The Sky Between Two Kingdoms

The morning sky over the Yi Dynasty was veiled in a thin mist.

Yet the training courtyard behind the Diplomatic Hall was already alive—not with noise, but with tension.

Something was about to happen.

A major duel.

Sri, the Senapati Anom of the Medang Kingdom, stood on the left side of the arena.

Han Yue, Shadow Guard of the Yi Dynasty, stood on the right.

Both gripped a staff—wooden, heavy, long, but flexible.

This wasn't for show.

These were weapons.

Chen, Mei Lin, and Fei Xuan sat on the right bench, a plate of peanuts between them and a small basket of silver coins.

 "One coin on Lady Sri," whispered Mei Lin.

 "I'll put two on Han Yue," Fei Xuan replied with flair.

Chen wasn't betting.

But in his head, a full-length seminar had begun.

If they're going all out... and I was their opponent... I'd end up as Crown Prince-flavored chicken soup...

Before the duel began, Sri gave Han Yue a sharp stare.

 "Don't hold back just because I'm a woman. I don't need pity from anyone's shadow. I'm a soldier."

Han Yue bowed slightly.

 "And I only know how to fight with my whole heart."

 "Good," Sri lowered her staff into ready stance. "Then... let's kill each other kindly."

The first move came like wind.

Han Yue stepped in lightly and slashed horizontally.

Sri blocked with a sweeping parry, then countered with a low arc toward Han Yue's knees.

 "Hyaaaa!"

Staffs clashed.

Thud! Thak! Clap!

filled the air.

Han Yue spun her staff in dizzying speed, like wind tossing leaves.

Sri bent her knees, anchoring herself in Gajah Ngidang stance—stable, low, and sudden—then lunged upward.

Chen winced.

 "I can see the veins bulging in Han Yue's neck... This isn't a spar. This is a demon duel fueled by muscle and discipline."

Mei Lin glanced over, serious.

 "Your Highness, please stay seated. We don't want Sri to see you... you know why."

Chen straightened instantly.

 "I just wanted a better vantage point, I swear."

Han Yue leapt, spinning mid-air. Her staff spiraled like a wheel.

Sri stepped back once—then thrust forward toward the chest.

Two movements canceled each other.

Then, in perfect sync, they—

Struck. Blocked. Twisted. Swept.

Their footwork was poetry.

Sometimes swift, sometimes still. Sometimes a dance, sometimes a death threat.

 "If I were the staff, I'd have snapped in five places," Fei Xuan muttered, chewing peanuts.

 "If I were His Highness, I'd have faked a faint to avoid being asked to spar," Mei Lin added.

The final flurry came fast.

Sri swept low. Han Yue jumped.

Han Yue jabbed high. Sri twisted and blocked in a reverse grip.

Their staffs tangled mid-air.

Locked in a push, eyes locked on each other.

A silent beat.

Then—

They stepped back.

Bowed.

 "Draw," said Sri.

 "Agreed," Han Yue replied.

Chen gaped.

 "By the Dynasty, I swear I'll never challenge either of them. Not even for rock-paper-scissors. I forfeit."

Mei Lin and Fei Xuan retrieved their coins.

Fei Xuan murmured,

 "The real victory… is watching them move like that..."

 "…and not being the target."

Chen shot him a look.

 "Fei, do you realize that was poetic and terrifying at the same time?"