The dawn of the tournament arrived with a sky of crimson and gold. Clouds stretched across the heavens like dragon scales, shimmering with divine light. Below, the Imperial City of Eternal Radiance pulsed with energy unlike any seen in a generation. Every street was alive with anticipation — from wandering martial artists to noble clans, from spirit cultivators to mortal merchants — all had come to witness history.
At the city's heart stood the Heavenly Dragon Arena, an enormous coliseum carved from celestial stone. Its formation lines glowed faintly, infused with qi drawn from the leylines beneath the empire. Ancient runes circled its walls, warding against divine pressure. It was said that when the arena was first built, a true dragon of heaven had descended and sealed its spirit within the foundation, blessing every battle fought within with heavenly recognition.
Trumpets sounded across the capital. The gates of the arena opened, and the world's greatest prodigies began to enter.
I. The Arrival of Legends
The Seven Formidable Youths stood together at the edge of the martial platform, dressed in ceremonial robes embroidered with the golden dragon insignia of the Li Empire. Though they were young, their composure and aura silenced all who looked upon them.
Crowds filled every tier of the grandstands, stretching beyond sight. When the announcer's voice rang out — "Entering the arena, the Seven Disciples of the Supreme Martial Saint, defenders of the Li Empire!" — the sound of a hundred thousand voices erupted in thunderous applause.
Feng Lianyu walked at the front, his fan half-open, a faint breeze trailing in his steps. His eyes scanned the arena, reading every expression, every movement, as if the world itself were a strategy board. Beside him, Hou Zhan grinned and cracked his neck, unconcerned with pomp or ceremony. Li Wuxin followed, his white robes untouched by dust, the Heart Sword Box glinting faintly under the sun. Wei Shuren walked silently, umbrella over his shoulder; Jing Ge's spear gleamed like a second sun; Chen Jianwang's calm steps carried the stillness of a drawn blade; and Yue Liuyun's presence radiated serenity that steadied even the air.
Across the arena, the other kingdoms' champions took their positions.
From the Northern Frost Kingdom, six warriors clad in silver armor approached, frost qi swirling around them. At their center stood a tall man with hair like falling snow — Yin Qianlan, known as the Frost Monarch's Heir. His eyes were cold enough to freeze rivers.From the Azure Sky Sect, a woman in blue robes stepped forward, her aura like a raging storm. This was Yu Meihua, the Lightning Saintess, said to have fused her spirit root with thunder itself.From the Western Beast Clans, a young man with golden eyes and beast markings on his skin stood with arms folded — Hu Lang, son of the White Tiger Emperor. The ground trembled faintly beneath his bare feet.
The spectators whispered in awe. Never before had the younger generation gathered in such strength. The air was so charged with divine energy that even the sky trembled.
Then, the sound of a great gong shook the heavens.
II. The Emperor's Decree
All fell silent as the Emperor entered. Li Tianlan appeared atop a floating platform of light, surrounded by imperial guardians clad in radiant armor. His presence radiated divine majesty; his aura, though restrained, made every cultivator below feel the weight of heaven pressing down.
"The Heavenly Dragon Tournament," he declared, his voice echoing through every corner of the coliseum, "was founded in the First Era to honor those who seek truth through battle. Today, the world stands witness again. In this generation, the heavens have opened new paths, and divine energy flows stronger than before. Let this tournament decide who among you is worthy to walk it."
He raised a golden hand. "The rules are simple. No killing. No external weapons beyond those bound to one's soul. Each round shall test heart, skill, and destiny itself. And remember — victory alone is not glory. The way you fight determines who you are."
He lowered his arm, and the platform began to dissolve into light. "Begin the trials of Heaven."
The gong sounded once more.
III. The Trial of the Dragon Spirit
For the opening ceremony, the tournament's first challenge was not combat — it was the Trial of the Dragon Spirit. Each participant would enter a realm of illusions, crafted by the ancient dragon spirit beneath the arena, to test their will, purity, and mastery of divine qi. Only those who could withstand its pressure would earn the right to fight in the later rounds.
One by one, the prodigies stepped into the glowing circle at the center of the arena and vanished into light.
When Li Wuxin's turn came, the crowd grew quiet. The prince stepped forward calmly, his twelve swords humming faintly in their sealed box. As he entered the circle, a surge of qi burst outward, so pure it made nearby cultivators bow instinctively. He disappeared into the trial realm.
The others followed. Feng Lianyu's entry was like a gust of wind scattering petals; Hou Zhan's like a roar of thunder; Wei Shuren's like the silent flutter of rain; Jing Ge's spear flickered once with moonlight and he was gone; Chen Jianwang's sword hummed faintly before dissolving into air; Yue Liuyun walked into the light as if stepping through still water.
IV. Within the Trial Realm
Inside, the world was different.
The Seven found themselves standing apart, each within their own illusion, surrounded by visions drawn from their deepest hearts. The realm shimmered between dream and reality, filled with drifting motes of golden qi. The Dragon Spirit's voice echoed faintly in their minds.
"Show me your truth."
Feng Lianyu's illusion was of an endless chessboard stretching to infinity. Every move he made was answered by shadows of himself, testing his strategy, patience, and restraint. He realized that victory lay not in conquest, but in knowing when not to move — when stillness itself was the master's strike.
Hou Zhan's world was an endless battlefield. He fought against giants, beasts, and reflections of himself, his laughter echoing through the chaos. When at last he collapsed to his knees, bloodied and smiling, he realized his strength did not come from rage — but joy. He fought because he loved the freedom of life itself.
Li Wuxin's illusion took him to a desolate palace. There sat his father, the Emperor, cold and unyielding. Around him, the world crumbled into ash. "To be prince is to carry the world's weight," the illusion said. "Will you let the burden consume you?" Li Wuxin closed his eyes, and with a calm breath, dispersed the vision. "I am not a prince bound by duty," he whispered. "I am a man bound by choice." The twelve swords behind him shone with pure light, and the illusion shattered.
Wei Shuren stood in a rainstorm of daggers. Each drop was a weapon, each gust of wind a blade. He danced through them with impossible grace, never cutting, never struck. When the rain ceased, he realized — perfection was not in speed, but awareness. To know every danger before it strikes is to already be beyond harm.
Jing Ge's illusion was a vast lake under moonlight. In its depths swam ancient dragons. His reflection stared back, asking, "Will you pierce the moon or protect it?" He answered with a single thrust — the spear's light illuminating both lake and sky — neither destroying nor preserving, but harmonizing. The lake rippled with approval.
Chen Jianwang's world was silent, filled with blades suspended in air. Each blade whispered of glory, conquest, and pride. He sheathed his sword and walked forward unarmed. "The Dustless Blade," he said softly, "exists to end arrogance — even my own." The other swords dimmed and vanished.
Yue Liuyun's illusion was the simplest: a barren plain and a single seed. He knelt, touched the soil, and channeled his qi. Slowly, the seed sprouted, grew, and became a towering tree. "Peace is not weakness," he murmured. "It is power restrained." The realm trembled in agreement.
Then, the dragon spirit's voice returned, deeper now."Seven hearts as one. The heavens acknowledge your bond."
The illusions dissolved, and the Seven reappeared on the arena platform — calm, composed, untouched.
The spectators gasped. Others had stumbled out pale and broken, but these seven returned as if from meditation. Even the Emperor's eyes glimmered with quiet pride.
V. The Rival's Challenge
As the first trial ended, thunder cracked across the sky. The Northern Frost heir, Yin Qianlan, stepped forward, his voice cutting through the noise. "So these are the famed Seven? You make a fine sight. But the world does not need seven heroes — only one strongest."
Hou Zhan stepped up immediately, rolling his shoulders. "And that won't be you."
Frost qi swirled around Yin Qianlan. The arena's temperature dropped sharply. "The first exhibition match," he said coldly, "will show whose spirit the heavens favor."
The officiator looked to the Emperor, who gave a faint nod. "Permission granted. Exhibition match: Yin Qianlan versus Hou Zhan."
The crowd roared.
Hou Zhan stepped onto the central platform, barefoot, grinning from ear to ear. Frost gathered on his skin, yet he seemed unaffected. "Careful, Ice Prince," he said lightly, "you might freeze your own ego."
Yin Qianlan's answer was a flurry of movement. He thrust his palm forward, releasing a wave of frost that crystallized the air. Hou Zhan dodged easily, his movements light, fluid, unpredictable. Each strike from Yin Qianlan met not resistance, but redirection — a perfect embodiment of lithness.
When Yin Qianlan unleashed his ultimate move — Frozen Heaven Palm — the crowd thought it over. But Hou Zhan only laughed, stepped into the strike, and shattered it with a single punch that sent frost shards flying like stars.
The arena shook.
Yin Qianlan staggered back, blood on his lip. Hou Zhan stopped, lowering his fist. "Good fight," he said simply. "But ice can't stop fire that loves to burn."
The officiator raised his hand. "Winner — Hou Zhan of the Li Empire!"
Cheers erupted across the coliseum. The Seven stood together once more, their unity a visible force. The Emperor smiled faintly, but his gaze drifted skyward.
High above, the clouds swirled unnaturally, forming an eye of light.
VI. The Sign from Heaven
The world hushed.
A deep vibration ran through the ground. The sky turned crimson for an instant, then gold. Ancient runes appeared in the clouds — unreadable symbols older than time. The dragon beneath the arena stirred.
Feng Lianyu's fan snapped open. "This is not part of the ceremony."
Li Wuxin's swords trembled faintly. "Something in the heavens is watching."
Yue Liuyun lifted his staff, eyes calm but alert. "Perhaps the true tournament has only just begun."
The Emperor's face hardened. He alone understood the omen: the Eye of Heaven — a sign unseen for a thousand years. It meant that destiny itself had taken interest in the battles to come.
The gong struck once more, echoing across the realm.
The Heavenly Dragon Tournament had truly begun.
End of Chapter 3