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2.35 - The Tournament Begins
🕑 Added 2024-03-12 22:00:01 +0000 UTCThree days later, one hundred twenty-eight disciples stood in ranks on the newly constructed tournament stage. They faced the formation-inscribed pavilion where the sect elders were seated upon a raised dais. He Yu recognized Elder Cai and Elder Wen among them. In the center sat the sect leader, Zhou Shanyuan. He was flanked by four elders on either side. Although all nine were of similar advancement—each somewhere in the Seventh or Eighth Realm—they exerted no more spiritual pressure on the gathered disciples than the natural qi of the mountain itself, so powerful was the formation inscribed on the elders’ pavilion.
Just below them sat the core disciples of the inner sect. There were twelve of them in all. Both Zhang Lifen and Ren Huang were among them, both given a noticeable amount of space. It seemed that Zhang Lifen wasn’t the only core disciple who was disliked.
To either side extended a series of seats reserved for the inner sect disciples. Most of these seats were empty. The disciples that made up the inner sect had better things to do than watch their juniors fight one another for what amounted to scraps, it seemed. About a third of the seating capacity was filled, however, and those disciples were clearly of much higher advancement than anyone He Yu had encountered in the outer sect.
On the other side of the arena sat He Yu’s peers—at least those who weren’t competing. Although considerably more seating was available for the outer sect, the available audience stands were packed. In the months that He Yu had been away, dueling had continued among the disciples as they fought over resources and advantages.
The tournament presented an opportunity to see a rival humbled, or a grudge vicariously repaid. To those disciples who were not competing, seeing stronger cultivators in combat would provide valuable insights into their own arts and techniques. There would be many breakthroughs in the coming days as disciples stuck at bottlenecks had the opportunity to observe this year’s talents display their ability.
The sect leader raised a hand, and the murmurs of the crowd silenced. All eyes turned to the pavilion. From what He Yu had learned of the Shrouded Peaks Sect’s history, Leader Zhou Shanyuan had held the position for roughly seven hundred years. Despite that, he looked like a man perhaps in his late fifties. His hair was a dignified gray, and his beard was kept to a short immaculate point. Some age lines were visible in his features, but they gave him a look of dignity rather than the sort of frailty typically associated with mortals as they aged. Even though he remained seated, Leader Zhou was a powerfully built man beneath his sect robes, with broad shoulders and chest.
“Welcome to this year’s outer sect tournament.” Leader Zhou’s voice was stern and iron-hard. Although he appeared to make no more effort than one would to speak to someone standing only a foot or two away, his words easily carried to all present.
“The one hundred twenty-eight gathered on the field will compete for the eight spots open in the inner sect by single elimination duels. Performance in all rounds of the tournament will determine the initial rank of the eight disciples who qualify. Conduct yourselves in a manner befitting of immortals, and bring honor to yourselves and the Shrouded Peaks Sect.”
A thundering shout went up from all the disciples gathered on the arena stage as they saluted and bowed to Leader Zhou and the sect elders. They all filed off the stage and took their seats in the section that had been reserved for the competitors. The tournament would take place over the next two weeks, with the first several days spent on the lower bracket matches. The later portions of the tournament would progress at a round per day, giving the fighters who advanced a night to cultivate and restore themselves before facing their next opponent the following day.
The last thing He Yu had learned only the day prior, was that the tournament would be to the death—in a sense. Formations in the arena would transport the loser away the instant a “fatal” blow was struck, but the injuries one suffered would be very real. The top-ranked healers and alchemists of the inner sect would be on standby at the medicine hall to treat the fighters and ensure that no recovery periods would be too long.
It had been stressed to all the competing disciples that this was to give them a taste of their future. The world of immortals was one filled with struggle, and death at the hands of a foe was always a heartbeat away. One could, of course, yield to their opponent and end the round early, but against anyone of similar cultivation, it would be incredibly shameful to do so. It was only an option if one was incredibly outmatched.
As He Yu settled into his seat with his friends, the first pair of combatants stepped onto the stage. They were both late Foundation.
“Why would a Second Realm even bother?” He Yu asked. They had to know they didn’t stand a chance at winning with the presence of so many Body Refining cultivators competing.
“Scavengers,” Yan Shirong said, making no effort to hide his disdain.
“He’s not wrong,” Li Heng said as the two competitors began their exchange. “There’s always a chance that the brackets will shake out in a way that eliminates some of the stronger competitors early, or allow a Foundation disciple to sneak into the top eight. Even if they don’t manage a spot in the inner sect, the combat experience alone might be enough to push them through a bottleneck. Just simply competing will earn them esteem among the rest of the outer disciples, and make it easier to amass power for another try next year.”
That made sense, once He Yu thought about it that way. He had spent weeks slamming into the brick wall that had been Old Guo when he’d fought against the old cultivator with Li Heng and Yan Shirong. That training alone had sharpened him more than the rest of his time in the sect so far combined. It would be hard to blame the less fortunate and less talented outer disciples for wanting something similar.
“The real benefit of these early rounds is for us, though,” Yan Shirong said.
Despite his earlier tone, he was observing the match with interest. It was progressing about as well as one would expect, given the advancement of the two contenders. They were a fairly even match for one another, and competent fighters, but it was clear that neither of them had the power nor the qi reserves to make for an interesting or lengthy fight.
“What do you mean by that?” He Yu asked. It was hard to see what he might learn from watching two people of lower advancement struggle with one another.
Tan Xiaoling was the one who answered this time. “These early rounds will allow us to gauge the competition,” she said, not looking away from the fight. “While there’s an informal ranking of outer disciples that formed once the dueling ban was lifted, the tournament lets us see what our sect siblings are really capable of. The top disciples will emerge rather quickly, and the rest of us will see some of what they can do. The shape of the later rounds will become clear rather quickly.”
Her point was made clear at the start of the second fight. When Sha Xiang took the stage, He Yu couldn’t help but feel sorry for the peak Foundation stage disciple who had the misfortune of facing off against her.
Sha Xiang’s smile was more cruel than usual for her, and she didn’t offer even the slightest incline of a bow when she saluted her opponent. That caused a murmur to run through the onlookers. Although she was technically his senior due to her advancement, the disciples had been instructed to treat each other as peers on the stage. It was disrespectful, and it spoke volumes of what she thought of the Foundation level disciple across from her.
Once the match started, He Yu couldn’t exactly say she wasn’t justified. It may have been poor form under normal circumstances to do so, but he activated the Cloud Emperor’s Peerless Judgment in order to get a sense of her cultivation. She had reached middle Body Refining, putting her at the same stage as he was.
Sha Xiang didn’t even bother attacking, waiting instead for her opponent to make his move. He clearly didn’t want to, as he made no effort to conceal his hesitation. She sneered and began throwing insults at him. After almost a minute, the Foundation finally did attack. From there, the match went very poorly for him.
He didn’t even land a proper hit with his butterfly swords. Sha Xiang lunged forward and grabbed him mid-swing, then slammed him into the stone arena floor. Then she slammed him again. And again.
She repeated the move over a dozen times before the Foundation disciple finally turned to mist and vanished. By the end, he looked more like a limp doll than a cultivator with a body stronger than any mortal’s. It was utter humiliation disguised as a fight.
When she stood and smirked at the crowd, she met He Yu’s gaze. He couldn’t stop the surge of anger that rose as they locked eyes across the arena. She was little better than someone like King Hao. Hopefully, He Yu would have a chance to face her on the tournament stage.
While he’d spent countless hours since returning to the sect meditating on what it meant to be a hero—to be just and good—he hadn’t yet arrived at any answer, but he knew what a hero wasn’t. It wasn’t Sha Xiang. He Yu didn’t require an emperor’s judgment to see Sha Xiang for what she was—a cruel villain who delighted in the suffering of those weaker than her.
The whole of He Yu’s spirit ached for the chance to give Sha Xiang her due.
