The morning sunlight slowly filtered through the walls of the arena. Ya sat leaning against the iron bars inside the arena, gradually straightening his body. He had spent the entire night sitting like this, staring blankly. The dazzling sunrise made him frown slightly, and he lazily crawled back to the coolest spot under the bed, curling up and refusing to move.
Not long after Ya lay down, the sound of whips rang outside. It was Yale diligently at work—a testament to his effort, though the slaves wished otherwise.
"Hey, scholar, look at that little one—still not moving. Why does he always rise at night and sleep during the day?" Jin Jiao rubbed his eyes, reluctantly sitting up. "Damn, what's gotten into Yale lately? Never seen him work this hard before—did the bonus go up?"
"Probably because this batch is more important," the scholar replied absentmindedly. He had already risen, leaning against the bedpost with a folding fan, tapping it in his palm as his eyes never left Ya. His mind raced. That feeling last night… was it an illusion? No, it couldn't be. It must be him—but why… is it because of this child? Could this kid really be that extraordinary?
"Jin Jiao? What day is it today?" the scholar suddenly asked.
"Today? Hmm… the seventh. There's a performance tonight. Hey, want to place a bet?" Jin Jiao excitedly flipped open a small notebook by his side.
"No bets, but something might happen tonight," the scholar said with a faint smile. "Didn't expect that little notebook of yours to be useful."
"Heh, of course. I've had a bad memory since I was little. My mom told me to write things down, so no matter what happens, I could just check the notebook. She's amazing." Mentioning his mother, Jin Jiao's eyes lit up like he had taken some stimulant.
"Hey, my mom sent me a letter last night. Want to see it?" Jin Jiao leaned across the iron bars excitedly.
"No." The scholar replied firmly, rubbing his head. "I shouldn't have mentioned that. Maybe I should take a note—just a piece of paper. 'Never mention Jin Jiao's mother in front of him,' and hang it by my ear."
An arena needed performances to survive. Large-scale shows required extensive preparation, from personnel to publicity. Usually, smaller shows were held to sustain normal operations, with the grand spectacles staged only when the time was right.
At Kuangxue, a minor show called Yi Yan was held every five days, only opening select seats near the center. Every fifteen days, a more formal performance called Li Yan was held, opening more seats with additional pre-show acts and commentators. True grand performances, Fang Yan, were scheduled irregularly, announced a month in advance. Today was a Li Yan day.
From sunrise, the arena bustled differently than usual. Even though smaller shows had occurred, nothing matched the scale of today's formal event. Ya, as always, half-closed his eyes, but sleep eluded him. He frequently glanced at the people huddled in the straw, restless, sensing something about to unfold.
As the sun dipped and the heat waned, Kuangxue Arena braced for another surge of intensity. Thanks to E'mo's lavish spending, all of Tian'jiao City watched this performance. The Li Yan today rivaled a grand spectacle.
In the VIP section reserved for nobles and merchants, guests dressed in luxurious attire sipped wine as if attending a grand party, oblivious to the bloody spectacle about to unfold.
"Good heavens, isn't that Duke Philip? How gracious of him to attend tonight," E'mo exclaimed from afar.
"Ah, Mr. E'mo, everyone in Tian'jiao noticed your recent extravagance. Kuangxue has acquired so many slaves; surely tonight's Li Yan will be extraordinary. How could I resist?" Duke Philip laughed.
Tian'jiao City belonged to the Shenwu Empire, the greatest and most powerful nation on Loa Continent. Its first emperor, Shenwu the Great, recognized by the Supreme Solar Church, was almost godlike. For ten generations, the emperors excelled in both culture and war, making the empire flourish—earning it the title "Eastern Shenwu Empire."
Among its vast territories, nobles abounded, ranked by hereditary titles. Dukes, below princes, wielded considerable influence, especially in the remote Baimu Plains, Philip's fiefdom. But the region was home to two dukes.
"Oh, is that Duke Louis? What day is this, that both dukes attend a single Li Yan?" E'mo exclaimed.
The crowd turned, noticing a handsome man in his thirties, flanked by noble ladies, approaching with a serene smile. While Philip held a high-status fief, Louis held a minor branch title, sent to this remote land. Yet such conditions created opportunities for the astute, allowing E'mo and Tianye to rise quickly.
"Mr. E'mo, you've nothing to attend to for others?" Philip asked in surprise.
"Nothing. Who else could be more honored than these two dukes?" E'mo replied with a faint smile.
Soon, both dukes were seated, drawing crowds. E'mo found himself edged aside, observing quietly with a lit cigar.
"Ten years… habits don't change easily," E'mo said as Phiso approached.
"Curious… what kind of arrangement will you have tonight? So many new faces… must be difficult," Phiso mused, watching E'mo with a sly grin.
"Sometimes a capable subordinate is more useful than a capable boss," E'mo said, smiling faintly.
"Time to start the show," the announcer called. A prelude performance to set the atmosphere involved fifteen adolescent slave boys against three adult Cliff Tigers.
The iron cages creaked as the beasts were loaded into the arena. The boys, barely ten, equipped with oversized swords and helmets, trembled as they walked to the battlefield—a land of death.
The tigers roared, eyes blood-red, claws scraping the ground. Fear filled the arena as the predators circled their helpless prey. Children screamed, some wetting themselves, yet their cries were drowned by the spectators' cheers.
One tiger lunged at the last fleeing child, Ya's eyes widening as time seemed to slow. Blood hung suspended midair, the world silent.
"Don't… no…" a small hand gripped Ya's shoulder through the bars. Behind him, the tiger leaped again, tearing apart another child. Ya, trembling from pain and fear, raised the boy's hand and tossed it aside.
The tiger's gaze met Ya's. Breathing heavily, body trembling, blood cooling into ice-like clots, his pupils faintly glowing crimson. Suddenly, a full moon appeared in the sky, unnoticed by most.
A calm, alluring voice broke the moment. The previously hidden figure approached, grasping Ya's wrist.
"Astonishing. Sometimes, only what people don't believe creates greatness and beauty."
Ya's heart raced. The fear was there, but beneath it, another feeling stirred—rising, awakening, a cold fervor. Frost appeared on Ya's forearm.
"Answer me a question," the figure said.
Ya dared not turn his head. The figure released his wrist and faced the approaching tiger. "You noisy beast… go away!" A shockwave passed through the air—the tiger halted, rolling back, then slunk away.
"I'm Tianren. What's your name?" the figure said, lifting his dirty hair, revealing striking, eagle-like eyes.
"Y-Ya," Ya stammered, barely able to speak.
"Do you want to live?" Tianren asked.
Ya's body shivered. Slowly, he turned, face-to-face with Tianren for the first time. In Tianren's eyes was a trace of sorrow.
"I do," Ya replied.
"Good. From today, you may call me Master." Tianren stood tall, his tattered clothes moving as if in a windless gust. Though eerie, his presence was commanding.
"Three years… Tianren hasn't moved a muscle in three years… yet now, for a child, he stirs again… and is taking a disciple? If this spreads, all of Tian'jiao, the entire Baimu Plains will be in upheaval," the scholar muttered in astonishment.
Tianren, the undefeated god of Kuangxue Arena, had never let an opponent survive three minutes. The reason for his three-year stillness was unknown, but now, everything was about to change.