Grand Duke Kelin suppressed the anger and astonishment at being affronted. With a sweep of his large hand, he led Shiheng out of the study. They passed through the quiet corridors and secluded compounds deep within the ducal estate, skirted several courtyards planted with magnolias, and headed straight for the private martial arena behind the estate, guarded by a heavy contingent of troops.
This martial arena was sacred ground in the Principality of Klan. Four thousand years ago, the first Grand Duke Kelin had personally overseen its construction to hone the nation's warriors. The entire arena had been cast from black iron rock buried deep underground, and the first grand duke had laid down layer upon layer of sturdy barriers. After four thousand years, neither weathering nor the ravages of war had left it damaged. Even a peak Ninth-Rank Magus exhausting all his magic to unleash a forbidden spell, or a Warrior of the Ninth Rank Peak pouring all his battle qi into a full-force strike, could not leave the slightest crack in its surface—a testament to its sturdiness.
Countless famous figures throughout the principality's history had taken this stage to fight-from the first grand duke's battles to expand his territory to contests between the greatest masters of successive generations. Time and power had long since polished the arena's stone surface smooth as a mirror, yet faint traces of surging battle qi and black scorch marks from magic remained. Every mark told of the passion and glory of the past.
The arena was empty now. Only the wind howled across the open platform, stirring a little dust and making it seem all the more spacious and solemn. The two approached a weapon rack and each reached for a refined-iron saber, black from end to end. The sabers were blunt and