Morning came quietly.
The encampment did not roar awake the way it had before Round Two. There was no competitive clamor, no loud boasts echoing between rows of tents, no restless pulse signatures flaring as participants stretched and compared strength. The surviving five thousand and five rose more slowly, exhaustion clinging to their bones like damp fabric that refused to dry.
The Pavilion had not been a spectacle of strength.
It had been a trial of restraint.
And restraint left marks far deeper than brute force ever could.
Inside Tent 417, Mu Qing was the first to stir. He pushed himself upright with a soft exhale, fingers rubbing sleep from his eyes before instinctively checking the positions of everyone inside. His gaze found Jin Yue almost immediately.
"You didn't move much," Mu Qing said softly.
Jin Yue was already awake.
He lay on his side facing the tent wall, eyes open, breath steady. "I moved enough."
