Blood poured from the wound in Su Yang's abdomen, hot and unrelenting as it painted the arena floor beneath him red—but Su Yang did not glance down.
He couldn't afford to.
Not when Su Ran was still breathing, as doing so while his trash brother was still alive, would give him a moment of immense satisfaction.
*Tremble*
His sword trembled in his grip, not from fear or hesitation, but from the sheer strain of forcing his mangled body to keep moving.
His breaths came in ragged, shallow gasps, each one scraping through clenched teeth, but his eyes—they were still sharp. Still locked onto his brother with a fury that could burn through steel.
The spear wound had torn a hole straight through his abdomen, but Su Yang still stood tall with his feet planted and his sword raised, as he did not show signs of slowing down at all.
He refused to stagger.
He refused to kneel.
And that too out of sheer pride and nothing else,
Because he knew that if he did falter here—Su Ran would win.
