The clang of the ceremonial bell echoed across the Qingling Sect's assembly ground, signaling the start of a new phase in the tournament. Mist clung to the stone pillars, banners rippled in the early wind, and disciples from every corner of the continent gathered to hear their fates.
The referees stood solemnly, scrolls in hand. Behind them, the Sect Masters and Emperors leaned forward on their thrones, eyes gleaming with expectation.
"The rules of this stage are simple," the lead referee intoned, his voice resonating like a drumbeat. "From this point forward, each duel is decisive. Victory grants ascension to the next round. Defeat means elimination. No excuses, no second chances."
Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd. Every disciple knew the weight of those words there would be no hiding, no luck. Only strength.
The referee raised the scroll. "The pairings have been drawn, decided by the name badges each participant received at the start of the tournament."
One by one, the names were read, each declaration striking like a thunderclap:
Hei Mu (Black Mist Academy) vs. Yin Rou (Silken Vein Pavilion)
Tie Yuan (Iron Vow Sect) vs. Prince Hong Ye (Crimson Jade Dynasty)
Feng Ruo (Qingling Sect) vs. Zuo Kuang (Obsidian Bone Sect)
Ling Xuanye (Qingling Sect) vs. Yue Chányīn (Qingling Sect)
Su Feilí (Qingling Sect) vs. Winner of Hei Mu vs. Yin Rou
The moment the final match was declared, the atmosphere fractured. Faces paled, whispers rose, and even Sect Master Lin's fingers tightened on his dragon-armrest. Xuanye and Yue Chányīn two of Qingling's brightest flames would clash tomorrow.
Night in the Quarters
That night, the mood inside Qingling's quarters was heavy as stone. The disciples gathered in the shared chamber where Shui Lin and Huo Shan rested, their bandaged bodies reminders of how cruel the stage had become. Oil lamps flickered against the walls, shadows dancing like restless spirits.
Su Feilí, her face calm but eyes sharp, spoke first. "Tomorrow decides everything. Shui Lin, Huo Shan… we will not let your pain be in vain. This blood debt will be answered."
Shui Lin coughed lightly, forcing a smile despite the strain. "Don't speak as though I'm dead, Feilí-jie. Just… win for me. That will be enough."
But the tension in the room was not about Shui Lin or Huo Shan. All eyes drifted toward Xuanye and Yue Chányīn, seated across from each other in silence.
Finally, Feng Ruo broke the stillness. "Xuanye-ge, Chányīn-jie… you two fighting each other… it doesn't make sense. Chányīn should concede. Xuanye is our young master. The pride of Qingling rests on him."
Su Feilí nodded reluctantly. "Feng Ruo is right. If Xuanye loses here, Qingling's reputation will be mocked across the continent. For the sect's honor, Chányīn should"
"Enough." Xuanye's voice was quiet, but it cut like steel.
He stood slowly, shadows from the lantern light deepening the sharp lines of his face. "Are you asking her to throw the fight for me? To let me win because of my title, not my strength? If that is the respect you show me as your young master, then I would rather lose in battle than win by pity."
The room fell silent, but Huo Shan, ever mischievous despite his bandages, broke into a smirk. "If Xuanye wins… what reward will he get from Chányīn, eh?"
Shui Lin snickered, adding fuel. "A kiss, probably."
Both burst into laughter, their voices echoing against the stone walls.
Yue Chányīn's eyes flashed like ice shards. She extended her fingers, frost qi surging. A wave of cold swept the chamber, freezing the laughter in their throats. Snowflakes formed in the air as she hissed, "Say another word, and I'll freeze your tongues."
The two troublemakers shrank back, still chuckling nervously.
Su Feilí and Feng Ruo exchanged smiles, their laughter softer, more controlled. But Xuanye did not laugh. He remained still, silent as a mountain beneath storm clouds. His gaze fell on Chányīn, who smirked faintly, as though daring him.
Tomorrow, they would fight not as companions, but as rivals.
That night, while the others eventually returned to their rooms, Xuanye sat awake in meditation. The words of his companions echoed in his mind. The spirit within his sea of conscience whispered softly:
"Haizi, do not falter. A blade is sharpened only against stone. Tomorrow, whether victory or defeat, your edge will grow sharper."
Xuanye closed his eyes. The weight of expectation pressed down like mountains, but in his heart, there was only stillness.
To be continued...