Showdown 3
"But I expected more."
Adams rose from his seat, his eyes narrowing as he regarded the scene before him. In the blink of an eye, he was in the arena, standing directly in front of the master, Gale. The atmosphere grew tense as the disciples watched with bated breath, wondering what their sect master would do next.
"Gale," Adams began, his voice low and edged with disappointment. "You and your apprentice have truly let me down. I know that fighting isn't exactly your strong suit, but I expected more—much more. To be honest, what I witnessed was barely worth my time. You're not even bleeding, not even showing the slightest sign that you've just been in a fight. It was as if you were merely playing around. I wouldn't even call it a spar, to be frank."
Adams' tone was calm, almost bored, as if the fight had failed to provide him with the entertainment he sought. He turned away slightly, as if losing interest, his gaze sweeping over the arena with a hint of disdain.