The waiting room was quiet. Wu Jian, Yu Qiang, and Hou Jingshu had been given a wide berth after their confrontation with Húndàn Wang. The young man in question was sulking in a corner. Hou Gun was trying to reassure the swordsman, though he would occasionally throw glares at Wu Jian. Everyone else was quietly discussing what had just happened. Wu Jian could hear them clear as day.

“What do you think that masked guy meant?”

“Isn’t it obvious? That dude has obviously experienced a lot of life and death battles. I bet you he was born in the flames of war. He’s saying that his experience is more important than Húndàn Wang’s cultivation.”

“Ouch. He’s not giving Húndàn Wang or the Saintly Sword Sect any face, is he?”

“More like he’s slapping them in the face. I hope those two fight during the tournament. That would be a sight to see.”

“You really know how to rile people up,” Yu Qiang said.

“You really think so?” Wu Jian tilted his head, then shrugged. “I was just being honest.”

Cultivation was important, but Wu Jian had learned from experience that it wasn’t the deciding factor in a battle. Someone with more experience, someone with profound spirit weapons and armor, someone with a better cultivation method all could affect the outcome of battle. Wu Jian had fought many enemies stronger than himself and come out on top.

During Byakko’s test, he had fought a Human Limit Realm enemy and won without help. Yōuměi might have helped during his battle against the Hell Ape, but Wu Jian had still done most of the heavy lifting.

Speaking of, she hasn’t come out of my shadow at all since eating that monster core. Is she okay?

He didn’t know if he should be worried about Yōuměi or not. She had remained inside of his shadow and seemed to be sleeping. At the very least, she wasn’t responding whenever he called out to her.

“Wu Jian, it looks like you’re up,” said Hou Jingshu.

“Hmmm?” Wu Jian looked up.

“You’re name appeared on the screen. You’re up,” Hou Jingshu repeated.

Wu Jian went over to the window and looked at the screen. He saw two names: Jian Wu and Zhan Zhelan.

“Ah. Hmm. Thanks. Guess I’m going then.”

“Good luck.”

He walked out of the waiting room, leapt onto the platform, and eyed his opponent. The man in question was at least several years older than himself. He had dark hair, light gray eyes, and wore a pair of gauntlets. That meant he was a brawler who used his fists. His body was well-built, too, further lending the impression that this man had trained his physical strength to the utmost limits.

Those biceps are as big as my head…

“Are both fighters ready? Bow to your ancestors. To me. Now to each other. On the count of three, two, one… begin!”

Wu Jian did not bring out Pale Moon. He had no desire to use that weapon against someone who hadn’t even reached the seventh subrealm of the Anima Realm. His opponent didn’t seem bothered. If anything, he looked afraid. His face was pale, his knees were shaking, and he was maintaining his distance even though the battle had started.

What’s his deal. Why’s he looking at me like I’m King Yama… ah. I know.

It must have been because of the power he unleashed when confronting Húndàn Wang. This guy’s cultivation was not only way below his, but he had probably never felt such hostile intent before. Well… that was his bad. Wu Jian would admit to his mistake. He hadn’t meant to frighten the other competitors. He just wanted to shut Húndàn Wang up.

“Let’s have a good match,” Wu Jian said with a smile, but… ah. He was wearing a mask. This guy couldn’t even see his smile.

“Ah… um. Sure. Yeah. Thank you,” the man said.

Wu Jian made a gesture. “Come at me.”

“Here I go.”

His opponent darted forward, leapt into the air, and brought his fist down upon Wu Jian’s head--or, he would have. Wu Jian had sidestepped the attack. However, he hadn’t expected a shockwave to spread across the platform after his opponent struck it. He backpedaled to avoid being knocked off balance.

Zhan Zhelan came in faster than Wu Jian would have thought possible. He had such a bulky body. The man twisted his entire torso as he threw a powerful straight punch. Wu Jian settled himself into a wide stance and threw out his own fist.

The two fists collided, releasing a powerful shockwave that resounded across the arena like clapping thunder. Zhan Zhelan was really strong. However, Wu Jian didn’t budge. The man’s eyes widened in shock when, instead of pushing Wu Jian back, he found himself being pushed back.

Wu Jian broke their deadlock by pulling back. Zhan Zhelan had been putting all of his weight into his punch, so he stumbled forward, and Wu Jian slammed a kick into his torso. He controlled the power he used. His intent wasn’t to break this guy’s ribs or anything. Zhan Zhelan held a hand to his chest as he took several stumbling steps back.

“Come,” Wu Jian gestured again.

While his battle with Zhan Zhelan didn’t last long, Wu Jian made sure to let his opponent showcase his skills before soundly defeating him. His last attack was a jumping heel kick to the temple that knocked the man flat on his back.

Zhan Zhelan was breathing heavily, gasping like he’d run without stopping for days. Sweat covered his bruised body as he lay spread eagle on the platform.

“Haaaah… haaaaah… you really are… powerful…”

“You’re not bad either. Keep training. I’m sure you’ll be a great cultivator one day.”

Wu Jian held out his hand toward Zhan Zhelan. The older man stared at it before, with a smile, he accepted the hand and allowed Wu Jian to pull him up.

“The winner is Jian Wu!”

***

“Jian Wu is pretty incredible, isn’t he?” asked Yu Qiang.

“Oh? You think so too?” Hou Jingshu asked.

The older man nodded. “His opponent was terrified of him, but he somehow managed to calm the man down enough to fight. He not only helped his opponent, but he allowed him to showcase all of his talents to the audience. Zhan Zhelan is a member of the Battling Fists Sect up north. They’re not well known, but with this display, I’m sure the sect will get a lot more business.”

“So they owe Jian Wu now.”

“They do.”

Wu Jian had just done the Battling Fists Sect an incredible favor by allowing their participant to showcase a wide range of talents--and he had done a great job. It was clear from how he fought that he was very well trained. Even though he had lost, Hou Jingshu was sure Zhan Zhelan would bring glory to his sect.

Hou Jingshu was thinking about the tournament so far when Wu Jian entered the waiting room again and made his way over to her and Yu Qiang.

“Congratulations on your victory,” said Yu Qiang.

“Hmmm. Thank you.”

“You don’t seem to care very much.”

“Should I? Zhan Zhelan isn’t bad, but he’s not very strong either.”

“Harsh but accurate.”

Hou Jingshu knew Wu Jian well. He probably let Zhan Zhelan fight to his fullest as a means of making up for spooking him. She wondered if he also knew how the crowd would view his actions. While some might think him weak, those who understood the difference in strength would recognize the favor he had done and feel respect toward him. Only a man with a lot of honor would do what he did.

Several more people were called up to battle, but soon, Hou Jingshu’s name appeared on the screen.

Hou Chao vs. Hou Jingshu.

She glanced at Hou Chao, who wore a viscous grin as he looked her way. The blood drained from her face. Her knees felt weak. She wanted to run away. Out of all the people she could have fought, why did it have to be him? He was the one person she didn’t want to fight.

“That’s… quite the matchup, and right off the bat too. I’m a little surprised,” Wu Jian said, turning to her. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I… I’ll be fine,” Hou Jingshu said.

Wu Jian turned her around to face him, grabbed her hands, and held them tight. She stared into his eyes through the tiny holes in his mask. They were hard to see, but she could just barely make out the confident gleam within them.

“You’re way stronger than Hou Chao will ever be. You can do this.”

His words caused some of the anxiety building up in her chest to abate. She took a deep breath, held it in, then released it, feeling better. Smiling, she squeezed his hands back.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely.

“You’re welcome.”

Hou Jingshu soon found herself standing on the stage. Standing opposite her was none other than her brother. Hou Chao wore an arrogant, sadistic smirk as he let his staff rest on his shoulder. It was clear he enjoyed her discomfort.

“I’m surprised you had the guts to come up here. Do you really think you can beat me? Maybe you’re going to try to kill me like you killed our mom.”

Hou Jingshu flinched at the accusation, but she quickly regained herself. She summoned her spear into her hands. It was the weapon she had acquired during her stint in the White Tiger Sect Ruins.

The guard protecting the long handle from the blade was shaped like a tiger head, the blade protruding from its mouth. The handle itself was longer than Hou Jingshu was tall. She didn’t know what kind of metal it was made from, but it was clearly far better than weapons made from iron or steel. It should have been heavy and yet Hou Jingshu was able to twirl the spear around with ease.

“I did not kill our mother. She died of a disease,” Hou Jingshu declared.

“She only became weak enough to catch that disease because she gave birth to you,” Hou Chao said with a glare.

“It was her choice to have me. Not mine.”

“So now you’re blaming our mother?!”

Hou Chao had always been like this; he always blamed her for their mother’s death ever since they were children. He never played with her, never treated her like a member of the family, and the few times they had spoken, it was so he could hurl insults at her. Her father had once said that it was because Hou Chao was very close to their mother. Her loss had hurt him, and he had been too young at the time to understand why she died, so of course he blamed Hou Jingshu for it.

It was easier to blame a person than something as unsubstantial as a disease.

You can’t take your anger out on a disease, but you can on a person.

“I am not blaming anyone. You’re the only one trying to place blame,” declared Hou Jingshu. She twirled the spear around, spread her feet apart, and bent her knees, pointing her weapon at Hou Chao. “I’m done talking to you. It’s clear that all you want is to blame me for mother’s death, but I’m done listening. Come, brother. Let’s settle this with our weapons.”

“Tch! That’s just fine by me. I’ve always wanted an excuse to beat you black and blue.”

Hou Chao spun his staff in complicated patterns around his body. Chi exploded from his pour and washed over the platform. It took the shape of a bright red flame that coated his body. His half-a-step Human Limit Realm cultivation would have made a normal Anima Realm cultivator take a step back in fear, but Hou Jingshu just narrowed her eyes. She had fought Human Limit Realm cultivators before.

The elder coughed into his hand. “Ahem. If both fighters have nothing left to say, then let’s get started. Bow to the audience. Now to me. Now to each other. Young man… if you do not bow right this instant, I will disqualify you.”

“Tch.” Hou Chao clicked his tongue but bowed to Hou Jingshu.

“Good. Now then, on the count of three, two, one… begin!”

Hou Jingshu and Hou Chao raced forward at the same time and brought their respective weapons to bear. Their clash caused shockwaves to rush across the platform. The battle between brother and sister had begun.