Oh, his hearing is absolutely that good, despite the slight disorientation; there's a sword, the shush of fabric, another person (who laughs for some reason?), and then his stick connects with something— something rather heavy, even, but it doesn't stop him from hucking it into the air with all his might. Another whiz of the blade, an audible thud and an unnerving hiss then, for a brief moment, silence.

For an excruciatingly long minute or two, Po Xiao stands there, head turning toward Jingyu's voice before he finally, breathlessly says, “You're welcome.” Then, with a little more apprehension, “What... what was that?”