Jin kept his grip on the broken katana, gaze steady. "Jin Yeong."
A beat passed. The man didn't blink.
"You carry that blade like it belongs to you," he said. "It doesn't."
Jin raised an eyebrow. "Didn't know I needed permission to use it."
"You do," the man said, stepping forward. "And you don't have it."
Jin angled his stance slightly, his body quiet, focused. "Then I guess we have a problem."
The stranger didn't answer.
He moved.
One blur of motion—faster than a man that size should've been able to manage. Jin's body responded before his mind did, dragging him to the side just as the blade came down in a clean vertical cut that split the air like thunder.
The force alone nearly pulled Jin off balance.
He twisted, skidding along the polished stone, just managing to re-center himself before the next strike came. The man was already on him again—no wasted breath, no warning.
This wasn't a duel.
It was an execution.
