The Black Dragon Citadel, for all its oppressive stillness, was a cauldron of simmering tensions. The hierarchy was absolute, the roles clearly defined, yet beneath the surface of enforced obedience, currents of resentment, ambition, and twisted pride flowed. The Ancestor, in his infinite wisdom and love for orchestrated chaos, decided these energies needed a sanctioned outlet. A pressure valve. And what better valve than a spectacle of controlled violence and competition?
The decree was announced not by crier, but by the Mistress of the Crucible, Chu Ling, her voice cutting through the morning tranquility of the harem's central pavilion. The four wives and the four secondary concubines were summoned, arrayed before her.
"By the will of the Eternal Ancestor," she proclaimed, her tone devoid of warmth, a mere conduit for his law, "a Grand Melee shall be held. A demonstration of the strength and skill that thrives under his benevolent rule."
She outlined the rules. It would be a multi-stage competition: first, a free-for-all, hand-to-hand combat round in the Sand Arena. The last four standing would advance. The second stage would test specialized skills—sabotage, infiltration, and poison crafting. The final stage would be a hunt for a valuable resource within a specially designed labyrinth.
"The winner," Chu Ling's lips curled into a faint, cruel smile, "will earn a boon from the Ancestor himself. A month of personal favor. Increased resources for their projects. Perhaps… a night solely in his company."
The air grew thick. The prize was not just material; it was a chance for supreme status, for a fleeting illusion of primacy in a world where all were slaves. Eyes narrowed. Postures straightened. The dormant competitive spirits of warriors, healers, and spies, long suppressed, flickered to life.
The Contenders:
· Team Wives:
1. Su Wan, The Phoenix Empress: Raw, divine power. Awakened Yin Phoenix energy granted her immense strength and regeneration, but her fighting style was instinctual, untrained, like a natural disaster.
2. Chu Ling, The Sadistic Minister: Precision and cruelty. Her strength was not overwhelming, but every movement was economical, aimed at joints, pressure points, and the psyche. She fought with the cold calculation of a surgeon who enjoyed the operation.
3. Wang Xia, The Sovereign of Silent Ends: Avoidance and misdirection. She would not engage directly. Her entire being was a weapon of subtlety. A touch, a puff of air, a seemingly misplaced step could deliver a paralytic or a hallucinogen.
4. Niu, The Hucow: Brute force and durability. Stripped of technique, her body, enhanced by alchemy and her Steadfast Ox heritage, was a battering ram. She felt little pain and possessed shocking, animalistic strength.
. Team Concubines:
1. Bai Wei, The Imperial Lame-Maker: A master of disabling technique. Her every strike was designed to maim, to cripple, to remove an opponent from the fight without killing them. She was a scalpel against clubs.
2. Lin Xian'er, The Hospitaller of Harrow: A wildcard. She understood the body's weaknesses intimately. She could likely pinpoint the exact strike to induce a seizure or a temporary paralysis, but her physical prowess was the weakest of all.
3. Luo Ying, The All-Seeing Eye: Spatial awareness was her greatest asset. She could anticipate movements, create minor spatial distortions to misjudge distances, and perhaps even phase out of the way of attacks for a split second. But direct combat was not her forte.
4. Elder Sister Lian, The Mistress of Whispers (Mental): The weakest physically. Her power was environmental. Could she weave minor illusions in the middle of a brawl? Make an opponent see a duplicate? Feel a sudden, chilling dread that broke their concentration?
The stage was set. The Ancestor watched from a high balcony, invisible behind a one-way spatial barrier, a bowl of spirit grapes in his lap. This was more entertaining than any play.
---
The Sand Arena was a wide, circular pit surrounded by obsidian walls. The air hummed with a containment field, preventing any energy-based attacks from leaking out—or any competitors from escaping. The eight women stood at the edges, eyeing each other.
A gong sounded.
The result was not a battle, but a chaotic eruption.
Niu charged first, a bull seeing red. Her target was not the most threatening, but the closest: Lian. The instinct to crush the weakest was pure animal. Lian, terrified, threw her hands up, not in defense, but in a desperate, reflexive attempt to weave an illusion. A mirage of three identical Lians flickered into existence. Niu, confused for a critical second, plowed through two phantoms, giving Lian a heartbeat to scramble away.
Bai Wei saw the charge and moved not to help Lian, but to exploit the opening. As Niu stumbled past, Bai Wei's leg snapped out, not at Niu's body, but at the back of her knee. It was a crippling strike that would have severed the tendons of a normal woman. On Niu, it was like kicking a stone pillar. Bai Wei hissed in pain, her foot throbbing, while Niu barely grunted, turning her dull anger towards this new, annoying fly.
Su Wan, stirred by the violence, moved with blinding speed. She didn't use technique; she simply appeared before Chu Ling and threw a punch fueled by pure Phoenix power. The air cracked. Chu Ling didn't try to block it. She flowed with the impact, redirecting the force and using Su Wan's own momentum to try and throw her off balance. Her fingers, like talons, sought the nerve cluster in Su Wan's wrist, attempting to deaden the limb. It was a gnat trying to shackle a hurricane. Su Wan's energy flared, burning Chu Ling's fingers and forcing her to disengage with a sharp gasp.
Wang Xia simply stood still, a serene smile on her face. Luo Ying, wary of the poison master,circled her, using her spatial sense to try and find an opening. Luo Ying lunged, her hand phasing slightly to bypass a block and strike at Wang Xia's shoulder. But the moment her fingers made contact, a jolt of numbness shot up her arm. Wang Xia's robes were dusted with a contact paralytic. Luo Ying recoiled, her right arm hanging uselessly.
Lin Xian'er tried to stay near the wall, out of the way. She saw Bai Wei favoring her injured foot. A healer's instinct took over. "Sister Bai! The lateral ligament! Apply pressure to the—" Her advice was cut short as Niu, enraged by Bai Wei's earlier strike, blundered towards them. Lin Xian'er squealed and dove out of the way.
The battle dissolved into shifting alliances and sudden betrayals. Chu Ling, realizing she couldn't hurt Niu, used the hucow as a bludgeon, subtly guiding her rage towards Su Wan. Bai Wei, despite her pain, worked in tandem with Luo Ying (who was now using her one good arm to create minor spatial pitfalls underfoot), trying to tangle the Empress's legs.
Wang Xia remained an untouchable island. Anyone who came near her suffered for it: a sudden wave of dizziness, a muscle spasm, a brief but blinding headache.
The first to fall was Lian. Her illusions required concentration, impossible to maintain in the heart of the chaos. Niu, finally connecting a wild backhand, sent her spinning into the wall. She slumped, unconscious.
The second was Lin Xian'er. Trying to avoid a clash between Su Wan and Niu, she misstepped into one of Luo Ying's spatial distortions. The ground seemed to lurch under her, and she fell, twisting her ankle badly. She tapped the sand in surrender, tears of pain and frustration in her eyes.
Now it was six.
Chu Ling saw an opportunity. While Su Wan was distracted by Niu's relentless charges, she signaled to Bai Wei and Luo Ying—a sharp, commanding glance. A temporary truce between the concubines. The three of them converged on the Empress.
It was a masterpiece of coordinated, vicious attack. Bai Wei hamstrung Su Wan's supporting leg with a precise, desperate kick. Luo Ying used her spatial power to make the sand beneath Su Wan's other foot shift away. And Chu Ling, in that split second of imbalance, delivered a needle-palm strike to the base of Su Wan's skull.
It wouldn't knock her out. But it disrupted her qi flow for a critical second. Su Wan roared in frustration, her divine energy stuttering. It was enough. Niu, seeing her target stagger, finally connected a full-force charge, tackling the Empress and driving her into the sand with a ground-shaking thud.
The concubines didn't celebrate. The truce shattered instantly. Luo Ying tried to phase behind Chu Ling, but the Minister was expecting it. She dropped a small, choking powder pellet that disrupted spatial energies, causing Luo Ying to rematerialize awkwardly. Bai Wei, leg screaming in pain, lunged at Chu Ling, but the Minister sidestepped and used a joint lock to brutally hyperextend Bai Wei's already injured elbow. Bai Wei cried out and collapsed.
Luo Ying, disoriented, was the next target. Chu Ling was upon her, a flurry of strikes to nerve centers that left the spatial adept writhing in silent agony on the sand.
Now, only three remained: Chu Ling, standing victorious but breathing heavily; Niu, who was confusedly poking the dazed Su Wan; and Wang Xia, who hadn't moved from her spot, her gown still pristine.
Chu Ling looked at Wang Xia. The Poison Sovereign smiled back.
The gong sounded again. The Ancestor's voice echoed in the arena. "The first round concludes. The final four are: the Minister, the Ox, the Phoenix, and the Lily. An… interesting assortment. Prepare for the next stage."
Servants entered to tend to the wounded. The four victors looked at each other, the temporary alliances of the brawl forgotten, replaced by a fresh, sharp-edged rivalry. The real competition had just begun.