The arena.
Its layout wasn't far off from the underground rings on Blue Star, just on a far grander scale—the platform alone was as big as two basketball courts. For cultivators, a cramped stage wouldn't cut it.
Around the ring rose tier upon tier of seating—the public viewing area. Higher still were specially made private boxes for nobles and powerful cultivators. Those who sat there were all wealthy or well-born, not short on resources; they came for pleasure, to watch others fight to the death.
As Jiang Ruochén followed the maid past, he took a moment to scan the hall and the boxes. Most of the lanterns above the suites were lit tonight—occupied.
He lingered a beat on Box Seven.
He had a hunch that behind its one-way screen—opaque from outside, clear within—several mocking pairs of eyes were fixed on him.
He gave it a glance or two, said nothing, and turned to follow the maid out of the viewing area and into the fighters' waiting zone…
"Courting death, that waste is. Cross-realm is bad enough, but challenging Fourth Heaven?"
Behind the screen of Box Seven, the Sixth Princess watched Jiang Ruochén's back with venom.
Jiang Li's gaze was just as vicious. "Don't worry, Sixth Sister. I've already spoken to the people backstage. The moment that waste steps onto the platform, he won't step off it."
"Good." The princess smiled. They both wished Jiang Ruochén dead—better that than more shame for them later…
Backstage, the reek of blood and the press of brute force hit Jiang Ruochén the instant he stepped in.
He swept his eyes across the room. Every face was hard and predatory—men who had climbed by licking blood from the blade's edge. That heavy, violent aura rolled off them in waves.
They noticed him too, measuring him with sharp, prying looks, trying to see through his depth.
They failed. The old dragon had already used the God Burial Tower to veil Jiang Ruochén's aura, leaving nothing for others to read.
"Sir, this is the backstage area," the maid said. "We have weapons and equipment if you want to warm up. When it's time, someone will come for you."
"Understood."
Jiang Ruochén withdrew his gaze and moved to a spot where he could watch the ring clearly. He sat cross-legged.
Warm-ups could wait. What he needed now was to study the fights.
He had the power to face a Fourth Heaven opponent, but he sorely lacked combat experience—that was a fatal weakness here. Everyone who haunted these arenas was battle-hardened and merciless. Realms might not be high, but killing skills and live combat instincts? Among the best in the capital.
Yes, observing now was last-minute cramming—but better that than walking in blind.
"Confident, aren't you, little one?" the old dragon's voice curled into his ear as he sat. "With only one elephant and one ox of strength, and you dare challenge a seasoned Fourth Heaven fighter."
"No choice. I need resources, so I gamble. And without battle, how does one grow?" Jiang Ruochén answered evenly.
"Honored guests, welcome to tonight's martial meet! Our first match—a clash at Vein-Opening Ninth Heaven!"
The old dragon fell silent. A sultry host took the stage, her magnetic voice rolling out, and the evening's blood sport began.
Opening with Ninth Heaven drew every eye. Ninth Heaven stood half a step from the Qi Sea—near the summit of the opening realm.
Jiang Ruochén watched without blinking.
At the host's cue, two fighters mounted the platform—one with an axe, the other with his fists. The bout exploded the moment the signal fell.
Resources were precious; both went all out with no reserves.
Below, the crowd roared at each exchange—at the way force and technique intertwined, at the sprays of blood—applauding like pounding surf. The more savage the fight, the higher the fever ran.
Jiang Ruochén watched, half awed by the cruelty of the path, half engrossed in every motion—memorizing angles, timing, intent.
Unnoticed, four bouts flew by. Three ended with injuries and surrender; one with a fighter collapsing from grievous wounds.
"Sir, you're up for the fifth match," a maid said as the fourth ended.
"Right." Jiang Ruochén rose and followed her out.
"Honored patrons," the host purred from the stage, "our next bout is a special one. Though one contestant is only Second Heaven, he has chosen to challenge Fourth Heaven across realms!"
A stir tore through the stands.
"What? Second Heaven vs. Fourth? That's insane!"
"Heavens—when was the last cross-realm challenge here? And two whole realms?"
"Second Heaven's just three oxen. Fourth begins at one elephant. Which fool signed up for this?"
Shock gave way to waves of pitying sighs. To most, the gap was unbridgeable.
When Jiang Ruochén stepped onto the platform, the murmurs swelled. His fame as a "waste" filled the royal city; many recognized him at once. The notion that he, of all people, would challenge Fourth Heaven drew snorts and jeers. Some even doubted he'd truly reached Second Heaven—hadn't he awakened a "trash soul" only two days ago?
"Hmph. Shameless, the lot of it," the Sixth Princess snapped in Box Seven.
"I didn't think he'd actually go up there," Jiang Li said with a cold smile, hands clasped behind him. "After tonight, this stain on our royal line will be wiped away."
"Fourteenth Prince," the Fourth Heaven fighter across from Jiang Ruochén growled, hefting a nine-ring broadsword, killing intent thick in his eyes, "this isn't a place for show. Blades don't care who you are. If you get hurt, don't blame me."
"Do as you like," Jiang Ruochén replied, unruffled, utterly sure.
The tone clipped the audience into a sharper silence. Could he really stand against a Fourth Heaven?
Box Seven quieted. Jiang Li, the Sixth Princess, Qin Qi—the palace scions stared at the white-clad youth on the stage, eyes narrowed.
"Then allow me to instruct you!"
With a shout, the Mad Blade, Fan Biao, sprang. One hand on the hilt, Fourth Heaven force flooding into the nine-ring blade, he leapt high and cleaved down toward Jiang Ruochén.