Dust still rises from the spot where Motorhead split the earth beside Zhang Xi.
Oliver keeps both hands on the haft, his body tilted by the force he put into the swing himself. He doesn't fall, because he's strong enough to hold the mistake in muscle, but strength doesn't erase physics. Motorhead carries too much weight in the head, and Zhang Xi didn't need to beat that weight. She only needed to change its direction the instant Oliver was already committed.
That's what makes the monk dangerous.
She doesn't contest the blow.
She waits for the blow to become an obligation.
Oliver pulls Motorhead back, slower this time. His first reaction was irritation. His second is better: attention. His feet reposition in the circle, one forward, the other open on the diagonal, and the hammer drops from his shoulder to hip level.
'Less spectacle, less reach, more control. Smart…'
Zhang Xi keeps the fan open in front of her chest.
