The arena roared like a living beast.
Thousands of voices blended into a deafening storm as banners of countless colors waved in the stands. Merchants, nobles, sect elders, and wandering cultivators crowded the high terraces, all drawn by the promise of blood and spectacle.
In the center stretched a massive stone field ringed by high walls, large enough to hold hundreds of fighters. This was no simple duel ground — this was a battlefield.
A gong thundered.
"Let the preliminary round begin!" the announcer bellowed, his voice amplified by Dou Qi. "One hundred enter — only thirty will leave! Survival is victory!"
A ripple of tension swept through the competitors.
---
From the east, a wave of heat shimmered in the air. Those nearby quickly stepped aside, their faces beading with sweat. Some overconfident fighters rushed in — only to be flung back by an invisible force of burning Dou Qi, groaning in pain as blisters seared their skin.
Amid the heat emerged Xiao Yan, his black cloak fluttering as his steps left faint scorch marks on the stone. His calm, sharp gaze swept the arena, not a trace of doubt in his movements.
From the northern edge, a gentle breeze rolled in, cool and refreshing — until it sharpened like blades. Several fighters screamed as shallow cuts appeared across their skin, the wind carrying hidden killing intent. The crowd erupted in cheers as Nalan Yanran walked forward, her Misty Cloud Sect robes pristine, sword at her side, every step perfectly measured.
From the west, a deep rumble shook the ground. Dust lifted as a hulking figure with a spiked iron club casually swung it over his shoulder. With one step, Bai Kun crushed a fallen stone tile, grinning as the competitors instinctively gave him room.
And from the south, the air grew heavy and foul. A sickly-sweet smell of rot filled the air as a pale, lanky boy with blackened nails strolled into view. One man spat at him in disgust — only to choke and collapse moments later, unconscious from the boy's poisoned Dou Qi. Zhou Fang didn't even glance back.
---
Xiao Chen stood at the edge of it all, cloaked and silent. His pale green eyes were cold, fixed not on the chaos about to unfold but on the prizes that awaited the victors.
The first prize — a high-grade pill and a rare treasure.
The second — a finely crafted weapon.
The third — a body-refining medicine, the one thing his warped cultivation path desperately needed.
His gaze swept the field, marking potential threats and opportunities. His breath remained even, his heart steady.
The gong struck again.
The field exploded into violence.
Bai Kun charged like a bull, flattening two opponents in the blink of an eye with a single swing of his club. Nalan Yanran's sword flashed, and three men collapsed before they could even raise their weapons. Zhou Fang's Dou Qi hissed like venomous snakes as his enemies fell unconscious, clutching their throats.
Screams echoed.
Xiao Chen raised his hand. Golden fog erupted around him, rolling outward in tendrils — Greed-Hatred Calamity.
"Wha—?!" a fighter coughed, swinging blindly. "I can't… see—!"
The fog swallowed them, twisting vision and sowing panic. Enemies turned on each other, their senses failing them.
In the confusion, Xiao Chen moved. Eight shadowy clones of Dou Qi darted from his sides, striking pressure points, sweeping legs, and knocking opponents unconscious. He didn't linger. He harvested.
---
When the gong sounded again, only thirty remained.
Xiao Chen stood among them, cloak tattered but face hidden, Dou Qi simmering beneath his skin.
"Thirty pass!" the announcer shouted, his voice trembling with excitement. "The strongest have survived the first round!"
The crowd roared.
And Xiao Chen lowered his head. The body-refining medicine was one step closer.
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