“Did you hear that Senior Brother Shen Shuren had to enter the melee last round?’

“I heard that he lost to some random wandering cultivator in the first round!”

“Really? How could that be? Senior Brother is one of the core disciples of the Nine Swords after all”

“Hmph, perhaps it's time for them to choose new disciples then. Can you imagine losing in the first round? Master Wu Yimu must be furious right now!”

“All of you are idiots! Senior brother lost because those bastard wandering martial artists schemed against him and attacked together. How else could he lose to them?”

“Really? What proof do you have…”

The sound of the observers chatting pervaded the air as Fan Zhong stood near one of the stands. Currently, some of the medical staff were applying bandages to his wounds along with some salves. During the entire process, he needed to hold relatively still with his arms outstretched.

As such he was occasionally leveling glares at the two who were applying the treatments.

“Ahh! Brother Rong Ming, are you ointment or fire bee salve to my cuts?” Fan Zhong tried to keep some levity in his voice however, the look on his face was still rather menacing.

All throughout the matches, his mind had been poised for a fight. After experiencing a life-and-death battle he found himself shifting into that different mindset whenever he fought. During that time his adrenaline would suppress the pain and it was truly hard to feel it.

While training with Xing Zheng he had learned to focus and hone that state allowing him to control where the focus in battle was. Thus this led to the bored and monotone expression he gave during the tournament matches. However, just a few minutes afterward and the medics had to deal with his bickering.

For their part, they were used to it as Fan Zhong’s personality was something the medical staff had learned over the last year. Although he attended lectures his primary focus was on sparring every day. With how much of a gap there was between his skill and some of the elite sect disciples in the beginning he had been limping to the medics every single day.

This didn’t stay the same as he eventually worked his way up to standing on par with the core disciples however, injuries still occurred while sparring all the same. Most of them didn’t mind, however, as tending to injuries was their duty as well as training for them. Those who staffed the medical section of the sect learned much by administering aid to those who trained a lot.

As such a symbiotic relationship formed between both those focused on sparring and those that occupied the medical staff of the sect. This wasn’t to say that there were disciples who didn’t spar regularly, it was a part of regular training regimes so, of course, they did. It was mostly those who sparred in their free time, however, who belonged to the group that was well connected to the medics.

“Do you want these cuts closed or not?” The young man kneeling by his feet with a bandage in his hand leveled a questioning gaze as he took a needle and pricked a particular point on Fan Zhong’s leg in response.

A line of pain lanced up his leg and it took all Fan Zhong’s willpower to not buck and kick the man. That of course, would end all treatment they would be doing and he would be left to tend to his injuries himself. Currently he would be less than thrilled at the idea of having to do such a thing

“No… thank you… disciple brother… for your leniency.” he said through gritted teeth as he focused on remaining still.

“Hahahaha, serves you right for bickering so much Brother Zhong. You know the tournament is especially busy, Brother Ming is applying the ointment according to the procedure. If you want someone more gentle then go look for a masseuse!” The other disciple who was standing to his right and tending to a cut on his arm spoke up.

At the mention of a masseuse both of them laughed heartily and even Fan Zhong felt his mood lighten as he joined in. As he did so a small weight seemed to be removed from his shoulders. The difference was almost unnoticeable compared to the mountain that seemed to press down on him in terms of responsibility.

However, when one is trying to hold up the heavens even a little bit helped.

Fan Yong took a slow breath as he assumed a void gate stance. It was the fourth round of the tournament and he had seen Fan Zhong win his match-handedly in the first bout. Now he was facing a sect disciple who favored a single-handed sword coupled with a dagger in his offhand.

During his time in the sect he had only seen his opponent once or twice and didn’t even know the man’s name; however, to make it into the top 26 he must have been rather skilled. Currently, this round coupled with the following melee would determine who would enter the top 14 and Fan Yong was determined to at least make it that far. He had seen Brother Shuren narrowly get into this round through the mass melee and hoped to avoid going that route.

Both he and his opponent nodded their heads to each other in acknowledgment as they waited for the starting signal. Suddenly a boom sounded in the air as the telltale light shot into the sky from the center of the arena. Fan Yong immediately started charge forth, using a route that curved to his left to give him the extra distance to build momentum.

His opponent on the other hand charged straight at him, looking to close the distance before he could do so. Even still Fan Yong widened the arc, allowing him to get in six steps of momentum as well as dozens of revolutions of his staff. In all the force he had built was tremendous and he lashed out with half a dozen shifting palms as he retreated.

The head of his staff was like a shifting breeze as it met the sword and dagger over and over again. His opponent's brow furrowed as Fan Yong used his built-up force to mainly retreat while lashing out with his reach advantage. For martial artists that crossed the master realm the physical reach of a weapon might matter less however, for the realm they were in it still showed a clear advantage.

Within six breaths the two exchanged almost 50 blows and Fan Yong found that his opponent was doing a good job at draining his built of momentum. The plan had been to use his movement technique to batter down the sect disciple while building even greater force. He had thought that unlike a monster such as Tiyun Areal, this opponent wouldn’t be able to lock his weapon down so easily.

That had proven true however, the sword and dagger combination worked well in tandem and he often found his staff being caught between the two while the sword worked to thrust forward. During these exchanges Fan Yong had to bleed momentum to give his weapon extra force, allowing him to escape the bind while gradually decreasing his speed. After this many exchanges, he only had around two steps of momentum left and was currently contact juggling his staff in arcs in front of him to keep it going.

For his opponent's part, however, every bit of ground he gained had been hard-earned and he was favoring one side while covering a spot on his leg with the hand holding his dagger. During their rapid exchanges, Fan Yong landed a kick right below the knee on the outside of his leg. For the hit on the man’s side, he had spun the staff on the outside of his hand as he disengaged from their bind.

This had whipped the butt end of his staff up from a low angle ultimately catching his opponent in his side. Ultimately even though this man was not one of the core disciples of the sect Fan Yong still felt that he couldn’t defeat him in a short amount of time. With a sigh he readied himself and instantly fell forward, pushing his momentum into his body as he fell.

His legs soon caught under him and combined with the accumulated force of the fall the ground slightly cracked as he shot forward. The sect disciple's brow furrowed as he saw this and immediately he started moving his weapons forward and back, giving off the illusion that the blades were melding together. Fan Yong met him with an ‘Earth Origin Palm’ from the outside of his guard.

A small shockwave boomed out as his right hand pressed the butt end of the stuff up at an arcing angle as his body was stretched low across the ground. The sword met the upper end of his weapon as the dagger seemed to ring out, rapidly making contact with a few points on his staff. Quickly Fan Yong pulled back and used his last step of momentum to sweep the front end of his staff low, trying to knock the feet out from under his opponent.

As he did so the force in his staff seemed to recoil from the contact of the sword and it hummed in his hands, causing them to go numb. At the same time, the dagger in his opponent's hand flashed in four blurring arcs, far faster than it had originally been. Blood spurted from two x-shaped wound patterns on his chest as the sweep collided with the man’s legs sending him tumbling into a spin.

With a savage grunt Fan Yong kicked his opponent’s head as it neared the ground. As soon as that kick landed the sect disciple flew back two steps and landed on the ground in a heap. Meanwhile, Fan Yong let out a cry of pain as brought his hand up to clutch at the wounds on his chest. During all of this, the medical staff watched from the sidelines as the force repulsion arrays worked to stop any of the wounds from being too deep.

Faintly, the green medical arrays had also started showing up; however, the light was so indistinct Fan Yong had to focus his mental energy to see the signs. Slowly the seconds passed and his opponent lay on the ground. It had only been five or so seconds and the tournament required that ten seconds pass before a match was called.

Of course, this was when it came to matches where the result wasn’t obvious. In cases like Tiyun Areal fighting Shen Suren, the ending had been obvious and there was no need to wait for a period of time to determine the winner. However, this fight was much closer and so everyone was simply observing to see if the sect disciple rose to his feet.

Fan Yong’s breath came in quick ragged bursts as he forced himself to stay on his feet. In truth, he simply wanted to lie down and sleep for about a week. The tournament itself had been exhausting and had been going on for four days now.

Although his enjoyment of the martial arts had risen considerably of late he still found much more pleasure in simply studying his crafts or exchanging notes with his various acquaintances. That was unfortunately not in his control however as Fan Zhong and he had come to represent their clan. Through the five years of helping Fan Shun run the day-to-day operations of the clan, he had come to realize how important reputation was.

With reputation one would simply avoid troubles that others would have to deal with! Take for example being a strong martial artist, simply being known as one would cause others to not even think of messing with you. Bandits would flee, nobles would give face and merchants would not dare scam you in fear of reprisal.

Sure these problems were manageable if one kept their strength hidden however, the time taken to deal with the issues was a tax of its own. When running a clan there was always more work to do than people to do it and every bit of burden that could be lessened with a solid reputation was worth it. If even one less clansman died because some bandit thought twice about attacking the Fan clan due to their rumored strength then it was worth it in Fan Yong’s estimation.

As such he was here, bearing the pains of today to carve out a better tomorrow. Intrinsically he was a lazy person, someone who liked to enjoy life. However, when calamity was at the door Fan Yong would burst forth with a terrifying motivation and will. Such a thing had caused him to change his daily life almost completely since the fall of the clan and it was what kept him standing at the moment.

Slowly the seconds ticked by and the unthinkable happened. His opponent actually roused and rose to a single knee, leaning on his sword which he had plunged into the ground for support.

“Many thanks… Brother Yong… For showing mercy and not finishing me off.” With shaking hands the man pulled himself onto both knees and clasped his hands in a martial salute, managing to bow to Fan Yong.

He was taken aback by the other man’s willpower and words. Although Fan Yong got along with the sect disciples he had never truly considered how much these people breathed the martial arts themselves. For clan warriors, the martial path was a road to power and long life.

However, those who were in a sect pursued martial arts for their pure enjoyment and the freedom they offered. As such things like honor and showing respect to another’s arts were practically part of the very air that kept them alive. Inside of Fan Yong’s heart a feeling of true admiration and respect blossomed as he felt that, today, he had learned a truly valuable lesson.

“It was an honor to exchange pointers with you, disciple brother.” Fan Yong bowed and returned the martial salute with a smile on his face.

“En, indeed. I admit defeat! Please someone just give me some medicine, my head is ringing.” The man’s stoic demeanor dropped almost instantly as he fell backward and simply stared at the sky, grunting in pain.

Laughter rose around the arena as Fan Yong walked out from the eastern gate. Fan Zhong stood there to greet him and clasped an arm around his shoulder.

“I see that Brother Yong has truly become a tiger gaining wings, sailing forth to defeat myriad experts. How can I, as your humble and modest brother, hope to keep pace?” Fan Zhong smiled while he spoke with an air of joviality, all the while leading Fan Yong to a waiting pair of medics.

“Hmph, modest my ass. Haven’t you been all grumpy lately talking about struggle this and that? I swear even Master Hu Wu’s face is less grim than you’ve been lately” Fan Yong replied while rolling his eyes, grunting in pain every now and then as his friend’s arm pressed down in just the wrong spot.

“Well.. it's… you're right.” Fan Zhong said with a sigh as his tone turned somber. “Ever since Teacher helped me overcome that bottleneck it's hard to see the same joy in the world. Perhaps it was never there and I was only fooling myself.”

“Ahh, a scholar as well as a heaven-defying genius!” Fan Yong exclaimed, lowering himself slightly as if to gesture in mock prostration before slugging the other youth in the arm.

“Stop all that, it's good to think about your state of mind however, isn’t it ok just to be who you always were? Let the heavens do what they will and we’ll keep moving forward. You're the heir to the Fan clan and my best friend, that should be enough.”

With a smile Fan Zhong nodded back at him and the two continued on their way to the medics, Fan Yong slightly regretting his earlier movements as his injuries acted up again.

“Hah! See that Hu Wu you old codger? Junior Zhong trounced that disciple of Master Du Tian with ease.” Xing Zheng beamed as he nodded with an air of self-satisfaction.

Currently, he was over-exaggerating his feelings to fit his cover however, seeing the youth win so-handedly brought him a good amount of joy. Although Master Du Tian’s disciple was not among the stronger half of the core disciples it had still been satisfying. In just five exchanges he had landed three blows and then used that personal technique of his to land a finishing blow.

That technique should have long ago passed the threshold for expert-level attainment and is nearing the master level. Inwardly he nodded his head in approval, focusing on techniques was a good way to hone in on one’s path and would give him a clear direction on how to proceed.

“Indeed, it seems I’ve underestimated him. It's still too early for you to celebrate though Brother Zhang Zheng. In this round, that clansmen of his disciple Fan Yong, was eliminated. Even winning here only puts that brat in the top eight, far from winning your bet!” Master Hu Wu replied with vigor in his voice.

For his part, the teacher of the mortal master seemed to be enjoying the exchange and was only being spurred on by his competitive spirit. Xing Zheng sighed in his heart at seeing such a thing. It was clear that the man had long reached the limits of the master realm but had kept his realm lower to assist his sect.

One could never know how a breakthrough would go and as such mortal masters tended to do such things. Had the valley been stable and the original Sect Master, who had been a grandmaster, been alive, Hu Wu likely would’ve attempted to attain the next realm a decade ago.

“Of course, we’ll just have to see if the other core disciples can stop him. Disciple Shen Shuren has been surprisingly strong after his showing in the first round. It seems they are fated to meet in the semifinals if all goes well.” Xing Zheng responded with a nod of his head, his tone was calm and light like a morning breeze.

“Brother Shuren, it's an honor to meet you here!” Fan Zhong beamed, a genuine smile on his face as he looked over at the other man.

“En, it seems that you were holding out on me during our spars, Brother Zhong.” Shen Shuren replied with a jovial tone.

“Well, you can’t expect me to let you know all my tricks. Where is the excitement in that?” Fan Zhong let out a slight chuckle as he spoke before clasping his hands in a martial salute while bowing.

The other man simply shook his head and returned the gesture, bringing his sword up into a guard position shortly after.

“Brother Shuren, these bouts are simply tiring me. What say we skip the prodding and go right for it?” Fan Zhong leveled a predatory smile at his opponent as battle intent started to show in the depths of his eyes.

“Ahhh, you wound me, Brother Zhong. Here I thought we’d enjoy a nice cup of tea while talking about technique. Alas if you are in a rush we can only do as you say” Shen Shuren replied with a slightly exaggerated sigh as his gaze revealed a hidden light.

Instantly the ground cracked as both of them dashed forward. Fan Zhong almost seemed like a serpent blurring across the ground as he let his body fall forward and side to side. Each movement built momentum causing the air to whistle around him.

Meanwhile, his staff stayed level at his opponent as the tip started moving in blurring circles that left shadows behind. It look as if multiple of the staff was coming from either side as well as charging straight at his opponent. With a terrifying momentum, the ground cracked in six total places as he cut a curving S-shaped path forward.

Shen Shuren started whirling his sword in a figure-eight shape while walking forward with slow calm steps. Each step caused his sword to look as if it left behind after images that were drawing the same arc but at a slightly different angle. In total just three of these steps made it look as if the afterimages formed a lotus with six petals that seemed to form a barrier in front of him.

This was his strongest technique and normally was built up over the course of a fight. He had originally wished to use it when fighting Tiyun Areal. However, her ‘World Condensed to the Blade’ was simply too good at controlling the opponent's weapon, completely dissolving the technique. Now that it was displayed just nine steps formed three overlapping sword lotuses around him.

Fan Zhong didn’t even have time to be internally startled as his eyes worked to track the movement of that blade. It seemed mystical from the outside but there was a clear pattern to it. Slowly he shifted part of his momentum as he charged forward ever so slightly to his contact juggling.

This gave him that precious extra moment that he needed to focus on the pattern of that sword. The red outline he saw in the world seemed to condense into the shape of that blade as it circled in almost inhuman patterns. Outwardly it felt slow but it was almost as if the movements themselves melded with the world around them.

This was only a vague impression as no ethereal energy was used with the technique however, Fan Zhong could feel that if this technique was perfect it would be incredibly terrifying. As Shen Shurren raise his foot for the tenth step the melody in Fan Zhong’s head seemed to slow its tempo.

All around him the discordant sounds seemed to converge to a point of dissonance as the drums playing in his mind settled into a cadence. In the brief span of time, it took for his opponent to raise his foot Fan Zhong saw the pattern that formed the technique. It was there that he witnessed the flaw, Shen Shuren hadn’t mastered transitioning to draw a new layer of the afterimages.

With a roar, he charged forward his staff entering from just below the outside guard of his opponent at the level of his thigh. Fan Zhong’s body was low to the ground and he twisted to push the staff and curve his approach such that the end of his staff hooked upward to his opponent's chest level. At that moment startlement registered on Shen Shuren’s face as his eyes widened.

He could feel it, the small gap that had been created as he started forming the next layer of his ‘Dancing Lotus Sword Wall’. It baffled him that anyone could use it, however. Each hole was at a different point in each lotus causing the path between them to be like a winding snake.

Fan Zhong’s staff had entered the hole on the lower outside of his guard and traveled upward before twisting to shove straight forward once more. At the very last moment, the staff head curved upward once more as Fan Zhong spread his legs to complete a split in order to send his weapon into his opponent's throat.

Not even able to gasp for air Shen Shuren was sent flying as repulsive array of runes emitted a shining light all around the arena. The green medical arrays light up with glazing green flames that seemed to make the air itself crackle. For his part Fan Zhong looked on at his opponent as he slowly stood up and resumed a fighting stance.

Inwardly a portion of his mind was screaming that his blow had been excessive and to go check on Brother Shuren! After all, the two had become rather good acquaintances and Fan Zhong had started thinking of him as a friend. Those thoughts seemed to come through a haze however as his mental energy spread out, trying to spot the tiniest movements.

Slowly he took deep breaths and the grim expression on his face gave way to one of respect and admiration. Truly Brother Shuren had been dazzling with almost no flaws in his technique. Had he simply been willing to defend Fan Zhong was struggling to see how his charge would’ve broken through the defense.

In the end, he was certain that he would have won. However, that victory would require a much longer and more strenuous fight. Looking over at his opponent he let out a sigh of relief as the man seemed to be able to nod his head and had regained consciousness.

“Brother Shuren, I don’t know if you can hear me but nonetheless it was an honor to exchange pointers with you. Please remember to find me if there's ever anything you need” Fan Zhong clasped his hands in a martial salute and bowed low as he spoke his words loudly to make sure everyone present heard.

This was a statement from him as the future leader of the Fan clan. It was telling everyone that Shen Shuren was his personal friend and to offend him was to offend them. Fan Zhong didn’t count many people among his personal friends however, he found brother Shuren incredibly likable.

Add onto this the long hours the other man had spent sparing with him and it was no issue publicly declaring the man as his friend. A roar was kicked up as the crowd all had different reactions, some booing and some cheering him on. Still others in the crowd were talking of the implications of that action, what this would mean for Shen Shuren’s future.

Fan Zhong paid no mind to any of this, he simply walked out of the arena with a smile on his face for the first time since the tournament started.