## Chapter Nine: The Tournament Begins
The announcement of the Inner Sect Selection Tournament sent a shockwave through the Outer Court. The usual hum of daily routines was replaced by a frantic, almost desperate energy. Disciples practiced their forms with renewed intensity, their grunts and shouts echoing through the training grounds. Whispers of favored techniques, secret pills, and desperate alliances filled the air. For many, this was their last chance to escape the endless cycle of chores and limited resources.
Yan Zhen, fueled by his recent breakthrough to **Body Tempering, Stage 5**, and the desire to impress Qing Yu, trained with an almost manic zeal. His punches packed more force, his movements gained a new, agile grace from the 'Swift Crane Step' he'd diligently practiced. He was a natural, his pure spirit root absorbing qi at an astonishing rate. Lin Feng watched, a quiet satisfaction in his eyes. *Good. Build that foundation, little hero. You'll need it.*
"I feel amazing, Lin Feng!" Yan Zhen declared one evening, his body humming with spiritual energy. "I can't wait for this tournament! I'm gonna show them what I can do!"
Lin Feng, rubbing his own arm dramatically as if sore from his own 'struggles', chuckled. "You totally will, Zhen! You're a beast! I'm just hoping I don't get matched up against some monster who'll send me flying out of the ring on the first punch." He feigned a nervous shudder. "I'll just try to stay out of the way and let your awesomeness carry us both!"
Secretly, Lin Feng continued his own disciplined cultivation, diligently advancing his **Spirit Condensation, Stage 1** foundation. He spent stolen moments perfecting minor illusions and qi-masking techniques from his past life, ensuring his public persona of a mediocre **Body Tempering, Stage 2** disciple remained unblemished. He also studied the tournament brackets when they were posted, memorizing potential matchups, looking for strategic opportunities and weaknesses. He even observed Qing Yu's training, noting her precise, powerful strikes and her unyielding focus.
Qing Yu, unlike the boisterous Yan Zhen, prepared with quiet intensity. Her movements became even more fluid, her strikes imbued with a formidable qi that hummed with a unique resonance. She was a natural warrior, driven by a deep-seated sense of justice and a desire to prove her family's worth. She occasionally practiced the 'Swift Crane Step,' having recognized its utility, and would sometimes exchange quiet nods with Yan Zhen or Lin Feng during their respective training. She seemed to appreciate Yan Zhen's straightforward strength and Lin Feng's thoughtful nature.
Xiao Li, meanwhile, was visibly anxious. She sought them out often, her brow furrowed with worry. "The tensions are very high," she murmured one afternoon. "I've heard some ugly rumors. Disciples are talking about sabotage, about trying to injure opponents before matches." Her eyes were wide with concern.
Yan Zhen bristled. "That's despicable! Who would do something like that?"
Lin Feng put a comforting hand on Xiao Li's shoulder. "Yeah, Zhen's right. That's just low. Don't worry, Xiao Li, we'll keep an eye out. People get desperate, that's all. But we'll stick to our own strength, right?" He gave her a reassuring smile, then subtly steered the conversation to her healing abilities, subtly reminding her of her own value and role in a potentially injured sect.
The day of the tournament dawned, crisp and clear, but the air in the main Outer Court arena was thick with anticipation. A massive combat stage, carved from white jade, stood at the center, surrounded by tiers of stone seating where hundreds of outer disciples gathered. Elders and Inner Disciples sat on elevated platforms, their gazes sharp and assessing. Elder Xuan, grim-faced, oversaw the proceedings.
"Disciples! The Inner Sect Selection Tournament will now commence!" Elder Xuan's voice boomed, amplified by spiritual energy. "Remember the rules: no killing blows, no crippling injuries. Yield or be removed! Fight with honor!" His eyes seemed to linger on the most ambitious and desperate faces.
The first matches began, a flurry of kicks, punches, and rudimentary qi blasts. Some disciples, overeager, exhausted themselves quickly. Others displayed surprisingly cunning tactics. Yan Zhen was among the first scheduled to fight. His opponent was a lanky, nervous disciple named Li Ming, who was only at **Body Tempering, Stage 3**.
"Go get 'em, Zhen!" Lin Feng cheered from the sidelines, giving Yan Zhen a powerful slap on the back. "Show him what a real country boy can do!"
Yan Zhen, his eyes alight with determination, leaped onto the stage. Li Ming, intimidated by Yan Zhen's formidable aura, immediately adopted a defensive stance. Yan Zhen moved with astonishing speed, his new 'Swift Crane Step' making him seem to flicker across the stage. His punches, imbued with his Stage 5 qi, were heavy and precise. Li Ming tried to block, but Yan Zhen's raw power was too much. With a final, well-placed punch that sent Li Ming skidding to the edge of the stage, Yan Zhen claimed victory. He didn't even look winded.
"Yan Zhen wins!" Elder Xuan declared, his voice carrying a hint of surprise.
Yan Zhen hopped off the stage, beaming. "Did you see that, Lin Feng? The Swift Crane Step worked perfectly!"
Lin Feng clapped him on the back. "Awesome, Zhen! You were amazing! Told you that move was perfect for you!" He felt a cold satisfaction. Yan Zhen's strength was undeniable, but the underlying strategy had come from him.
As the tournament progressed, Lin Feng subtly observed. He noticed Shen Li, who had been muttering darkly about the unfairness, being matched against a much stronger opponent, a disciple known for merciless bullying. Lin Feng had heard rumors that this match was deliberately arranged by one of the sect elders to 'teach Shen Li a lesson.' He watched as Shen Li fought with desperate, almost wild abandon, driven by his bitter anger. He put up a valiant, albeit chaotic, fight, but was ultimately overpowered and thrown from the stage with a harsh blow that left him stunned and defeated. His face, as he was helped away, was a mask of utter despair.
*Good. Let that anger solidify. He'll be more pliable than ever.*
Then came Qing Yu's match. Her opponent was a hulking disciple, clearly at **Body Tempering, Stage 8**, who relied on brute strength. But Qing Yu moved like a ghost, her movements precise, her strikes targeting weak points. Her qi, though less overtly forceful than Yan Zhen's, was sharp and cutting. She deflected blows, countered with elegant precision, and ultimately, with a final, powerful strike that sent her opponent reeling, secured her victory. Her demeanor was cool and composed, earning nods of approval from several Elders.
"She's incredible," Yan Zhen whispered, awe in his voice. "So strong, so graceful!"
Lin Feng nodded, his expression serious. "Yeah, she's definitely one of the top contenders. We gotta keep pushing, Zhen, if we want to catch up!" He noted the faint light of challenge in Yan Zhen's eyes. *Perfect. Inspiration.*
His own match was called. Lin Feng stepped onto the stage with his usual cheerful, slightly nervous grin. His opponent was a relatively average disciple, also at **Body Tempering, Stage 3**. Lin Feng fought carefully, making sure his movements were slightly less refined than Yan Zhen's, his qi less overtly powerful. He dodged, parried, and eventually, with a well-timed but seemingly clumsy counter-attack that looked more lucky than skillful, managed to push his opponent off the stage.
"Lin Feng wins!" Elder Xuan announced, his voice lacking the surprise he'd shown for Yan Zhen's victory.
Lin Feng hopped off, putting on a tired but relieved smile for Yan Zhen. "Phew! That was close! I totally thought I was done for! Guess I just got lucky, huh?"
Yan Zhen slapped his back. "You did great, Lin Feng! You hung in there! We're both moving on!"
Lin Feng allowed himself a quiet, internal smirk. *Not just moving on, Yan Zhen. Moving exactly where I need us to be.* The first round had played out as planned. Yan Zhen was a rising star, attracting attention but not yet suspicion. Qing Yu was established as a formidable talent. And Lin Feng, the loyal, slightly lucky friend, remained unseen, meticulously pulling the strings. The web was tightening, and the real show was yet to begin.
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