"I have to finish this… now," Lian breathed heavily.
Another attack came from his flank. He caught the attacker's wrist mid-strike, Frost Qi bursting from his palm.
"Haaaaaa—!" the man screamed, dropping his sabre as ice crawled up his arm.
A volley of arrows rained down. Lian yanked the frozen man upward like a shield, the arrows thudding into his body.
"I need to deal with him first—"
With a grunt, Lian hurled the man off the stage.
"Ah… I got it."
He pressed his hands together in a praying seal, rapidly heating the Frost Qi. The ice vaporised, and a thick mist rolled across the entire stage.
"I—I can't see anything…" another brute murmured, his eyes straining against the fog.
"Not bad… not bad at all." Empress Li leaned forward, licking her lips. "Now he's using assassin methods. That boy surely keeps things entertaining."
Bang!
Lian struck someone beneath the fog's cover.
And another person was eliminated.
Arrows whistled wildly as Bao fired blindly into the haze.
"I can't see a thing! It's all fog!" the spectators muttered restlessly.
Dum da dum da dum…
Bao's heartbeat echoed in his ears—fast, uneven, terrified.
"Show yourself!" he barked, releasing another flare of arrows.
"You bastard—look where you're going!"
Lin Feng slammed his elbow into Bao, who had stumbled too close in the confusion.
Bao toppled, hitting the ground hard.
"I, I-I'm so… so sorry!" he stammered, scrambling back.
"Get off the ring." Lin Feng's voice was raw.
"What…?" Bao blinked.
"Can't you hear me, trash? I said Get off the ring. I hate repeating myself."
Bao froze, crushed from the inside.
"Hahaha… oh, Lin Feng, you're just too much," the two girls beside him giggled, rubbing against him.
"Look at him—how pitiful," they mocked.
"Don't laugh… don't laugh at me!" Bao barked, his voice breaking like a cornered dog.
"Hahaha, what are you going to cry?" they continued.
"Don't laugh at me. Please don't laugh at me. Don't—laugh—at—me!"
Bao's mouth foamed as the words twisted out of him. His eyes went wild, unfocused, deranged. He barked like a rabid dog.
"What's wrong with him…?" the two girls whispered, stepping back.
Bao clenched his hair and pulled hard. The air around him thickened—dense, unstable. Qi began leaking from his body in violent spasms.
"Things just got tricky," Lian muttered, instinctively backing away from Bao.
"The boy has fallen into Qi diversion," Elder Yang said grimly. "All that taunting finally broke him."
"I will kill you. I will kill you. I will kill you ALL!"
"Ahhh," Bao screamed as all the fog that was covering the Ring was blown away.
"We can finally see," the spectators cheered.
Bao shot to his feet with unnatural speed. He grabbed his bow, but instead of arrows, he fired raw Qi—sharp, dark projectiles—one after another in rapid succession.
Lin Feng drew his blade, barely blocking the barrage.
This only enraged Bao further. His Qi surged, spiralling out of control.
"Stop laughing, stop laughing," Bao continued as his hair began to grow, its colour turning a cloudy white.
"Elder Yang, please stop the match before it gets out of hand," Envoy Fang Mo urged.
"Very well." Elder Yang lifted his hand.
Bao's eyes were blood-red now. Dark veins crawled across his skin. His attacks had become so heavy that Lin Feng was forced to manifest a Qi blade to survive. He was breathing hard, patches of his clothes torn open.
The ring had been shattered as Lian watched, evading the stray arrows.
"You insignificant piece of sh—" Lin Feng raised his sword for a finishing blow.
But before it could land, glowing talisman seals shot across the stage, intercepting the attack with a thunderous snap.
"Calm yourself, Lin Feng. The match is over," Elder Yang said.
He turned toward Bao and raised two fingers before his face.
"You fool. How can you call yourself a martial artist with such a weak will? Your first mistake was allowing yourself to break against Lin Feng's pressure."
"Even if you were weaker, you should have tried fighting rather than giving up," The elder said, waving his hands forming hand signs.
Streams of yellow seals burst forth, swirling around Bao like chains.
"Five-Teel Seal," Elder Yang declared.
A giant manifested coin—glowing with runes—descended and pinned Bao to the ground.
"The matches are over," the announcer declared after a moment of hesitation.
Silence.
...
"Yeahhhh!" the crowd erupted.
"That was quite the show. That boy Lian Xing—he was incredible, wasn't he?" one spectator said.
"Yeah! Did you see that technique he used? He fought four people at once and barely got injured. Unbelievable!"
"Too bad, though… the next round he'll be facing true geniuses. I think this is where he stops," another added.
"You think so, huh?"
A man in the audience spoke. He had long hair, and his face was hidden behind a crow-like mask. His voice was calm but amused.
"I think he didn't show everything he had," the masked man continued. "What do you think, Wang…?"
"Oh, shut up, Bo. Focus on the mission," Wang replied, annoyed.
Wang was a large man wearing a coat made from black feathers. His hair was cut short, and his dark red eyes scanned the arena with predatory calm.
"Heyyy, what's all the buzzin' about?"
A drunk man stumbled into their conversation, his face rosy. He bumped straight into Wang.
"You don't know what you're talking about. That boy was fighting for his life." The man spat. "That little f*cker made me lose so much money." The man continued.
Wang stared down at the man, the air around him cold.
"I—I'm sorry! So sorry!" the drunk yelped before scurrying away through the crowd.
"Hu… I thought I was going to die," he muttered once he'd forced his way out.
"Oho."
He coughed.
"Oho… oho… oho—agh!"
He collapsed to the ground. Moments later, his body softened, melted, and vanished, leaving no trace.
"Hoho… how brutal, Wang. The man just bumped into you. Why kill him?" Bo teased.
Wang didn't answer.
He simply kept looking straight ahead—expression cold, eyes unblinking.
"Ladies and gents, let us take a short break! Afterwards, we will begin the tournament—one-on-one matches to determine the strongest!!"
Every word from the announcer lingered in the air, riling the crowd even further.
"The winner will be automatically guaranteed a spot in the Heavenly Star Sect as an interim disciple! They will also receive a Qi-Boosting Pill crafted by the legendary Zhen Lingyu!" the announcer added.
Upon hearing those words, the participants exploded with excitement.
"I can break through to the next realm with that pill!" some of them murmured among themselves.
"Look at them… these poor bastards, fired up by a mere pill," Bo laughed, leaning forward with amusement.
"Well, what do you expect for this backwards region? I'm sure those kinds of resources come by hard for them." Wang spoke.
"Oh well, that would explain their strength. We have been here for days now, and none of them have even managed to detect us. I wanted a fight," Bo pouted.
"Now then, after one incense stick's time, the tournament will begin!" the announcer shouted.
"See you then, folks!" The announcer bowed, leaving the stage, and all the participants followed.
"Hmmm… to think you managed to slip through," Ye said as he walked past Lian.
"You're truly fortunate, huh? Or are you fighting so hard because you want to impress Mai? Hahaha—how pathetic." Ye Xing laughed.
But Lian did not respond. He stayed quiet, crossed his legs, and circulated his Qi, preparing for the next match.
"Damn it… Why isn't he responding? The old him would have leapt at me, trying to defend himself. And the way he was fighting earlier… when did this bastard get so strong?" Ye Xing gritted his teeth. His fist clenched so tightly that his hand was trembling.
"Could I have fought four people at the same time…?" Ye Xing thought as he continued looking for a place to cultivate.
He reached into his storage pocket and took out a pill, a fruity fragrance drifting from it.
"Just you wait, Lian. I'll show you the difference in our strength… just you wait."
Ye Xing closed his eyes and began circulating his Qi as well.
Slowly, Lian felt his body returning to its original state. The Qi he had lost during the match flowed back, his breathing growing steady.
"Huu…" Lian exhaled sharply. "That match was harder than I thought. I underestimated them. For the next one, I should focus—or I might end up like Bao Bao…" he thought, as the last thread of Qi settled into his dantian.
"But that's just strange… how did he fall to his inner demon so quickly? Was he always so rash!?? Can someone's personality change that fast?" Lian tapped his temple, deep in thought.
But he was cut off as the thunderous voice returned.
"Ladies and gents, welcome back! The stick of incense has finished burning, and the tournament will continue!" the announcer's voice boomed as people rushed back to their spots.
"I think I've mostly recovered…" Lian thought, standing up from the ground.
"Come, come! Who do you think will win? Place your bets here!"
The gambling pavilion had already set up their stand.
"Yeah! Take it—five hundred thousand teals on Lin Feng!" someone shouted as they rushed forward.
"Yes, yes! Two hundred on the Twins!" another yelled.
One by one, people eagerly placed their bets.
Meanwhile, the participants were being arranged to determine who would fight whom.
"Old Xing, are you not going to place a bet on your sons?" Empress Li asked, clearly probing.
"I do not partake in such foolishness," Patriarch Qi replied, giving Empress Li a sharp look.
"What a shrewd woman…" the patriarch thought. "From the moment she arrived, she's been nothing but trouble—probing me at every chance she gets. What is her motive?"
"If you weren't from the Heavenly Star Sect as an envoy, he would already be dead," the patriarch burned with anger, though his outward appearance remained serene.
"Now that the groups are sorted, let the matches begin!" the announcer's voice boomed.
"Ah, Old Zhao Li, you're taking over Elder Yang's duties?" the announcer whispered.
"Yes. Though I'm not as experienced as Yang, I think I can handle the matches for him until he finishes stabilising that boy Bao," Zhao Li said, forming hand seals with his fingers. Moments later, the stages began to shift, converging into one great ring. The ground shook as the four separate stages connected into a single arena.
"Arrays are so interesting… If I have time in the future, I want to learn their magic," Lian thought to himself as he turned over his name plate.
"My number is eight, ha! Who am I fighting?" Lian's eyes scanned the participants, searching for whoever held number nine.
"Ha. It seems we were destined to fight sooner or later… I have number nine."
Lian and Lin Feng's eyes met, and Lian could see the fury burning on Lin Feng's face.
"Let the first match begin!" The crowd erupted as the battles commenced.
Two figures stepped forward—it was Xiao versus Tai Luon.
The boys stood at opposite ends of the giant ring.
"I'll finish this in ten exchanges," Xiao said, drawing his sabre from its sheath.
On the other side, Tai Luon strapped his clawed gauntlets onto his fists.
"Yeah… whatever you say," Tai Luon muttered, crouching into his battle stance.
The announcer glanced at one side, then the other.
"Begin!" his voice boomed
Just then, Tai Luon's body was swallowed by dark smoke.
In the next instant, he vanished in front of everyone's eyes.
"W-what?! Those are the assassin moves of the Luon Assassin Sect!" people shouted.
"It's my first time seeing it… I heard that once their organisation marks a target, they never stop until the job is done," another murmured.
"Really? How vicious… People who kill for money. Why doesn't the Murin Alliance do something about them?" someone complained.
"No, no—they can't. Assassination is also a form of cultivation. If they destroyed that organisation, it would be considered discrimination. It might even cause an uproar with the Assassin Guild," another explained.
Tai Luon suddenly reappeared behind Xiao, striking him with his blade. The cut was shallow, but before Xiao could react, Tai Luon vanished again.
He appeared—slashed—and disappeared once more.
Each time a strike landed, he counted:
"One."
"Two."
Tai Luon continued using this tactic until Xiao dropped to one knee.
"Damn it… How do I hit this slippery f*ck? All my attacks just pass right through him…" Xiao gritted his teeth, tightening his grip on his sabre.
"That's nine," Tai Luon said, appearing beside him and kicking Xiao's leg, sending him crashing to the ground.
"Mmm… it seems the match is over. He was arrogant—said he'd finish it in ten moves. Now he's the one losing in ten," the spectators murmured.
"I didn't want to use this move on you," Xiao said as he forced himself back onto his feet.
He lifted his sabre and closed his eyes.
"Oho… would you look at that? The boy has mastered Blade Intent," an envoy whispered in admiration.
The next time Tai Luon appeared behind Xiao—
He was met with steel.
The strike was so swift, so precise, that Tai Luon couldn't even raise a guard.
Bang!
He collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
Breathing heavily, Xiao spoke between gasps, "I told you… I was going to defeat you… in ten."
"Woooooah! Would you look at that?! He kept his word! Winner—Xiao, the Sabre Master!" the announcer shouted.
"Next match! Number eight vs. nine—"
The announcer paused.
"Ohhh! It seems Sixteen has forfeited! Let's move on to the next match. Numbers Eight and Nine, come up to the stage!"
"I guess it's my turn now," Lian thought as he climbed onto the stage.