Rivens eyes slowly left the white haired girls figure.
He wouldn't be able to close the cultivation gap right now.
Not yet.
They were still in the middle of the tournament — and there were plenty of matches left.
As if to reinforce the thought, the Graveweaver Court elder raised his voice again, calm and even as ever.
"With every sect having fought once, let's take a short break before the next round."
The atmosphere on the platform shifted instantly — tension bleeding out into chatter, movement, and the soft clink of cups being refilled.
Riven sank back onto his cushion, when he heard a question being asked next to him.
It wasn't directed at him, but at Ziren.
Mei was looking at him sternly. "You gonna explain what that was?"
Ziren didn't pretend not to know what she meant.
He scratched his cheek. Looked away.
"…I was holding back."
"Yeah, no kidding."
A short pause. Then —
"My mother told me not to hit girls."
She blinked.
"…What?"
Ziren shrugged. "She was very strict about it."
From the other side, Talia made a faint choking sound. She leaned forward, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.
"You'll die sooner or later with that kind of mentality."
Her voice was cool, not mocking — just stating a fact.
"This is the cultivation world now. People don't care what you were taught at home."
Ziren didn't reply. But he didn't look particularly shaken either.
Mei seemed exasperated and Riven leaned back and exhaled slowly.
I swear this was supposed to be a demonic sect. Did they lie to me?
>>>
The break passed like that. Some small conversation, but mostly within the sects. No one stood up to get aquainted to the other disciples.
Then the elder's voice rang out again.
"Next match: Silk Dominion versus Black Widow Pavilion."
As if everyone had just been waiting for it, the atmosphere shifted again and disciples of both sects walked out.
From the Silk Dominion side, four familiar faces reappeared:
The pudgy guy, the tall one, the blonde-haired girl, and the pigtailed girl — who stood slightly ahead of the others.
But something had changed.
This time, they didn't act separately.
They moved as a group.
The three in the back stood close, a tight-knit triangle formation. Their defensive treasures were already faintly glowing under their robes — subtle ripples of golden light, layered protections humming quietly.
The pigtailed girl, in contrast, was positioned half a step ahead — shoulders slightly hunched, eyes lowered. Not enough to seem like a threat. Just enough to look... accessible.
Obvious bait.
Riven blinked. Then frowned.
Do they think that's going to work?
Apparently, yes.
But the Black Widow Pavilion disciples weren't fooled by it.
They moved in their usual smooth, wide spread. Still silent. Still expressionless. Still coordinated.
But this time, they didn't rush.
Riven saw it in their eyes — caution.
They knew it was a trap.
Except then —
The pudgy disciple lifted his chin and muttered something loud enough to carry:
"Come on, then. Think you can finish us off before we activate a single counter?"
It wasn't just bait.
It was a challenge.
Riven raised an eyebrow. They're leaning into it on purpose.
"They know they're being baited," Lara muttered next to him. "And the Silk kids know they know."
"They're banking on their pride," Riven murmured back.
"Yup." Lara's eyes narrowed. "And hoping they're pissed enough to fall for it anyway."
And maybe they were.
Because the moment that line was spoken — the moment that smug glint crossed the pudgy disciple's eyes —
the assassins moved.
They darted forward in perfect unison — and unlike before, this time they struck together. Not fanning out. Not isolating targets. They aimed straight for the bait.
The pigtailed girl.
Her foot stamped down—not back, not sideways—but forward.
An unassuming pearl beneath her sole shattered.
A silver flash erupted at ground level, sharp and blinding, flooding the space directly in front of her with white-gold light.
The Black Widow disciples reacted instantly—turning their faces away—but it still cost them a heartbeat.
The Silk Dominion had prepared for this.
The three behind her didn't even flinch. Their heads dipped, eyes already shielded, timing perfect.
The counterattack came all at once.
The pudgy disciple hurled a handful of low-grade artifact knives, not with precision—but volume.
At the same time, the tall disciple stepped in hard, producing a small golden hammer, no larger than his palm. He swung it with both hands, qi flaring just enough to make the blow heavy.
The blonde girl followed immediately, her staff snapping forward in a clean, disciplined strike.
All three focused on the same assassin.
He tried to disengage—but the knives disrupted his footing, the hammer slammed into his side with a dull, concussive thud, and the staff followed through, driving him back.
Crack.
The skeletal ribs burst into existence—then shattered.
One Black Widow disciple was out.
Almost simultaneously, the pigtailed girl moved.
She didn't chase the others.
She turned inward.
Her crescent-shaped blade swept in a tight arc, catching one assassin as he tried to recover from the flash. Her movements were sharp, economical—no wasted motion. She slipped inside his guard, blade flashing once—
Snap.
Another array broke.
Two down.
For half a second, it looked like the gamble had worked.
Then reality reasserted itself.
The Silk Dominion trio had broken formation.
And the Black Widow Pavilion didn't need an invitation.
The remaining two assassins didn't hesitate.
They pivoted instantly.
One blurred toward the blonde girl. Her staff came up late. The dagger slid past her defenses, shallow but decisive, aimed for her neck.
Crack.
Her defensive underarmor wasn't shielding that.
Her array shattered, and she stumbled back, out.
The second assassin went for the tall disciple. The hammer came up defensively—but it was never meant for that. A feint high, a cut low—
Snap.
Another hit toward the throat.
Another array burst apart.
The pudgy disciple barely had time to react before a blade appeared at his throat. His knives clattered uselessly to the ground as his protection flared and broke.
Three eliminations.
Just like that.
Riven exhaled slowly.
Now it was two versus one.
The pigtailed girl stood alone, blade held low, breathing steady. Sweat darkened her collar, but her eyes were sharp—focused.
The two assassins spread slightly, not rushing now.
One of them with a little scar above his left eye stepped forward.
Riven's eyes narrowed.
Based on how the fight had progressed so far, he didn't think either of them could best the pig-tailed girl in a one versus one.
But he was soon proven wrong.
It seemed like that guy had just never needed to display more before.
He was actually able to match the girl quite evenly.
And now, it showed.
The two of them moved at the same time. Her crescent blade arced low, then high — only to be met by a dagger that moved like water over stone. Every strike she made was answered, every angle redirected.
Then he caught something strange.
One of the assassin's dagger swipes passed across her sleeve — didn't even cut her. But a moment later, the fabric darkened. A small gray patch bloomed over the surface, like ink in water. Slowly spreading.
What is that?
Meanwhile, the girl had already shifted back a few paces, adjusting her stance. The scarred assassin didn't let up. He followed quickly, pressing forward with fluid steps.
But he didn't notice where his foot landed.
Exactly where she had been standing seconds ago.
He stepped—
And slipped.
His balance faltered, his foot gliding out from under him as if the wooden floor had turned to oil. For a breath, his stance broke completely. A faint shimmer of silver qi still hovered in the air, fading rapidly.
She'd left a trap.
The girl surged forward.
Her blade flicked toward his chest in a clean, decisive line — meant to end the fight in one stroke.
But just before it could land—
Thunk.
A dull impact hit her side hard.
A throwing knife buried itself into her ribs with precise force.
She gasped. Her body twisted.
The skeletal ribcage burst out of her skin in a flash of pale light — cracked instantly, then shattered.
Her array broke.
She staggered back, eyes wide with disbelief.
In her eagerness to finish the fight, she'd forgotten something important.
The other assassin was still there.
"Black Widow Pavillion wins! Two pearls!"