Now there was a prize attached — anyone who managed to defeat Mo Xuan would be granted free use of the sect's cultivation chamber for three full days.
The first disciple arrived almost immediately after the new sign went up. "Is this real?" he asked, eyeing the wording with obvious suspicion.
"Entirely," Jin Bao answered, not even bothering to look up from his ledger.
The disciple hesitated a moment longer, weighing the offer, then paid. Jin Bao counted every spirit stone carefully with his spiritual sense, making sure none was counterfeit or short in weight, before recording the disciple's name in his ledger.
"Chen Wei," the young man supplied.
"Rank forty," Jin Bao noted beside the name, then smiled with the polish of someone who'd clearly rehearsed this exact moment in his head more than once. "You're officially registered."
By the time Chen Wei finished, a queue had somehow already formed behind him, disciples appearing from seemingly nowhere as news of the cultivation chamber prize rippled through the Inner Court. Jin Bao looked up, grinned, and rose to his feet, straightening his robes with an exaggerated flourish before addressing the gathering crowd. "Listen, everyone — we're only taking nine challengers across three days. That's three challengers per day. The matches begin in four days. Who's next?"
One by one, they paid and registered — some handing over spirit stones counted out with visible reluctance, others opting to spend contribution points instead. Every single one of them understood the math involved. Even a single day inside the sect's cultivation chamber was worth considerably more than two hundred lower-grade spirit stones, let alone three consecutive days of unrestricted access.
Conversations throughout the Inner Court shifted almost overnight, the arrangement becoming the dominant topic wherever disciples gathered. A cluster of ranked disciples stood together near one of the training grounds, debating the matter with obvious scepticism.
"Is this another one of Jin Bao's stunts?" one of them asked, frowning at the rumour as it reached him secondhand.
Another shook his head. "Elder Kui's name is attached to it. That's not something Jin Bao could fake even if he wanted to."
"Have you heard the registration's already closed?" a third added, and a ripple of quiet regret passed through those who'd hesitated too long to make up their minds. Others could barely stand the wait until the actual day arrived, already making plans to secure good seats.
The entire Inner Court had worked itself into a low, constant hum of anticipation over the coming event. Mo Xuan, meanwhile, remained entirely absorbed in his reading and cultivation, utterly unaware of the prize now attached to his name, treating the days leading up to the event exactly like any other. Time passed quickly around him without his notice.
The morning the challenges were set to begin, the area outside the Martial Duelling grounds was already loud with noise well before the sun had fully cleared the horizon. Most of that noise traced back to one particularly shameless disciple, Jin Bao — who'd taken it upon himself to charge a ten-spirit-stone entrance fee to spectators simply trying to walk through the gate.
Those who protested quickly discovered they had very little leverage. Elder Kui's name stood behind the event, and no one was willing to risk offending him over ten spirit stones. Muttering under their breath, they paid anyway.
When word of the makeshift gate fee eventually reached Elder Kui, he only stroked his beard thoughtfully, an amused glint in his eye. No wonder this one came from that family, he thought to himself. Good. Good. Good.
As the morning wore on, more and more spectators filed in, and before long the entire duelling ground had filled, disciples packed shoulder to shoulder along every available vantage point. Several elders arrived as well, and the moment they spotted the old keeper seated near the front, they cupped their hands in respectful greeting before finding their seats. Even a handful of higher-ranked Inner Court disciples had shown up, quietly folding themselves into the crowd, curious despite themselves to see exactly what all the noise surrounding this particular junior brother actually amounted to.
By the time the sun climbed close to its afternoon peak, Elder Kui finally stirred from where he'd been seated, one eye opening, then the other, as he rose to his feet. The entire crowd fell silent the instant he stood.
His voice carried easily across the packed grounds despite its unhurried, almost bored cadence. "I won't repeat what you already know. Three days. Three challengers each day. Rest between matches—unless the challenger doesn't need it." He paused, then added, "Mo Xuan. Step out."
The moment Mo Xuan stepped into view, dressed in a white robe patterned with black designs that echoed the split colouring of his hair, the noise in the crowd swelled back to life. Opinions flew in every direction at once.
"He's just showing off," someone muttered from the stands.
"Being greedy about a prize like this might not end well for him," another added, half-hoping to be proven right. "He might end up shooting himself in the foot."
Elsewhere, a cluster of fangirls had already gone glassy-eyed, lost somewhere in daydreams that had nothing to do with the actual duel about to take place.
Mo Xuan paid no attention to any of it. He walked calmly onto the stage, found a comfortable spot near its centre, sat down, and closed his eyes without a word, as though the noise surrounding him belonged to some entirely separate world.
Elder Kui glanced toward Jin Bao, who gave a small nod in confirmation that everything was in order. Satisfied, the old keeper announced the first challenger and settled back into his own seat, closing his eyes as though preparing for a nap rather than overseeing a duel.
Then he spoke, without opening them. "Start."
The challenging disciple, standing awkwardly at the edge of the stage, hesitated. "Elder Kui... aren't you going to announce the rules?"
"I already did," the old man replied, still not bothering to open his eyes. "If you damage anything here—" he raised one finger and pointed vaguely in Jin Bao's general direction, "—he pays."
Jin Bao nearly choked on his own breath. "Senior!"
The crowd burst into laughter at his stricken expression, and even Mo Xuan couldn't help but crack one eye open, a faint smile tugging at his mouth despite himself. The tension that had been building across the grounds eased noticeably, the atmosphere turning lighter in an instant. And yet, beneath the humour, everyone in the crowd understood exactly what was about to happen. The first challenge was seconds away from beginning in earnest.
Elder Kui, growing visibly impatient, finally cracked one eye fully open. "What are you waiting for? Fight. Go all out. If you don't start now, it'll count as a forfeit."
Mo Xuan rose to his feet. The entire arena shifted the instant he did, every conversation dying at once as the crowd realised, collectively, that the duel had finally begun.
The disciple standing opposite Mo Xuan — a broad-shouldered young man with a heavy iron mace slung over one shoulder — rolled his neck once, cracking the tension out of it, and settled into a low, grounded stance. His name, as Jin Bao's ledger recorded it, was Bai Feng, ranked squarely at level 40, the very edge of what the challenge rules allowed.
He didn't waste time with formalities. The instant Elder Kui's earlier "start" was understood to still be in effect, Bai Feng exploded forward, his iron mace carving a crushing arc toward Mo Xuan's ribs.
Boom.
The air folded beneath the descending mace before steel ever met stone.
Mo Xuan shifted half a step back, letting the mace pass close enough that its wind stirred the edge of his robe, and watched Bai Feng's follow-through carry him a fraction too far off balance. It was a small opening—but Mo Xuan saw it immediately: the slight overextension in Bai Feng's hips, the delayed recovery in his shoulders. He let it pass, choosing to read his opponent a little longer instead of ending the exchange too quickly.
Full of openings. Mo Xuan thought.
Bai Feng recovered quickly, planting his back foot and reversing the mace's momentum into a second swing, this one lower, aimed at sweeping Mo Xuan's legs out from under him. Mo Xuan hopped back, clearing the strike by a comfortable margin, and Bai Feng pressed forward immediately, refusing to let him settle.
"He's not even drawing his sword," someone in the crowd murmured, disbelief creeping into their voice.
"Too arrogant..."
"Maybe he doesn't think he needs to," another answered, though the uncertainty in their tone suggested they weren't entirely convinced of that themselves.
Bai Feng's Soul Power flared visibly around the mace's head, and a faint reddish glow began pulsing along its surface — the telltale sign of a technique building.
"Crushing Wave!"
He drove the weapon downward in an overhead strike meant to end the exchange outright.
Soul Power surged through Bai Feng's mace, and the reddish glow around its head deepened until it resembled molten stone. The descending blow carried the unyielding weight of the earth, yet its momentum rolled forward like a collapsing tidal wave, threatening to crush everything in its path.
Mo Xuan finally moved, sidestepping and activating his movement technique — the Cloudwalk Script at the last possible instant. The mace slammed into the stone floor of the duelling platform.
Stone exploded.
Shattered rock burst outward in a rough circle as a pale cloud of dust rolled across the front rows.
The dust hadn't settled.
Bai Feng's instincts screamed.