The holding area was chaos.
Not the dangerous kind. The social kind. Disciples clustered in groups, and within those groups, old rivalries simmered like pots left too long on a fire.
"—and I'm telling you, Han Feng, you only won last time because I slipped."
"Slipped? You fell on your face. There's a difference."
"There is no difference! It was a tactical slip!"
Two disciples stood nose to nose, one tall and reedy with a face like a disappointed horse, the other short and stocky with fists the size of hammers. Their auras clashed at Body Tempering 8, sparks practically visible between them.
A third disciple, skinny, nervous, clearly regretting every choice that had led him here hovered nearby. "Guys, can we not do this right now? The tenth stage starts any minute—"
"Stay out of it, Wei Ping."
"I'm just saying—"
"STAY OUT OF IT."
Wei Ping shut his mouth.
Across the holding area, another cluster had formed. This one was quieter, more calculating. A female disciple with a scar across her eyebrow was speaking in low tones to three others.
"The strategy is simple. We target the strongest first. Gang up, eliminate them, then fight among ourselves. Agreed?"
"And what if the strongest is one of us?"
"Then we eliminate them too. This isn't about friendship. It's about rankings."
One of her companions, a boy with a broken nose and a permanently confused expression raised his hand like he was in a classroom. "What if the strongest is me?"
The female disciple stared at him. "It's not you, Zhao."
"How do you know?"
"Because you once lost a fight to a training dummy."
"I only tripped over myself also that dummy was very aggressive!"
"It was made of straw."
"AGGRESSIVE STRAW."
---
Nearby, a group of disciples were huddled around a boy with a face like a weasel. He was talking fast, hands moving, the center of attention.
"—and I'm telling you, it's true! My brother-in-law's friend's wife's sister's brother. He's a disciple in the Vermilion Bird Sect — he saw it happen!"
"Saw what happen?"
"The beast! The giant beast! It swallowed an entire hunting party! Fifteen cultivators! All Body Tempering 8 at least!"
"No way."
"It's true! The beast was this big—" the weasel-faced boy spread his arms wide, then wider, then gave up. "Bigger! It was a... a sky-serpent. No. A thunder-ape. No—" He squinted, thinking hard. "A blood-maddened sky-serpent-ape. With three heads."
"Three heads?"
"Three heads and nine tails and it breathed poison that melted stone!"
"That sounds made up."
"It's not made up! My brother-in-law's friend's wife's sister's brother said the beast swallowed them whole and they were inside its stomach for six days!"
The crowd gasped.
Lu Chen's eye twitched.
Six days?
I know.
I know.
I know.
I know.
And yet.
They both paused.
The weasel-faced boy was still talking. "—and when they finally escaped, they had to fight their way out through the beast's other end. Covered in bile and stomach acid and—"
"Stop, stop, I'm going to be sick—"
"—and the worst part? The worst part is that the beast enjoyed it!"
The crowd erupted in disbelief.
Lu Chen stared.
Don't.
I know.
I know.
You're uncomfortable?
---
The weasel-faced boy continued, oblivious to the two beings having an existential crisis nearby.
"And that's not even the worst part! The beast, the sky-serpent-ape, it talked. It said, 'You taste like disappointment.' And then it laughed."
The crowd went silent.
"That's terrifying."
"That's the most terrifying thing I've ever heard."
"I'm going to have nightmares."
Lu Chen's face was carefully blank.
What.
No.
No.
No.
Because the universe has a sick sense of humor.
Join the club.
---
A gong sounded from the arena.
"The ninth elimination stage is concluded!" A voice boomed across the grounds. "Qualifiers, report to the eastern wing for registration. Tenth elimination stage participants prepare to enter!"
The holding area erupted.
Not in chaos. In movement. Disciples cracked knuckles, adjusted robes, said final prayers to ancestors. The tall horse-faced disciple and the stocky hammer-fisted disciple glared at each other one last time.
"See you on the stage, Han Feng."
"Try not to slip."
"I'll slip on your GRAVE."
"That doesn't even make sense."
"It makes PERFECT sense!"
Wei Ping, the nervous one looked like he was about to cry.
The scar-eyed female disciple was already moving toward the stage entrance, her team following. Zhao, the one who'd lost to a training dummy, was asking anyone who would listen if the dummy was going to be in the tournament.
The weasel-faced boy was still talking.
"—and then the sky-serpent-ape vomited them out, and they were still alive, but they'd been changed. Their hair was white. Their eyes glowed. And one of them could speak to insects—"
"That's enough," someone said. "That's enough."
Lu Chen rolled his shoulders.
Are you done?
Almost?
The tenth elimination stage was about to begin.
[TO BE CONTINUED...]