The announcement boomed through the stadium, the host's voice slightly raspy from hours of shouting over ear-shattering crowds.
"That's it for today's quarterfinal matches! The semifinals will resume tomorrow at noon. Contestants, rest up and prepare!"
The collective groan from the crowd almost shook the rafters. They had come to expect blood and sweat and pyrotechnics—something to talk about all night. Now they would have to wait.
Lian, standing with his bag slung over one shoulder, couldn't help but smile faintly. The disappointment of the crowd was his blessing. His body was sore, his limbs heavy, and though adrenaline still pumped faintly through him, his muscles screamed for rest. A whole night… good. I'll need it.
He threaded his way through the scattering crowd, heading for the locker room. The hall was quieter here, shadows stretched out under the weak lights. When he pushed open the door, his heart sank.
The room was wrecked.
Bench tops were overturned, towels scattered all over like tossed flags, bottles spinning on the floor. Lockers had been forced open, their insides scattered. Someone had torn through with the intention to hurt, leaving a war zone of broken wood and metal.
Lian's heart raced. Did someone target me? Or is this just random destruction left by the others?
He ran to his locker, shaking a little with his hands as he yanked it open. He let out a breath of relief as he spotted his bag in the corner, untouched, the contents still intact. Grunting, he slung it over his shoulder and cast one final glance around. Nothing else to salvage.
He turned and walked away, heard voices in the corridor. Hard, angry.
He stopped, then crept towards the sound, going quietly.
" You haven't changed either, Yan Luo." Gao Ming's tone was low, clipped, but seething with repressed anger.
"And neither have you, Gao Ming." Yan Luo answered more smoothly, on the brink of sneering. "Still quick to wrath. Still so keen to prove something.".
Two men in a wordless blizzard at the end of the hall. Gao Ming tall and wide-shouldered, fists clenched at his waist. Yan Luo relaxed stance, arms crossed, that self-satisfied smirk widened on his face. The tension between them was so thick it seemed to hum.
Lian remained where he was, deciding if he should step in—or even if they'd noticed him.
And then, suddenly, there was this figure beside him. He twitched slightly, his head whirling around to find Bai Xuan standing before him, arms folded, her gaze slashing.
"They played the final last year," she replied, her tone even but infused with recollection. "That game was brutal. Both of them did not come away unscathed. Gao Ming lost by a hair's width… and has borne that weight ever since.".
Her voice lowered, almost like a promise to herself. "But it won't be the same this time. Because I'll be the one to crush him in the semifinals."
Her declaration rang with conviction, enough to make Lian glance at her. She didn't blink, didn't waver.
As if sensing her words, Gao Ming's head turned. His eyes, sharp as knives, found Bai Xuan instantly.
He swung around Yan Luo without a word, his heavy feet striding towards them. The corridor grew smaller beneath his imposing frame.
He barged past Lian as if he were invisible, stopping right in front of Bai Xuan.
"So," Gao Ming spoke softly and even, "you believe you're the one who's going to be taking me down?"
Bai Xuan's mouth curled into a smile. "I don't believe. I know.".
For an instant, they stared at each other, two hunters facing off over the same prize. Lian could feel the weight pressing on his chest, taking his air away.
Then, with no further words, Gao Ming gave a low, mocking laugh and strode past her down the corridor. His shoulder brushed against hers as he went, a silent challenge left hanging.
Bai Xuan didn't back down, but her jaw tightened ever so slightly.
Behind them, Yan Luo finally moved. He stepped up to the duo, the lazy smile on his lips, but in his eyes, something inscrutable flashed.
"Don't mind him," Yan Luo said lightly. "He talks sternly, but deep down, Gao Ming isn't really so bad. Arrogant, perhaps. But a decent fellow nevertheless."
He stopped before them, casting his gaze to Lian.
"And you… congratulations." His words were surprisingly sincere, though his smile never wavered. "Making it this far as a first-year… you've already exceeded many expectations. Including mine."
Lian blinked, startled. "Thank you. I… I'll do my best tomorrow."
"Do your best?" Yan Luo's smile curved into something sharper, more mischievous. "No, no. You'll need to do more than that. Don't disappoint me in the semifinal, Lian. I'd hate for all this buildup to end in a whimper."
His tone carried weight, half encouragement, half threat. Before Lian could reply, Yan Luo turned on his heel, striding away down the corridor with a lazy wave.
Lian exhaled, realizing he'd had his breath caught.
Bai Xuan stepped closer, still looking at Yan Luo's disappearing back. Then she turned her attention to Lian, her expression grimmer than usual.
"Be careful what you wish for," she murmured. "Yan Luo isn't like the rest you've battled. His words… they're never meaningless."
And with that, she left, her footsteps echoing off the cold tiles until there was nothing but silence.
Lian stood alone in the hall, pack heavy on his shoulder, thoughts heavier still.
The scene played out in his mind—the fire in Gao Ming's eyes, Yan Luo's suave bravado, the steel in Bai Xuan's voice. Enemies, rivals, friends? The lines were so lightly drawn here.
He clenched his fists.
Tomorrow, he would be in their path. No regrets, no apologies. Regardless of whether it was Gao Ming's raw strength, Bai Xuan's stubborn resolve, or Yan Luo's deadly cunning—he would have to put up with it all.
The silence continued, broken only by the far-off hum of the stadium lights.
Lian took a deep breath, straightened his back, and finally made a movement for the door.
The night would be long. But tomorrow… tomorrow would put everything into focus.