Chapter 29 — Shadows Over the Arena
The morning sun poured golden light over the sect's grand arena, the stands buzzing with chatter as the second day of the competition began. The matches were moving faster now — the weaker disciples had already been swept aside, and the ones who remained eyed each other with sharper intent.
Lin Xuan stood quietly near the waiting platform, listening to the layered conversations that floated through the air.
"Today will be more exciting," one young disciple muttered to his friend. "Now we'll see the real contenders."
"Don't get your hopes up," another snorted. "Lin Xuan's still in it — and I hear his first opponent this morning is the inner disciple who broke through to mid-stage Qi Formation last month."
"Mid-stage or not, he'll lose," came the blunt reply. "Everyone saw what happened yesterday."
Across the ring, Danfeng's lips curved ever so slightly. Unlike yesterday, no maneuvering was needed. Lin Xuan's reputation had spread so quickly that many challengers already seemed half-beaten before the match even started.
When Lin Xuan stepped onto the stage, his opponent clasped his fists in salute — but instead of taking a fighting stance, he lowered his hands and bowed deeply.
"I concede," he said simply.
A ripple of surprise went through the audience. The referee blinked, confirmed the forfeit, and raised Lin Xuan's hand without a single exchange of blows.
It happened again in the next match. And the next. By midday, Lin Xuan had advanced without so much as a single injury. For him, the matches were simply long walks from one end of the platform to the other.
---
Whispers in the Leader's Pavilion
High above, the sect leader sat beneath the shade of the carved pavilion roof, robes immaculate, face unreadable. To the casual observer, he seemed merely indulging in a rare leisure, watching the competition alongside a handful of elders.
But midway through the morning matches, one of his personal guards stepped forward from the shadows, leaned close, and whispered something in his ear. His words were too low for anyone else to hear.
The sect leader didn't move, didn't speak. He simply gave the barest nod and waved the guard back. The man disappeared as silently as he'd come.
From the corner of his eye, Elder Qiu caught the brief exchange. He turned his gaze upward — and that was when he noticed it: a solitary bird, circling lazily high above the arena. It was the kind of thing most would dismiss without a thought.
But Elder Qiu's eyes narrowed. That was no random creature. The pattern of its circling was deliberate. Coded.
His hand twitched toward the sleeve where his talismans were hidden. That was the signal.
The demonic sect was in position.
---
The Turning Gaze
The afternoon matches saw the tension mounting. Lin Xuan's first opponent of the second day was a tall, broad-shouldered youth whose arrogance radiated like heat from stone. He smirked as he stepped forward, but the fight was over within three moves. Lin Xuan's precision was surgical — a sidestep, a palm strike to break the flow of qi, and a final sweeping kick that sent his opponent sprawling off the stage.
From his seat above, the sect leader leaned forward for the first time that day, his eyes narrowing as he studied the young man's stance.
"Hmm," he murmured, almost to himself. "Interesting."
The matches continued, but now the leader's gaze returned to Lin Xuan again and again. Each time the youth moved, his subtle control, his ability to read the fight before it even began, became more apparent.
Somewhere beyond the arena walls, unseen forces were already in motion.