The Crowd's Roar
The arena floor was slick with blood, the braziers' green smoke curling thicker with every fight. The disciples in the terraces stamped their feet, their voices hoarse from cheering and jeering.
The drums thundered for the next match.
⸻
Zhao Yunhai's Second Slaughter
Zhao Yunhai stepped into the arena, his chest bare, his fists wrapped in black venom qi. Across from him, Yuan Kai, a wiry disciple known for his agility and precision strikes, circled warily.
"Begin!"
Yuan Kai darted forward, his movements sharp, his qi weaving like silver snakes. He slashed with Venom Fang Slash, leaving shimmering trails of poison in the air.
Zhao Yunhai did not dodge. He caught the strikes head-on, his fists flaring with qi. Sparks and venom splattered across his skin, hissing.
The crowd gasped—no one else dared take Yuan Kai's strikes directly.
Zhao Yunhai grinned, his teeth bared. "Too weak."
He unleashed Venom Flooding Strike, driving his fist into Yuan Kai's gut. The blow lifted him from the ground, venom bursting through his meridians like fire through dry grass.
Yuan Kai screamed as black veins raced across his skin. His body convulsed, then went limp.
Zhao Yunhai let him drop, spitting to the side. His eyes lifted, locking onto Shen Lian.
"You're next."
The crowd roared, chanting his name.
⸻
Wei Jing's Quiet Terror
The next fight brought Wei Jing back to the platform. Her opponent, Shen Tao, carried twin short spears, his qi sharp, his stance steady.
For a moment, the match looked even. Shen Tao's movements were crisp, his strikes forcing Wei Jing to step back.
But then—he stumbled.
His hands trembled. His breath grew shallow.
The crowd murmured in confusion.
Wei Jing only raised her hand, her green-gloved fingers glimmering faintly. A powder shimmered in the air around her opponent, invisible but deadly.
Shen Tao dropped to his knees, coughing blood. His spears clattered uselessly on the stone.
Wei Jing tilted her head, her eyes cold. She whispered something no one heard. Then she turned and left him convulsing on the floor until he stilled.
The crowd whispered her name in fear, not admiration.
⸻
Jiang Fei's Spear
The drums boomed again, and Jiang Fei stepped into the arena, spinning his serpent-bone spear lazily. His opponent, Dong Yu, wielded a broad sword, his qi steady and fierce.
They clashed with sparks of qi that shook the stone floor. Dong Yu's strikes were heavy, his qi pouring into each blow. But Jiang Fei danced around him, his spear flickering like lightning.
"Too slow," Jiang Fei sneered.
He unleashed the Nine Coils Serpent Dance, his spear striking in rapid succession. Dong Yu blocked the first four, deflected the fifth—but the sixth pierced his thigh, the seventh slashed his side, the eighth shattered his sword, and the ninth drove through his shoulder.
Dong Yu collapsed, writhing in pain. Jiang Fei planted his spear beside his neck, smirking. "Yield, or die."
Dong Yu gasped, "I yield!"
The crowd roared, stamping their feet, chanting Jiang Fei's name.
⸻
Between Matches: Su Rou
While the arena roared, Su Rou slipped away from the crowd. She found Shen Lian in the shadow of the old stone wall, his sleeve torn, his veins faintly dark beneath the skin.
"Shen Lian," she whispered, her voice trembling.
He turned his head, his gray eyes calm, unreadable. "You shouldn't be here."
Her hands clenched at her sides. "I saw it. I saw what you did to Liu Feng."
Shen Lian's lips curved faintly. "So did they. But they don't understand it."
"They don't need to!" she snapped, her eyes wet. "If the Sect Master decides you're a demon, they'll kill you! And Elder Mo Xuan—" she faltered, lowering her voice. "He's using you. He's feeding this thing inside you."
Shen Lian's gaze sharpened. For a moment, his hand twitched, as if holding back the tremor of the lotus. "And what would you have me do? Be weak again? Crawl like before? No."
Su Rou stepped closer, her voice breaking. "Then you'll lose yourself."
His smile was bitter, quiet. "Then remember me when I'm gone."
Her breath caught, her heart twisting painfully.
⸻
Cliffhanger
The drums thundered again, the elder calling for the next match. The noise of the crowd surged back, drowning their silence.
Shen Lian turned, his robe whispering against the stone. He walked back toward the arena, his shadow long in the torchlight.
Su Rou pressed her hands over her chest, trembling. She could still hear the faintest sound—the laughter of petals whispering through the air as if mocking her.
And above, Zhao Yunhai, Wei Jing, and Jiang Fei all turned their gazes toward him, their eyes gleaming with the promise of blood.