The Imperial Arena's circular, stepped seating was jam-packed, the blood-red banners bearing the emblem of Aran fluttering wildly in the wind.
A murderous aura pervaded the parade ground; with thirty-two moving to sixteen, in a large-scale event with worldwide selections, it had become the main feature of the Continent Martial Arts Competition—almost a semi-final.
When the general public tournament is underway, don't be fooled by the intensity of the betting; once it's over, people only remember who came first.
The finals will start at seven o'clock tomorrow night. There will be an intermission show and artistic performance, meanwhile, the sixteen star players will be heavily promoted and packaged. On the evening of September 9th, there will be a betting frenzy with gold coins.
The setting sun was as crimson as blood, sinking into the horizon at the far end of the parade ground, dyeing half the sky a murky reddish-brown. Even the passing clouds were tinged with a rusty halo.
