Main Competition Area

By nightfall, the courtyard of the main competition area had grown much quieter.

Lin Qing sat on the edge of the bed, the bronze token resting on the table. Its smooth surface glimmered a dull yellow under the oil lamp.

He picked it up and examined it for a while. It bore none of the marks of repeated polishing found on the iron token. It seemed newly made, as though it had not yet passed through many hands.

He put down the bronze token, stood up, and walked to the window.

A few lights were on in the courtyard. People came and went through the doors, their footsteps echoing softly over the stone paving before soon disappearing behind one door or another.

He watched for a while but saw no faces that stood out, nor anyone lingering in the courtyard for long.

Everyone seemed like a newcomer to an unfamiliar place, first making sure of their own position, then waiting to see what tomorrow would bring.

He returned to the bed, put the bronze token back on the table, took off his coat, and lay down.

The bed was a little harder than the one in Spirit City's western district, and the bedding smelled faintly of new cloth.

He paid it no mind. Closing his eyes, he let Bamboo Breath circulate slowly through his body. His meridians were clear, and the Ice and Fire Dual Crystals lay quietly deep within the bamboo.

They were to gather at the training ground tomorrow. There was no need to think much about it now. He soon fell asleep.

Early the next morning, the sky had barely begun to brighten when sounds came from the courtyard.

Footsteps, doors closing, people talking in low voices. The morning breeze soon carried the sounds away.

Lin Qing opened his eyes, got dressed, tucked the bronze token inside his clothes, and pushed the door open.

Morning light shone over the eastern rooftops, spreading a layer of pale gold across the stone paving.

People were already in the courtyard, standing in twos and threes by the walls or on the steps.

Lin Qing glanced around. There had been more than a dozen people in the courtyard yesterday, and they should all be here today. But no one was looking around with any particular intent, and no one struck up a conversation. They kept their distance from one another, as though they had yet to find a reason to speak.

He stood on the steps and waited. After a while, an attendant in gray robes emerged from the building to the north.

Standing on the steps, he swept his gaze over the people in the courtyard. His voice was quiet but clear. "Everyone, assemble at the training ground.

"Follow me." With that, he turned back without lingering. The people in the courtyard followed one after another, and no one asked a single question.

The training ground lay behind the courtyard, just a short walk down a corridor.

It was larger than the one in Spirit City's western district, and the walls surrounding it were taller. Several Spirit Hall banners hung from the walls, their gold patterns on black fluttering gently in the morning breeze.

The ground was paved evenly with gray-white stone slabs, solid underfoot.

The attendant stood at the edge of the ground. He held no list and did not leaf through a register. He simply waited until everyone had arrived, looked around, and said, "The rules in the main competition area are different from those in the regional competition areas.

"You placed in the top three in your respective competition areas, but only the top six will be selected here. There are no round-robin matches and no points." He paused. "Draw lots. Elimination. Lose and you leave."

He raised a hand and pointed to a table at the edge of the ground, where a wooden box stood. "Come draw lots. Once you've drawn an opponent, go straight onto the field. In the main competition area, there's no extra time to spare for any one person."

Everyone walked over and took turns drawing wooden tokens from the box.

Lin Qing stood in the middle of the line. He reached into the box and touched a token with smooth edges. He took it out, turned it over, and glanced at it-number three. He looked up and glanced around at the people checking their own numbers.

Some showed no change of expression after looking at their tokens, some frowned slightly, and others looked around for their opponents.

The attendant's voice rang out again. "Number one against number one. Take the field."

Two people walked onto the field. One was taller, the other shorter. Both unleashed their Martial Souls almost simultaneously.

A shadow surfaced behind one of them, like a coiled snake. A pair of short blades appeared in the other's hands, their edges glinting coldly in the morning light. Lin Qing stood at the edge of the field, his gaze fixed on the shadow.

Not far to his right, another person was watching the match as well.

The man wore a dark blue short jacket and had a lean build. His gaze rested on the two figures on the field, focused in a way that was neither involved nor distracted, as though he were committing something to memory.

After watching for a while, he seemed to sense someone looking at him. He turned his head, and his gaze rested on Lin Qing for an instant.

The glance was brief. He neither nodded nor spoke; his eyes merely swept over Lin Qing before returning to the field. It was as though he had been checking who was sitting there and, having done so, had no need to look again.

Lin Qing did not look away, simply continuing to watch the match on the field.

Morning light continued to filter in over the rooftops, making the whole training ground brighter and brighter.

The owner of the short blades had already edged half a step forward, while the wielder of the snake-shaped Martial Soul had begun to shift position slowly. The scene, calm a moment ago, was growing as heavy as midday.

He stopped looking at that person and returned his gaze to the field, beginning to study the rhythm of the snake shadow's rises, falls, and evasions.

The man had already turned his gaze away from him and back to the field, as though nothing had happened.

The match on the field did not last much longer.

The struggle between the Shadow Snake and the short blades went on for about the time it took an incense stick to burn.

The snake shadow tried to entangle its opponent, while the short blades kept cutting through the air, searching for an opening. After several exchanges of probing attacks, the owner of the short blades finally caught the other man off guard as he withdrew a move. Sidestepping, he brought a blade to the side of the snake shadow wielder's neck.

The attendant's voice soon rang out. "Number one wins."

The winner put away his short blades without any particular expression, then turned and walked back to the wall.

The loser withdrew his Martial Soul and walked off the field with his head lowered. His steps were a little quicker than when he had come in, and he did not look back.

Lin Qing watched his retreating figure disappear around the corner of the passage. He noticed that the man's shoulders were a little lower as he left, as though he had put something down, or perhaps was taking stock of how much more he could bear.

Without pausing, the attendant turned a page in the register in his hand. "Number two against number two."

Two people walked onto the field. This match was shorter than the last. On the third exchange, one of them caught his opponent as his center of gravity shifted and sent him beyond the boundary with a palm strike.

After the attendant announced the result, the winner merely nodded, as though he had long since calculated exactly where that strike would land.

The loser stood outside the boundary line, glanced at his palm, and pressed his lips together.

Lin Qing stood at the edge of the field, his gaze following the movements of the people fighting.

After a round of matches, he noticed that the people here all favored straightforward fighting styles, without any wasted motion. When it was time to withdraw, they did so quickly; when it was time to press the attack, they made no unnecessary probes. No one showed off their skills, and no one held back.

The attendant turned to a new page. "Number three against number three."

Lin Qing stepped away from the wall and walked to the center of the field, where he came to a stop.

His opponent walked onto the field as well. He was not tall and wore a dark brown short jacket. His arms were thicker than most people's, and several faint old scars marked his knuckles.

He said nothing, merely standing there as though waiting for the right moment to reveal his Martial Soul.

The attendant glanced at them both. "Begin."