[Zhongli pauses. He... did not expect Diarmuid to yield. How long has it been since they started the match? He forgot they were being watched. His eyes turn from draconic slits into wider, softer diamond-shaped pupils as he returns to himself.]

My friend, [he says as he kneels,] you did very well.

[He slips his arms beneath Diarmuid's and helps him up with his strength, which seems renewed despite the blood.]

Thank you for the match. Despite my victory here, I believe your skills are peerless. I won't soon forget your mastery of the lance. Aengus Óg must be proud.