't show, but he imagined the organizers really didn't care. He was expected to lose, after all. If he wasn't there at all, that would count as a loss, and whoever his opponent would have been would get a free pass to the next round.
Tai Buzhou spoke, shouted, and gesticulated throughout his speech about the storied traditions of the Alliance.
He was going to get very, very sick of hearing that speech, he was sure of that already. Its meaningless platitudes had grated the first time he'd heard them and they didn't improve.
Yes, the Martial Arts Alliance had been glorious once. That glory had not been carried through into his time, though, that was for sure. They were pretty clearly losing the war when he'd started turning back time. He wondered if Ke Jiaming, the Moon Sovereign who was part of the Cult in secret, found this entire speech funny.
He did risk a glance at the man, but he didn't even register in those crystal-blue eyes. Instead, they were looking at someone else in the group of sixteen.
Wu Hao craned his head, following the man's gaze, and saw that he was staring at someone with a frizzy mess of hair. They were short, but there was something boyish to the cast of their face, especially those fuzzy eyebrows...
Wait.
Blinking once, twice, Wu Hao exhaled in a sigh of surprise.
That was Du Linglong. The girl who had killed him. The girl who had been the cause of the Red Dawn Sect being involved at all.
The granddaughter of the Sword Sovereign.
She stood there, looking small but determined, nodding at the required points of Tai Buzhou's speech. Ke Jiazhen, her... whatever he was to her, wasn't nearby, though. The bright orange of her robes gave her away as being the Diancang Sect's entry for the third-grade.
Wu Hao felt a small smile curl its way onto his lips, before he wrestled it down.
So. They were standing on the same stage once again.
This would be interesting, he thought, before those same thoughts were interrupted by a soft cough next to him. He turned, watched Ao Ying nod at him, and then he spoke.
"You are Hao Wu," he said.
"I am. You are Ao Ying?"
They exchanged a nod, though Ao Ying seemed surprised.
"You know me?" the older man said.
"I know enough," Wu Hao said. Honestly, he had no rational reason to do this, but Ao Ying hadn't been a total bastard to him and he knew well enough the feeling of having a part of your body torn into like that. "I have a piece of advice."
"If it is to tell me to abandon this, as so many have attempted -"
"No," Wu Hao said, staring straight ahead. "I wouldn't. But - just in case - if you happen to fight Mo Ritian, his first move will be a flickering step and he'll aim for your chest with his sword. Try to block it somehow."
"Mo Ritian?" Ao Ying asked, his expression scrunching momentarily into a frown. "Of the Zhongnan Sect? Why him, specifically?"
"Just a premonition," Wu Hao responded. "Ignore it if you don't."
Ao Ying nodded, his expression grave. "I don't understand, but I will keep it in mind."
His qi emanated a quiet sense of disquiet, though it was swallowed into that same pool soon enough, leaving it calm and undisturbed. Ao Ying turned back to the front, where Tai Buzhou's long speech had finally wrapped up.
"Ao Ying, first winner of the public matches, please come here!"
Sword in hand, he did. He was offered the bag, but not before Tai Buzhou let qi drip into the bag itself. The bag distorted for a bit, though only in Wu Hao's senses, and to anyone else it probably would've just looked like the result of Tai Buzhou allowing someone to put their hand inside.
Ao Ying's hand dove in and Wu Hao watched his movements carefully. His movements were different - digging slightly deeper, whereas before he'd simply taken the first. Again, the token that he drew depicted a lightning bolt striking a patch of earth. Surprise ran through Ao Ying's qi, though his face remained imperturbable.
He did cast a long glance at Wu Hao, who nodded at him in return.
"Mo Ritian, of the Zhongnan Sect!" Tai Buzhou announced, holding the token up high in the air.
Wu Hao had already turned, halfway off the arena before the announcement had come.
The match started the same as last time - Ao Ying tried to introduce himself, before Mo Ritian shot him down.
Then Mo Ritian disappeared into nothingness. Ao Ying's sword was still rising when Mo Ritian appeared behind him, but unlike last time there was no desperate attempt to turn around to keep Mo Ritian within sight.
Instead, the loud clash of steel against steel rang out as Mo Ritian reappeared out thin air, his momentum stopped by the fact that Ao Ying had just blocked his first blow.
"My word!" Tai Buzhou exclaimed. "The Zhongnan Sect's Mo Ritian's first attack was blocked!"
But their swords were fighting for dominance, that much was clear. Mo Ritian only held his sword with a single hand and was pressing down on Ao Ying, who was holding up his sword with both hands and barely holding on.
Finally, though, Ao Ying managed to push Mo Ritian back, who pivoted swiftly the moment that his foot touched the ground and disappeared again.
Wu Hao's eyes tried to follow where the other boy had gone, but in the space of two more heartbeats, Mo Ritian appeared again - on the other side of Ao Ying, this time.
Blood flecked from his sword, until he shook it out.
Behind him, Ao Ying stared at the cut that had been carved across his chest and then collapsed entirely.
Two blows, Wu Hao thought, looking at Mo Ritian's back. A very faint notch of surprised approval had carved its way into the other boy's qi. That was one blow more than Ao Ying had managed to take last time.
Progress, even if it was slight.
A few minutes later, like Ao Ying before him, he came up with the same token that he'd drawn last time. Again, that same shifting flicker of qi had run through the bag. He had a few ideas about how it worked, but that didn't matter.
It was time to see how much progress he himself had made in one afternoon.