Ma drew the narrow knife and lunged before Yan could reach the open aisle. Yan turned his shoulder through the first step of the complete footwork form, but the blade cut through his work sleeve and opened his upper arm. Blood ran down his forearm. His grip weakened at once.
The pain was sharp and immediate. No System notice appeared. The cut was an outside injury from a real blade; it hurt exactly as a knife should. Yan kept moving instead of standing still to trust his cultivation.
The sleeve split with a dry rip. Yan felt the cut open and blood warm his arm. His hand wanted to close around the wound, but the knife remained between him and the aisle. He kept the injured arm close to his chest and shifted his weight away from the next stroke. The footwork form’s first turn was not a shield; it moved his body out of the blade’s path. The knife had still found him before the step finished.
He gathered his frame with Ashen Marrow. The method’s internal marrow strain became stronger bones, a warm reinforcement through his shoulder and arm. It did not close the wound or stop the blood. Ma came again. Yan angled away with the second step of the footwork form. The form’s tendon strain changed into stronger tendons before it could injure him, and his movement stayed quick and controlled.
The knife grazed his sleeve and skin a second time along the outside of his forearm. A shallow line opened below the deeper cut. Yan kept the drying rack between himself and Ma, moving along the aisle toward Ren’s cart.
The shallow cut bled less, but his grip became slick where the first wound ran down to his wrist. He tried to use the crossbar with his left hand, then changed to his forearm when the grip slipped. Ma swung again, striking the rack instead of Yan. Bundles of dried herbs shook loose overhead. Yan ducked under the hanging ends, careful not to catch his face, and reached the next gap between the poles.
He did not trust the marrow reinforcement to make a knife harmless. He used the frame to make the blade travel farther around him. The post was broad enough to block Ma’s reach, but narrow enough that Yan could step through the gap. He kept the injured arm against his body and used the other hand to guide the bar. His fingers had become slick with blood. Ma drove him backward, and Yan’s shoulder struck a rack post. The impact bruised the joint and sent pain across his upper arm.
Yan turned with the third step. He slipped behind the hanging herbs and placed the rack’s crossbar between Ma and his chest. Ma’s next lunge struck the bar. Yan used the wood to redirect the knife hand outward. The blade scraped the crossbar and missed his ribs.
“Stop!” Ren shouted.
Ma shoved the rack. Bundles of dried herbs swung overhead. Yan’s boots slid against dust, but the cart wheel behind him gave him a fixed point to brace against.
Ren held the cart handles and kept it from rolling into the rack. “I’ve got the wheel. Move away from the post.”
Yan could not move straight past Ma. He stepped sideways along the rack, letting the poles narrow the angle of the attack. The knife struck a wooden peg, then came around again. Yan felt the impact in his shoulder when Ma drove him against the post. The bruise spread under the skin, painful when he lifted the arm. He used the third step to turn away from the blade, not to strike back. He caught the side rail with his uninjured hand and pushed the knife farther away. The shallow slice stung beneath the torn sleeve. He could feel blood on his forearm and the bruise swelling at his shoulder.
Ma reached over the crossbar to strike again. Yan waited until Ma’s wrist passed the post, then trapped it against the wood.
The hold was close enough that Yan could see Ma’s fingers tightening around the handle. He pressed the wrist against the post with his forearm and used the post as leverage. He did not twist until he felt Ma’s arm stop moving forward. The knife hand turned outward. Ma’s grip loosened, then opened. He twisted the knife hand outward and forced the fingers open. The knife clattered onto the stone. Yan kicked it beneath the empty cart, beyond Ma’s reach.
Ma hit the rack with his shoulder. Yan held his wrist against the post, careful not to wrench it further. He was angry and bleeding, but he did not strike Ma again. Ren shoved the cart crosswise across the aisle and called for the yard guard.
The fight had lasted only a few breaths, but each movement had taken its own decision: keep the blade away from his chest, use the frame, do not let the cart roll, stop when Ma lost the knife. Yan’s right sleeve was torn from shoulder to forearm, his upper-arm cut bleeding steadily. The shallow forearm slice left a thinner line below it. His shoulder throbbed where it had hit the post. The internal tendon strain from the footwork had become strength; the outside wounds had not changed.
“Let go,” Ma snarled.
“When the guard takes the knife.”
Ren kept the cart locked across the aisle. “The guard is coming.”
Two porters appeared at the far entrance. One ran toward the yard gate while the other stayed behind the cart. Yan loosened his hold just enough to keep Ma’s wrist from turning, then pressed his bleeding upper arm against his chest to slow the flow.
“Don’t move,” he told Ma. “You’ve already lost the knife.”
Ma tried to pull away. Yan kept his stance low and used the rack post to hold him, not to cause another injury. The porters waited for the guard. One fetched clean cloth from the herb store while the other blocked the open lane.
Yard Guard Pei arrived with a second guard. He saw the blood on Yan’s sleeve and Ma pinned against the rack. “Who drew the knife?”
“Ma did,” Ren said. “He blocked Yan’s path and pulled it before Yan moved.”
Ma jerked once. “He used a forbidden technique and grabbed me.”
Yan kept Ma’s hand against the post. “The knife is under the cart. I haven’t struck him.”
Pei reached for the cloth and told Yan to keep pressure on the arm. The second guard took Ma’s free wrist. Pei told Yan to release only when both of Ma’s hands were secured. Yan waited until the irons closed, then stepped away.
His upper arm still bled through the sleeve. The cut was deep enough to need a physician, and the shoulder bruise made his arm difficult to lift. The footwork had protected him from the next strike, but it had not kept Ma’s blade from reaching his skin. Ren pointed to the cart where the knife lay under the wheel. Pei ordered the second guard to retrieve it with tongs.