The sect's outer arena was livelier than it had been all year. The air hummed with excitement and nervous energy as disciples from across the sect gathered to witness the annual Outer Disciples Tournament — a chance for glory, resources, and perhaps even promotion to the Inner Sect.
Bai Long and Xue He arrived at the centre plaza where the massive arena stood — a grand structure of white stone, its edges lined with glowing runes that shimmered faintly in the sunlight. Six circular stages floated at the heart of the coliseum, each large enough to host several duels at once. Around them stretched tiered seating carved directly into the mountainside, already filling with hundreds of outer disciples dressed in varying shades of blue and grey.
"Brother Li!" Xue He said, scanning the stands with wide eyes. "I see two open spots over there, let's grab them quickly before they're taken!"
"Alright," Bai Long replied with a faint smile, following as Xue He darted through the crowd like a fish in water.
They slid into the empty seats just as the last few disciples began filling in. The roar of conversation buzzed through the air. It wasn't long before the last seat was taken and silence fell across the arena.
High above, a golden-robed elder floated gracefully out from one of the private viewing boxes perched at the arena's highest point. His aura rippled through the air — calm yet suffocating, silencing the crowd instantly.
"Now that everyone has gathered," the elder's voice boomed across the grounds, "we shall commence the start of the Outer Disciples Tournament!"
A surge of excitement erupted from the spectators, quickly dying down again when the elder raised a hand.
"This tournament will last for seven days," he continued. "With over a thousand participants, each of you will face three battles a day. Your results will determine your standing in the rankings."
He gestured toward the crowd. "You will all notice that the seats you occupy have numbers engraved beneath them. We will call random numbers — those selected must immediately report to one of the six stages below to begin their matches."
Bai Long glanced down and found the number carved elegantly into the seat's armrest: 412. Beside him, Xue He looked at his own seat and grinned. "I got 413. Guess fate doesn't want us apart, Brother Li."
"Seems that way," Bai Long said evenly, though a faint smirk tugged at his lips.
The elder began calling out numbers, his voice echoing through the air. "Number 12 and 543, proceed to Stage One. Numbers 87 and 652, Stage Two…"
The crowd watched as disciples hurried down to the stages, excitement lighting their faces. One by one, matches began. Explosions of spiritual energy lit the air as blades clashed, wind howled, and fragments of stone scattered across the stages.
Bai Long's gaze lingered for only a moment before drifting away. The strongest participant so far was a Nascent Soul stage two cultivator — and judging from the instability of his aura, he had just broken through. His attacks were clumsy, his movements sluggish. The fight ended with both participants gasping for breath and nearly falling off the stage, the stage 2 barely taking the win.
'Pathetic.'
Bai Long leaned back slightly, disinterested. There was little for him to learn from such battles.
Another ten matches passed in similar fashion before a familiar number caught his attention.
"Next — number 413 and 240, proceed to Stage One!"
"That's me," Xue He said, his grin widening. He stood up and adjusted his sword, his confidence radiating like sunlight.
Bai Long turned slightly toward him. "Remember what I promised you," he said calmly.
"Of course, Brother Li." Xue He's smile brightened even more as he walked down toward the stage. His steps were light, almost eager.
When all six stages had their next pairs ready, the officiating judges raised their hands. "Begin!"
Xue He's opponent, a tall youth in grey robes, didn't waste a second. The instant the command was given, he dashed forward, his sword flashing with blue light.
Xue He exhaled, his expression calm. His hand tightened around his weapon as fiery energy flared to life along its blade.
"Scarlet Sun Blade: Scarlet Slash!"
A brilliant crimson arc erupted from his sword, cutting through the air like a streak of falling fire. The heat rippled so intensely that even the spectators could feel it from afar. His opponent's eyes widened in horror — he had no time to react before the attack reached him.
But just as the strike was about to land, a figure appeared between them — the stage's judge, moving with the effortless grace of a high-level cultivator. His sleeve flicked, and a transparent barrier shimmered into existence, absorbing the impact. The scarlet energy crashed against it and dissipated harmlessly.
"Winner — number 413," the judge declared, his voice flat but carrying an undertone of warning.
"But—" Xue He's opponent began, his face pale with disbelief. "I—"
Before he could finish, the elder's eyes turned cold. "Had I not intervened," he said slowly, "you would be dead."
The boy's face drained of colour. He bowed deeply, retreating without another word.
Meanwhile, the stands erupted in murmurs.
"Did he say dead?"
"That attack… was that an Earth-grade sword art?"
"No way. How can an outer disciple use something like that?"
Xue He, ignoring the whispers, simply turned and walked back to his seat. The moment he sat down, however, he yelped.
"Ow! What was that for?" he complained, rubbing the back of his head where Bai Long had flicked him.
Bai Long sighed. "Are you trying to win the match or kill your opponent?"
"I—I didn't expect him to be that weak," Xue He muttered defensively.
His words caused several nearby disciples to choke in disbelief. The youth he had just fought was around their strength, and now Xue He had casually lumped them all together as weak.
Bai Long gave him a sidelong glance. "Next time, don't use your sword art unless your opponent is at least close to your level."
"Yes, yes, I understand." Xue He grinned sheepishly, though the corners of his mouth twitched with pride.
Then, as the judge called out the next names, another familiar number echoed across the arena.
"Next — number 412 and 548, proceed to Stage One."
Bai Long stood. His robe fluttered slightly as a breeze passed through the arena. The crowd's chatter hushed when they saw his calm expression and steady stride — there was something about his presence that drew attention without effort, like a still lake reflecting thunderclouds.
"Brother Li," Xue He whispered excitedly, "teach them how it's done!"
Bai Long didn't respond. He simply stepped onto the stage, his gaze meeting his opponent's — a burly young man wielding a heavy iron blade. Spiritual energy crackled faintly in the air as the judge raised his hand once more.
"Begin!"