Riven's eyes narrowed.
The figure standing in the open — calm, still, back toward the entrance — was unmistakable.
Ziren Raal.
Even from behind, he carried that same clean-cut sharpness. Back straight, arms at his sides, every line of his body taut with intent. He hadn't moved since Riven arrived. Almost like he'd been waiting.
But not for him, probably.
Riven's boots clicked lightly as he stepped further down the slope. More figures came into view — the rest of the top sixteen, clustered loosely near the front of the main stage.
The Fangcradle was a collection of five arenas in total, spaced out across the valley. The main stage sat directly in the center, a large, flat area with smooth stone and marked lines. The other four smaller arenas circled the main stage, complementing it.
Lara stood off to one side, arms folded, face hard.
Taro Fei lingered near the back, grin already on his face.
Durin was pacing.
The others looked tense. Alert. All except Ziren, who still hadn't moved.
And in front of them all stood Elder Syen.
He looked the same as ever — robes crisp, expression sharp, like he'd stepped straight out of a sect manual on looking terrifying and mildly disappointed.
Syen didn't speak until Riven had fully joined the group.
Then, without turning his head:
"Since everyone's here now…"
A pause.
"…Let's begin."
He stepped forward onto the main stage, boots scraping against worn stone, and turned toward the gathered disciples and the ring of spectators above.
When he spoke, the entire Fangcradle could hear him — even without him raising his voice.
"The tournament that follows will be elimination-based. Three group rounds. Then finals. Only one winner."
The arena quieted a little.
Then he raised a hand — and a glowing scroll unfurled in the air beside him, shimmering with faint silver qi.
"These are your rewards."
He began reading them aloud.
"Top sixteen — all of you here — will receive ten contribution tokens and a minor-grade pill of your choosing."
With outer disciples earning only three merit points a month, this was almost four months' worth of merit points at once. Riven glanced around, noting the faces of the other top sixteen. Everyone here, except for him, was an outer disciple, and he could see the joy on their faces.
His eyes flicked over to Taro Fei, who stood near the back of the group, already wearing an ecstatic grin, as if he'd won the lottery. Riven couldn't help but find it a little unsettling, considering Taro's ponytailed friend was dead — and yet, Taro didn't seem the least bit bothered.
Was it really just the merit points that had him this excited?
Riven frowned slightly. The pill.
Pills were objects, usually crafted from rare spiritual herbs and complex alchemical processes. They were expensive and difficult to obtain. Maybe there was one that Taro desperately needed, a pill that made this whole tournament worth it? Or maybe something about this pill was a life-changer for him?
It was strange.
"Top eight — five additional merit points and a chance to either browse the Martial Skills Pavilion and choose a skill or visit the Martial Arts Hall and change their cultivation method."
This caused a murmur to ripple through the disciples. Outer disciples usually only had one chance to select a martial skill for free from the Martial Skills Pavilion, making this a great opportunity to improve their combat capabilities. But more importantly, the chance to change their cultivation method was something that caught the attention of almost everyone.
When new disciples joined the sect, they were allowed to pick from a handful of basic cultivation methods — simple and safe, but nowhere near the strength or speed of higher-tier methods. The higher the cultivation stage, the greater the need for a suitable cultivation method. The ones given to outer disciples, however, had limits. They might help you grow steadily, but they couldn't take you to the highest levels of cultivation. In the future, many outer disciples would struggle, knowing they were bound by these basic paths, unable to break through without a better method.
This, then, was the most coveted reward for anyone still using the basic methods. To change to a more advanced one meant a much quicker and more powerful rise in strength, and it would open the doors to higher realms.
But as the others discussed among themselves, Riven couldn't bring himself to care.
With his core disciple status, he'd been allowed to choose a far more advanced method — the Frozen Gale Codex. An esoteric technique that was far beyond what the outer disciples had. The Frozen Gale Codex was powerful, faster, and more complete than the standard methods used by the others, and it wasn't even comparable to the beginner's techniques that they were offered.
Riven glanced around briefly, feeling slightly removed from the excited chatter. This reward wouldn't benefit him.
Give me something useful.
"Top four — you will be allowed to follow along to the Emerald Banquet in Verdance."
Riven's hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms.
Yes.
This was it.
This was what he wanted.
This was why he pushed so hard all along.
He looked around, his gaze hardening, eyes filled with determination.
Verdance. The largest city in the province.
And his best chance at finding a way home. A map to his family.
He would get into the top four. No matter what it takes.
The thought buzzed in his mind, steady and relentless.
"Top two — each of you will receive a low-grade artifact weapon of your choosing."
Whatever.
Riven already didn't care anymore.
Artifacts were weapons crafted by skilled masters, but what made them special was that they could be infused with qi, unlocking special abilities, enhancements, or effects beyond regular weapons. A low-grade artifact might not be the strongest, but it could still be far superior to any ordinary weapon — and for most disciples, this was a coveted prize.
Most outer disciples would jump at the chance for a weapon like that.
"And the winner…" Syen paused, letting the tension stretch out.
"Will be promoted to an Inner Disciple. You will also be granted the title of Fangbearer for one month, gaining rights equal to a core disciple."
This was the main goal of most newbies.
A promotion in rank.
The chance to access greater resources, get more direct guidance from high-level cultivators, and move much faster up the sect's ranks.
The Fangbearer title was the cherry on top.
As a core disciple, even for just one month, you could make use of some of the sect's more treasured and hidden training opportunities.
The weight of those words settled over the crowd like a heavy cloak. Riven didn't even need to look around to know that the other disciples were listening closely, eyes wide with anticipation, their thoughts no doubt already on what they would do with such opportunities.
Riven, however, had already made up his mind. He would use everything he had to attain top four. Even if that would cost him the chances of ranking higher. Verdance was just a few steps away.
With a swift motion, Elder Syen raised his hand again, and the match bracket began to glow in the air beside him.
"The tournament will start now," he continued. "The first round will be a group fight, Each group will have four people. The top two in each group will advance."
The audience murmured, shifting in their seats.
"Seeding for the groups will be based on your ranking," Syen continued. "First place will be grouped with the last place, eighth and ninth. Second place with the second-last, seventh and tenth, and so on."
Riven's eyes flicked to the side as Elder Syen's voice rang out again. "May everyone in their groups gather on the surrounding arena stages now."
The disciples began to move.
Riven's gaze drifted over the arena, the stands slowly filling with spectators. Hundreds of eyes were watching them now, filling the seats of the carved stone bleachers — mostly outer disciples, their uniforms muted but their expressions sharp with the hunger of those still climbing. Mixed among them were a few inner disciples, their robes sharper and more refined, sitting back with the air of those who had seen it all before. Some faces were tense with anticipation, others filled with quiet amusement.
Among them, Riven still didn't see any core disciples.
His eyes wandered slowly over the rows of spectators. He couldn't help but scan for a face he hadn't seen in days. His breath stilled for a moment as his eyes swept through the crowd, searching for her.
Lumi.
Had she come to watch?
But there was no sign of her.
Maybe I can use this to make her a give me a discount next time.
His mind shook.
What was he even thinking about.
Focus.
He turned his attention back to the group now on the stage with him.
To his left, Lenna Jia stood — the girl with the bruised face and a cracked gauntlet. Rank 15.
She offered a faint, tired smile, but her gaze remained sharp, focused.
Next to her was Rank 7 — a wiry young man Riven didn't recognize, his posture stiff, his eyes darting nervously.
And beside him, Rank 10 — a tall, broad-shouldered boy, who kept his gaze on the ground, his fists clenched at his sides.
Riven didn't know their names. They hadn't made an impression in the rankings.
But he wouldn't take them lightly still.
He had to win here.
Elder Syen's voice cut through the quiet tension:
"Begin."