Grand Marshal Li Qingshan breathed slowly, each breath sharp and measured. He stood at the center of a vast stone arena carved from sapphire-like crystal, the floor etched with shimmering blue runes that glowed faintly beneath his feet.
Above, the sky stretched endlessly, cloudless, impossibly clear, and watching from the high platforms ringing the arena were the proud, haughty figures of blue dragons.
They lounged casually, their vibrant scales reflecting brilliant hues of cerulean, cobalt, and azure. Dozens of eyes watched Li Qingshan keenly, filled with cold disdain and reluctant respect. Each gaze was a judgment, a quiet reminder of his humiliating position—prisoner, captive, spectacle.
"Begin," rumbled a deep, feminine voice laced with power and authority.
It was the Blue Dragon Matriarch. Her voice alone resonated like a thunderstorm, setting off a ripple of excitement among the younger dragons. Li Qingshan looked up, briefly meeting her indifferent, regal gaze.
