Zhao Yunhai
In a private chamber near the serpent pits, Zhao Yunhai pounded his fists into a slab of stone. Each strike cracked it deeper until the slab shattered into dust.
His chest heaved, venom qi coiling around him like living snakes.
He saw Bao Zhi's broken body in his mind and spat. "Pathetic. Scales shattered by a cripple."
But even as he mocked, his fists clenched tighter. His cousin Zhao Kun's face flickered in his thoughts—the boy Shen Lian had drained weeks ago.
"I'll crush him," Zhao Yunhai growled. His voice was low, venomous. "Not just for Kun. Not for the sect. For me. His bones will crack under my fists, and the crowd will see who the true serpent is."
His qi surged, filling the chamber with suffocating weight. If Shen Lian had heard those words, he might have smiled—because beneath the rage, Zhao Yunhai's vow reeked of fear.
⸻
Wei Jing
In her quarters, Wei Jing sat before a table of small jade vials. Each vial contained powders of different hues: pale green, violet, nearly invisible gray. The air was thick with faint, sweet poison.
She removed her gloves and dipped a finger into one vial. A speck of powder clung to her skin. She lifted it toward a moth fluttering near her lantern.
The insect twitched once, fell dead instantly.
Wei Jing's lips curved faintly.
"Strength can be broken," she whispered, her voice like silk. "Scales can be shattered. Even devouring has its limits. But fear…" She looked at her dead moth. "Fear has none."
She poured the powder into a new vial, sealing it tightly. Her mind lingered on Shen Lian's gray eyes, his faint, cold smile.
He was no ordinary opponent. But in her heart, she whispered a vow: I will be the one the sect remembers. Not him.
⸻
Jiang Fei
On a terrace overlooking the arena, Jiang Fei twirled his serpent-bone spear lazily. He watched the crowd below still buzzing over Shen Lian's victory.
A smirk curled his lips. "So the cripple has claws."
He thrust the spear forward once, lightning-fast, the air cracking. His reflection shimmered in the polished bone tip: handsome, arrogant, untouchable.
"Let them whisper," he said softly. "Let them fear him. Fear fattens prey before the kill."
He spun the spear again, planting its butt against the stone floor with a crack. His gaze turned cold.
"Shen Lian is not a rival. He is a stepping stone. And when I split him with the Nine Coils, the sect will cheer my name and forget his."
⸻
The Gathering Storm
Back in the arena, the drums continued. More disciples fell, broken and bleeding, their bodies dragged from the stone platform.
But the atmosphere had changed. Every whisper, every murmur circled back to one name.
Shen Lian.
He had risen too far to be ignored.
And in the shadows, Zhao Yunhai clenched his fists. Wei Jing sealed her poisons. Jiang Fei sharpened his spear.
Three serpents, each convinced they would be the one to kill him.
Three serpents, each preparing their fangs.
⸻
Cliffhanger
Above it all, Elder Mo Xuan watched with his faint smile, his eyes glittering with hunger.
Yes, he thought. The petals of this tournament are unfolding. Let them clash. Let them bleed. In the end… only one serpent will remain to coil around the Hall's throne.
And deep within Shen Lian's chest, the black lotus stirred, as if laughing at the plots that waited for him.