Amador stepped forward again, raising his right arm high again, and slow-motioned his strike down. Jack repeated his block. But when their arms connected, Amador twisted his wrist and turned his elbow in. The dull practice karambit blade turned sharply into Jack’s arm. Faster than an eye blink, the dull blade bit deeper as Amador turned farther and pulled his arm down. The pressure was intense and the leverage against Jack’s arm nearly threw him over. Amador disengaged before Jack lost his balance.

“Of course, with a properly sharpened blade, your arm would be sliced to the bone. You wouldn’t think about the counterpunch. Your brain would be screaming—‘My arm is cut off!’” Amador laughed again.

Jack was impressed. He rubbed his forearm where the blade had touched him. Dom and Martinez nodded appreciatively.

“You’re not injured, are you?” Amador asked, genuinely concerned.

“No, not at all. Just . . . surprised.”

Amador grinned. “Good. Let’s try one more. Same move by me. But a question first. What is the first thing you’re usually taught when you have no weapon but are being attacked by a man with a knife?”

“Attack the knife. Disarm him,” Jack said.

“Correct. So this time, I will make my clumsy attack and I want you to seize my wrist with one hand and then rip the knife out with the other, just the way you’ve been taught.”

Amador threw another slow-motion overhead strike, driving the blade down toward Jack’s head. Jack countered by seizing Amador’s small wrist in his left hand, then reached for Amador’s gripping hand with his right in an attempt to seize the knife.

“Stop,” Amador said.

Jack froze in place. Amador turned his head to the others seated on the mat.

“You see Jack’s firm grip on my wrist? Very strong! It’s a good move, isn’t it? But watch.” Amador simply twisted his trapped wrist and hand, and the curved blade came into contact with Jack’s wrist. “A real blade instantly cuts through the muscle and tendons of his left hand before his right hand can grab my knife. The pain in his left hand will also cause it to pull away if it can, and his right hand will involuntarily reach for the wounded one. That allows me to continue my attack.”

“Ouch,” Jack said. He could imagine the blood spurting out of the resulting wound that would have disabled his hand and maybe even severed it from the wrist.

“Let’s do some more work,” Amador said. The Kali master coiled, then sped like a skater toward his larger opponent, his shoeless brown feet barely touching the mat, the calluses scraping like a file on sandpaper. Then the slow-motion death dance began again.