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The next day, May 1.
The Heavenly Spirit Arena seethed with voices.
Soul fighting, a form of entertainment beloved by the masses, had a history stretching back tens of thousands of years.
Although official soul fighting events might not be held particularly often, almost every city had an official Soul Fighting Arena. They were as widespread as the stadiums scattered throughout the cities of the Eastern Great Nation.
The arena's outer walls were built from enormous blue-gray stones, their surfaces taking on a faint, rust-dark red beneath the daylight.
Twelve thick pillars, covered in mysterious soul power runes, firmly supported a circular dome fifty meters high.
Cold iron chains unique to the northern frontier crisscrossed overhead. As drafts swept through, the chains gave off dull metallic tremors, startling the bone bells held in the mouths of the bronze beast heads at the eaves into a humming rattle.
Inside the arena, tiers of circular steps plunged thirty meters underground like a waterfall, forming a magnificent sight.
The central Soul Fighting Platform had been carefully carved from a single slab of bluestone. Dark purple mineral seams showing through its cracks steamed with wisps of mist in the morning light, lending the entire platform an air of mystery.
Fifty thousand darksteel seats stood in neat rows in the spectator stands. The refracted light stained them the color of congealed blood, making the grim aura of slaughter hit spectators before they had even watched a fight.
Standing in front of the competitors' area, Wang Baoqiang stared at the breathtaking scene. His eyes widened, and he blurted out, "This... this is so iron-blooded!"
Within his limited vocabulary, that was the only expression he could find that best captured what he felt.
Dugu Fu smiled faintly and replied, "That's