The roaring cheers of the crowd reached a fevered pitch as the announcer's voice echoed across the grand Lei Tai, the raised platform where cultivators proved their strength. The last battle had stretched to its thrilling finale—Iron Arm Chu and Gale Wei were both bloodied and exhausted.
For several tense moments, they stood locked in a final exchange. The heavy-hitter lunged with all his remaining Qi, his arm glowing like molten steel. Gale Wei seemed pinned for an instant—then vanished in a blur of motion, reappearing behind his opponent.
The crowd gasped. A sharp crack rang out. Chu staggered, his armor of Qi crumbling away before he struck the ground with a heavy thud.
"Victory to Gale Wei!" the announcer declared. Silver rained onto the betting counters as cheers erupted through the stands.
Linfei smiled faintly, impressed by the precision and timing. He noted how the Pavilion managed these duels—each win earned the victor not just silver but valuable cultivation resources: pills, gear, or even spirit stones. The prizes grew larger with consecutive victories, luring both desperate and confident fighters to keep risking everything.
As the arena floor was cleaned and the healers carried away the defeated, Linfei approached the sign-up counter. The attendant, a young woman in Pavilion robes, regarded him curiously when he placed his silver entrance fee on the table.
"First duel, is it?" she asked.
Linfei nodded. "Yes. I'll wait for my turn."
"Good luck then, cultivator. The higher the streak, the greater the reward. But be warned—many have lost more than just their pride here."
He simply smiled and walked toward the edge of the stands, watching the next duel unfold.
This time, a swordsman entered the arena. His calm demeanor contrasted the clamor around him. The blade he drew shimmered with faint spiritual energy, humming as though alive. His opponent wielded a staff, its end wrapped in bands of silver Qi.
The duel began with a flash. The swordsman moved like a gust of cutting wind—each slash carrying frightening sharpness and grace. Sparks lit the air as staff clashed with steel, echoes of power rippling across the audience.
Linfei's eyes narrowed, his heart beating faster. He wasn't watching just a fight—he was studying a dance of strength, focus, and intent. And soon, that very stage would be his.
He clenched his fists, excitement thundering in his veins. "Just a little longer," he murmured. "My turn will come."