The duels ended, leaving 25 members for the competition. One fellow is going to become the Golden Heir from these 25 members.
The once-confident names who were paraded as heart-favorites for the Golden Heir Tournament—men and women whose clans threw fortunes behind them—had been cut down one by one. Some by brutal force, some by reckless arrogance, some simply because fate decided to mock them.
And still, the crowd's chatter was louder than the roars of the Phoenix Range's winds.
"Shui Lan… Shui Lan will crush them all! He hasn't even drawn serious breath yet!" shouted one old gambler, half-drunk, half-sure of his prophecy.
"No, you blind ox! You saw what happened earlier? Kent King didn't swing his sword once! He defended, toyed, and still walked away without a scratch! That isn't trickery, that's dominance!" another countered, waving his hands so wildly he almost spilled his rice wine.
Speculation split the mountainside.
Some dismissed Kent entirely.
