The official led me into the lower depths of the arena where I was assigned a number and given a sort of uniform to wear. It was nothing more than plain white shirts and pants, similar to a karate gi. After I paid to stow my gear, they assembled all of us together and another attendant took us to a large room filled with racks of weapons all made out of wood.

“Listen carefully!” the woman shouted to us from the front of the room. “You are about to enter the qualification round for the Wooden Bracket. As the name suggests, this is a non-lethal match. If you kill someone, you will be disqualified and will face a similar fate via trial. You may choose only one weapon. Also, you will be required to wear a mask. You may select any mask you wish. This mask is not only to conceal your identity, but to conceal the identity of others from you. Be it a brother, uncle or cousin, the people you enter the ring with will be your enemies and you must fight them as such. No preference is to be given.”

The atmosphere in the room shifted to one of complete focus. With a statement like that, I expected to see a few of the younger kids perhaps grow uneasy, but the opposite seemed to be true. The kids, which made up more than half the group were the ones with the set jaws and steady eyes. The dropouts instead were filled with nervous energy, sweating and fidgeting. Perhaps some of them had been through this before—and had failed.

“If you leave the ring, you are out,” the woman continued. “If you are thrown out of the ring, you are out. If you are injured to the point of debilitation, you will be tagged by an official and will be out. And of course, if you are knocked unconscious, you will be out. The last five competitors will qualify for the Wooden Bracket. A bell will sound when that point is reached. Until you hear it, you are to fight.”

Those were the extend of the rules, it seemed. With that the woman then told us we had ten minutes to select our mask and weapon and to assemble in the arena for the match. There was a wild scramble as she departed, the competitors bum-rushing the weapon’s racks. Wooden straight swords and staffs seemed to be the weapons of choice for most. As I picked through the equipment, I finally found something resembling an axe, although it was a bit smaller, more like a hatchet. Good enough, I figured.

The masks were various assortments of demons, gods and spirit beasts, all made of wood and painted colorfully to the point that you really couldn’t tell one from another easily, even though they were all quite different in shape and form. Someone bumped into me from behind as I was reaching for a mask. I turned to see a little girl of about twelve or so staring up at me, long brown hair with hazel eyes. The look on her face was one of disdain, her brows lowered into a scowl.

“Let me see your mask,” she demanded.

“What?”

“I said show me your mask, Terran.”

What the hell was this?

My flame stirred within me as I stared back at the girl, but I hid my seething with [Indifference]. I was perhaps growing so comfortable with my success that I’d forgotten what kind of world I was still in. This wasn’t just some little girl. This was likely some prodigy cultivator as arrogant and shitty as Hein was.

“Why?” I asked.

“So I can pick you out,” she said. “You seem the strongest here, besides me. Although I don’t know how.” She wrinkled her nose at me, like I smelled bad, no doubt sensing the power of my hidden core. “I will deal with you first. Your very existence offends me.”

Holy shit. I didn’t think I’d ever be in a situation where I wanted to beat the crap out of a kid before, but the world of cultivators was filled with endless surprises, it seemed. Giving her a smirk, I casually showed her my mask, a red-faced bull. “You’re defeating the point of these things, but challenge accepted.”

The girl lifted her chin defiantly. “You clearly think too highly of yourself. I shall take pleasure in putting you in your place.” She then showed me her mask, a green bird of some kind. “Remember this, so you will know it is me who defeats you.”

I chuckled and then used some of the stored, concentrated frenzy within me to trigger [Fear the Flame]. “Can’t wait, little girl.”

Her eyes widened in shock and for the briefest of moments, she became just a kid again, frightened by something she didn’t understand. But as quickly as it came it went, the look of shock replaced by a twisted scowl that would give Hein a run for his money.

“You will pay for that insult, Terran. Count yourself lucky that this is only a wooden bracket match.”

She turned her back in a huff before disappearing into the crowd of white uniforms, but then she reappeared, jumping atop one of the weapon’s racks.

“This is a warning to all of you old people,” she shouted, quieting the room. “If you value the use of your limbs, you’ll leave the ring immediately when the match starts. We’ll be coming for all you weaklings first.”

We’ll?

As she donned her mask and jumped down, I noticed as lease three other girls do the same, all of them wearing green colored masks. What the hell was this shit? The mean girls club? I nearly laughed out loud at the absurdity of it all, but used [Struggle’s Resolve] to keep my emotions in check.

The last thing I needed was to bring more attention to myself.

I then thought back to that fool Li Gong Qui and his constant boasting. This was perhaps the same pre-emptive defense mechanism at work here—using intimidation to cull the weak and put doubt in the minds of the strong. The sad part was, she was still just a child yet able to wield such sinister weapons of manipulation already. And it got results too. I could sense fear from more than a few people in the room after she’d said it.

What kind of messed up world was this? I thought.

It was a clear reminder of my path.

This was why I despised cultivators.

No—correct that. Why I despised martial cultivators in particular.

My path got even more clearly defined as they led us into the arena. Qi-infused lighting blinded me as I entered the ring, the sound of the crowd alive with the pounding of drums and cheering voices. There had to be well over a three thousand people filling the stadium—a stark reminder that this was what constituted as entertainment these days.

They lined us up on an elevated stage the size of an Olympic swimming pool, the boundaries clearly defined by a five-foot drop to the floor. Faded brown patches of dried blood littered the white canvas; so much so that it looked beige in some areas.

An announcer took to a megaphone and shouted for the crowd to stand.

As they did, the all too familiar chorus of the imperial anthem began to play. The crowd stood firmly at attention, singing along, but I refused to mumble the words like I usually did, my face concealed behind the mask. Once it was over the huge Qi-luminated screens hanging off the awnings began to play something that made my stomach even sicker.

“Her Imperial Majesty, Third Princess Lunalah, graciously provides your entertainment for this evening,” the announcing boomed over the images of the princess in her regal attire on screen. She was what many Yee called a ‘fairy’, a woman of such unearthly beauty that she transcended being human anymore. It wasn’t hard to agree with the sentiment either. Her features were so well crafted they looked surreal, her hair literally golden and her eyes which were a deep jade, glittered like precious stones. The announcer then continued: “This preliminary match of the 12th annual Tournament of Mortal Champions commemorates the great vision of the true savor of the planet Terra; the wise and almighty visionary leader, and father of our beloved princess, His Imperial Majesty, God Emperor Yin Yee!”

The screen changed to an illustrious image of the supposed God Emperor himself, seated on a massive gold and jade throne set against the backdrop of a billion stars. His features were ancient, his beard long and white but his eyes were like shimmering emeralds. I couldn’t tell if they were mere special effects for the production but I would guess they weren’t. The image then shifted to a view of the earth from space with the moon in the foreground, its gray surface slowly being eaten up by plague of red carpet slowly engulfing its surface.

“The Great God Emperor foresaw that the vile scourge of the Bloodmoon had reached even this far-flung planet, but he took mercy on the mere mortals of this fledging world. He sent his most beloved daughter, Princess Lunalah, to oversee the protection and survival of the Terran people by granting them the gift of cultivation to fight against the Bloodmoon.”

The images changed to scenes on earth with people dying to monsters. Moms and Dads ripped to pieces in front of their children before they too were consumed by the beasts. It was almost too real for me to watch and I found myself reliving the horrors of my eight year old self again. The clips were likely made after the invasion was over, real people being sacrificed to the monster for the sake of propaganda. A big show was made of one of the pagodas descending from the sky with the Princess herself flying out of it, decimating a giant, three-headed dragon single handedly with a powerful beam of golden light emitting from her palm.

“With her great strength, Princess Lunalah defended the helpless mortals of Terra from the creatures spawned by the bloodmoon and now her towers stand vigil over these bountiful lands.” The final image zooned into the heart of one of the giant pagodas where a giant yellow crystal, the size of an iceberg was suspended within it. “Let us be grateful for the God Emperor’s great vision and his daughter’s strength and courage, for without which we would not be able to exist upon this fair world. All praise the mighty emperor! All praise his bellowed daughter, Princess Lunalah!”

The crowd clapped in response and I reluctantly forced myself to do the same, my inner flame igniting with something I hadn’t felt since meeting Threja—the genesis of my pain and anger taking hold. Rage filled me as the lies I’d been fed my entire life flooded back to my mind; the ignorant masses, Terran and Yee alike, lapping it up like fools. I looked around at my competitors and they ceased being just dropouts and kids to me.

They were the enemy indeed and they would pay for what they did to my family.

For the sake of my greater goal, I only had to stop short of killing them.

But that left plenty of room for everything else.

The bell rung and I ignored the pain from my stitches to grab some kid in an owl mask next to me and sent him flying straight out of the ring with a throw. I regretted it immediately, the flexing of my torso sending lightning bolts of pain through my stomach.

“Damn it!” I cursed. I flushed my body with frenzy to soothe the pain yet still it wouldn’t subside. I was beginning to think that not being able to use frenzy to heal the wound wasn’t as a result of it being self-inflicted. Perhaps it was some kind of interference from the lightning core itself, after all.

But I didn’t have time to think about that right now.

I avoided a strike to my head by a guy wielding a staff, jerking my head to the side. I pummeled him in his gut with a sucker punch, lifting him off the ground before finishing him off with a hatchet strike to his leg, causing him to cry out in pain. Two youngers then leapt onto him from behind, pulling him to the ground before beating the hell out of him with the edges of their wooden swords.

Holy crap, these little bastards are vicious! I thought. The image was surreal, like something out of a horror flick. I caught sight of several other older competitors being mobbed by the youngsters, three on one in most cases. And it wasn’t just the little green bird bitch and her friends, it was all of them, as if they all instinctually knew to prey on the weak. Or maybe Green Bird Girl’s speech had given them the idea. A teen cried out as a boy half his size bent his leg backwards at the kneed with a powerful kick. He fell to the floor screaming hysterically, right before the boy kicked him off the mat like he was a fish flopping on a pier.

Something struck the back of my calf, sending my foot flying high into the air. I fell hard onto my back, winded, just in time to see Green Bird Girl following through with a sweeping strike from her wooden sword. Before I knew it, two of her friends jumped onto my arms, pinning my forearms to the ground with their knees, two more jumping onto my legs. I cried out in pain as I flexed to get them off and then nearly puked as Green Bird Girl slammed on top of me, sending both her knees into my stomach.

“Gurgh!”

It hurt like hell even through my body hardening, all of them perhaps using their Qi to hold me down. Green Bird Girl raised her sword into the air and then jabbed its tip repeatedly into my chest like a woodpecker going to town. The blunt force was probably enough to shatter bones and rupture organs. If I wasn’t Stage Three in Body Hardening already, she would have killed me for sure.

And then I heard it.

A high-pitched giggle coming from behind her mask. The creepy little bitch was enjoying the hell out of this! I suddenly snapped, my inner rage flash converting into frenzy as [Odds against me] kicked in. I compressed it into concentrated form and hardened my torso with [Iron Skin]. Her blows became ineffectual and with a primal burst of rage I slammed my arms together, pulling both little girls with them to careen into the Green Bird Bitch. Their heads knocked together disorientating them and I siphoned a satisfying measure of pain from them all.

Clenching my gut with one hand, I got to my feet and whipped out with my wooden hatchet at one of the girls, winging her in the arm. She cried out and I grinned with satisfaction certain I had broken it. I lashed out again, but she was nimble enough to avoid my strike this time. More competitors flew in from nowhere, forcing me to back away from Green Bird Bitch and her gang.

I switched up my tactics as the scene grew chaotic. I couldn’t move fast with this damn core wound and these kids were all faster and more skilled than me anyway. I channeled my frenzy into [Indifference] and [Iron skin]. Then, laughing like a madman, I used [Fear the Flame] as I casually sauntered through the fray like a juggernaut.

I took hit upon hit, ignoring them all. Then when one of the kids made the mistake of over committing to a desperate enough attack, I snatched them with a grab and pulled them in for a devastating [Two Log Chop] to the arm or legs. Frenzy flowed freely from the broken bones and I lost count of how many little kids I grabbed and how many sword swipes and wooden staffs were broken across my head. The numbers began to dwindle and the visibility on the matt cleared. Blood stains were all over the place, a broken mask and a stray tooth here and there.

I finally caught sight of the Green Bird Girl and her gang again, assaulting another victim the same they had me. He was on his back already, two girls holding down his arms, a third on his leg. Green Bird Bitch was at the side, preparing for her cannon ball leap onto his stomach. But then she did something strange.

She spun in place, pulling her feet tight together in a martial stance, her sword held behind her back. Then with a loud shout, she thrust her palm towards the guy on the ground.

“[Breath of the Storm]!”

A huge gust of wind swirled from behind her, whipping her gi like a hurricane as she directed the wind through her palm. It hit the guy as well as the other girls with the force of a speeding payloader, knocking them all off the edge of the mat some twenty feet away.

Her high-pitched cackle filled the air as she rushed to the side of the mat to look down at them.

“Zin Cha!” one of the girls cried out from off the mat, pain cracking her young voice. “Why have you done this? We were all supposed to advance together!”

“Because you’re all too weak,” the girl, Zin Cha said contemptuously, spinning the air with her Qi. She then began to laugh. “Why are you complaining anyway? You never had a chance. You should all be thanking me for allowing you leave the competition so freely. I’ve spared you all a far more painful and humiliating defeat by my hand.”

There it was. Another young Hein in the making.

As she turned her back to them, my insides erupted into flames. To hell with this cultivator world. That little bitch had to be stopped!

I felt a stich pop loose as I went all out, channeling my frenzy into speed as I closed the thirty-foot distance between her and I in a single bound. The gasp of shock that came from behind her mask was all worth it, as I grabbed her arm like a vice. I held her by the wrist of her sword arm, dangling her in the air before me as she punched and kicked ineffectually off of my hardened skin.

“Let go of me!” she screamed and then her frustration elevated to the point of curses. “You filthy Terran! How can one of you be this strong?”

“News flash, kid,” I said as I channeled [Fear the Flame]. “We Terrans aren’t as weak as you think.” I then spun her about, facing her away from me. “Now, I’m give you something that you should have gotten in your terrible two’s, you rotten little bitch.”

The Green Bird mask stared over her shoulder at me. “What?”

Using the flat of my hatchet blade like a paddle, I gave Zin Cha the Green Bird Bitch the ass whipping of a lifetime. She cried out more from shock than pain at first, but her screams of outrage and protest quickly turned to sobs of embarrassment as I pressed on and then sure enough, after a dozen or so spanks, the arrogant, miniature cultivator reverted to being just a twelve-year-old girl again.

“Let that be a lesson to you,” I said as her sobs continued, tears streaking down the edge of her mask. “Treat others with respect and you might just be worthy of something other than qualifying for the shit-tier league one day.”

I knew she had no idea what I was even talking about, but I didn’t care. I tossed her like a rag doll off the mat and she landed right next her pals. They all pounced on her like something out of a nature show—a pack of rabid wolves ripping apart one of their own. They punched and kicked her, screaming obscenities until an official finally broke them apart.

It was a wonderful sight to see.

As I turned about, I saw a half dozen competitors standing silently behind me.

The fear pouring off of them was immense and I used it to further bolster my presence as I rested the wooden hatchet on my shoulder. “I count six of you. That means there are two too many of us, boys. If you all want to take me on at once, feel free. But either way, only five of us are making it through. Maybe less…if you push me.”

I sensed the fear in them increase as they stared back at me. A few of them then looked to each other. And then, the next thing I knew, a frantic six-man brawl broke out in front of me.

* * *

The fear of the other competitors turned to lemonade as the final bell rang. Two of their comrades lay on the ground, unconscious, but the battle was over. The crowd stood to their feet cheering and whistling for our victory and the officials encouraged us to raise our weapons to lap up the glory. My powers didn’t have the range to sample the crowd, but I could hear the faint chanting of “bull-man” coming from within the bleachers.

After rushing us off the mat, I got cleaned up and noticed the bloodstain leaking through the front of my gi. I repatched the wound as best I could and was thankful it hadn’t turned out worse. But with as much frenzy as I was pumping just now, it had to be the lighting core blocking my powers to heal. I guess I’d have to splurge on some medicinal herbs or something to speed the healing the natural way. Or maybe I could ask Mu Lin to swipe me some of those expensive green bandaged from off the job.

“Well done number 47,” the same guy from earlier greeted me as they led us back to the enrollment counter outside. “You’ve qualified for entrance into the Wooden Bracket. Only two things remain to secure your spot within the tournament.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“First, the fee, of course. It will be one tael of silver. You do have that much, right?”

I resisted the urge to throw it at him as I placed the lump of silver on the counter. “Hey, can I keep that same mask for the rest of the tournament?”

The man shrugged, looking at me like it was a strange request. “I suppose.”

“Good,” I said. “What’s the second thing?”

“Your name. What is it?”

I didn’t have to think long. Tonight was a new eye-opener for me. My macro plans of fighting against the empire and liberating the Earth would take tactful strategy and patience; working within the system until I was finally strong enough to break it.

But here, in the arena…here I was free to unleash the raw fury in my heart. Free to make pay the ones I hated the most—the proud and arrogant cultivators that callously killed my family and destroyed my entire world.

“Max,” I said as my flame flared brightly within me. “My name is Max.”

As I left the counter my new twin sets of goals solidified within my mind.

In the outside world, I would fight for the justice and freedom of my people.

But in the ring…I would have my revenge.