In the halls beneath the arena, the young contestants had lined up for a final roll call by the Kunlun disciples. They checked them for hidden weapons and armor, and then waited. The discontented chatter of the crowd could be heard above and all around them. The promised contests were late.

The reason for the delay was well known to the contestants - one of them hadn't showed up.

Master Tan Huan arrived to check on the situation. He had immediately spotted the problem. "Where is contestant Shao?"

"We don't know, elder Tan." The disciple who had been making the final checks replied. He was a short, aged man with a long grey beard and a warm hat over his bald head. Bai Guo recalled that he had previously introduced himself as Han Gen.

"Tardiness will not be tolerated." Tan Huan declared. "Replace her."

"Well, that's just it, sir. The replacements haven't showed either."

"What?!" Tan Huan's moustaches bristled in rage. "Send someone to fetch them immediately!"

"We don't know where they're staying, elder Tan! None of them have accepted our accommodations."

"Then find them!" Tan Huan ordered. The disciples bowed, and some of them ran off to carry out his demand. "Contestant Shao's match is the last one of the day. We will proceed with the rest of the contests without delay. I cannot hold these people up, or my reputation will be ruined!"

"Shall we formally introduce the contestants like we planned?" Han Gen asked.

"No. They'll catch on to our little problem if we introduce just these seven. Introduce the contestants in pairs immediately before their matches."

Tan Huan took his leave, highly displeased. Bai Guo didn't know what to think of the matter. He glanced at Zhu Da, but the big guy looked no less confused.

"Chun De and Yang Yongliang, follow me." Han Gen called the first two contestants. The remaining aspiring disciples were taken to the covered stands below the crowd seats to observe the matches of their peers.

Yang Yongliang was skinny and tall, his hair tied up and hidden beneath a red bandana. They had been introduced by the bearded disciple who also remained on the field to act out the part of the referee. The monk and young warrior bowed to each other.

"Begin!" Han Gen exclaimed.

The martial artists stood about ten meters away from one another, their swords still in their sheaths when the start was declared. They were forbidden from drawing their weapons before the battle began.

As Yang Yongliang fumbled for his weapon, Chun De set upon him like a loosened arrow. No one in the crowd had seen her draw her sword, but already it was in her hand when she drew near. She tackled her opponent and swept him off his feet, his sword tossed out onto the cold dirt far beyond his reach.

Yang Yongliang's eyes nearly bulged out of his skull as he stared in terror at his inevitable demise. The tip of the monk's blade stopped dangerously close to the young man's throat. Han Gen had suddenly dashed behind her and grabbed her sword arm.

"Stop!" He declared.

It was obvious to Bai Guo that the referee had been far too late to stop Chun De. The young man beneath her continued to draw breath only because of Chun De's mercy.

Han Gen separated the two and raised the bald girl's arm to declare her the victor.

The reactions from the spectators were mixed. Nobody expected the fight to end so soon, and many had been disappointed by the quick and bloodless finish.

As Bai Guo observed the audience, a certain individual stuck out to him like a sore thumb. His golden haired master was seated at the very back of the crowd, her remarkable height affording her a decent view in spite of her distant placement.

Bai Guo averted his eyes. Nerves were beginning to get the best of him. It was not the prospect of a fight to the death that terrified him so, but the possibility that he might fail to meet that woman's expectations.

"...Well, all of that is moot if I've got no one to fight!" Bai Guo shook his head. As Chun De returned to the group, he complimented, "Nice work out there, reverend brother."

Chun De winked, all smiles as she stood next to him.

Yang Yongliang wordlessly passed them all by, brimming with shame.

The next two contestants stepped forward after a short delay. The two young men had styled their long black hair into identical ponytails secured by jade hairpins. They dressed in fashionable robes too light for the winter weather. Mao Xiang wore a robe of dark blue embroidered with golden thread, and Xie Heng was dressed in green. Their straight backs and graceful demeanor projected an image of esteem and wealth.

When the fight began, they took out their swords and fought in a measured, steady fashion. The crowd cheered for every daring maneuver and close call. The sound of steel battering steel was constant and rhythmic, and the fight between the two amateurs resembled a graceful dance.

About ten minutes later, Xie Heng had undertaken a risky gamble, trying to interrupt the opponent's strike with one of his own. Mao Xiang received a deep cut above his brow that nearly grazed his ear, the flow of blood instantly forcing the eye below it to a close.

But in turn, his sword jabbed cleanly and deeply into his opponent's thigh.

"Stop!" The referee immediately intervened. Mao Xiang let go of his weapon, leaving it inside his foe's leg. Blood spilled all over the frozen dirt. Both contestants had kept their mouths shut despite their gruesome injuries, not letting so much as a grunt seep through their gritted teeth. The paling Xie Heng sweated bullets as Han Gen tapped his thigh in several places with his fingers. Miraculously, the bleeding had slowed down almost to a complete halt. More of Kunlun's disciples rushed into the arena and escorted the injured boy out.

The spectators erupted into cheers at the shocking spectacle. They hailed the bloodied winner. Pride glowed in the young man's lone eye.

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Bai Guo exhaled sharply, unnerved by the barbarism before his eyes. Xie Heng had been carried further down the hall into a different room, his foe's sword still part of his body.

Suddenly, a large palm had roughly patted Bai Guo on the back.

"You look a little pale, brother Guo!" Zhu Da guffawed. "It's not too late to quit. Give your spot over to someone who wants to be here."

Zhu Da walked them by. He hovered by the gateway leading into the arena and stood there with his bulky arms crossed, as if he was all too eager to start his match.

Mao Xiang had been led into the hall. Another disciple hurried out to return him his sword, already cleaned of his opponent's blood. They set about tending to the cut above his brow. As they worked on his injury, Mao Xiang peered at the arena with his lone eye.

The giant Zhu Da faced an opponent who outwardly appeared to belong to a similar weight class.

Tian Zian was a little shorter than his foe, but he was a remarkably heavyset young man, his thick hair tied back into a single large bun. A long red ribbon flowed somewhere out of his mess of dark hair, dangling in the cool wind. Unlike the previous two, he was clad in heavy furs to warm against the cold.

As the referee introduced them, Zhu Da bellowed at the crowd and beat his chest. His outburst riled up the spectators. His opponent, too, felt compelled out of his stoic posture to strike a heroic pose, twirling his sheathed sword.

When the fight began, neither contestant tarried. Their swords laid bare, they darted at each other. Tian Zian was faster and began to pepper Zhu Da with quick jabs. His rotund appearance belied his great agility; his weapon flashed like lightning. Zhu Da's motions were slow and measured, but he kept well out of the way of his opponent's strikes with clever footwork and the occasional parry.

The giant's defense flowed smoothly into offense. His deflections had left his weapon far to the side, and he swung his blade for the first time from that position. It was a bold, obvious attack, one to which Tian Zian had reacted instantly, and, as Bai Guo had seen it, correctly. The young martial artist tried to gently guide his opponent's fierce sword aside along the blade of his own.

But the strike slammed harshly into his steel as if though it got snagged upon teeth. Tian Zian's eyes widened, his arms and legs shook. The weapon in his hand flew out as if it had been launched out of a sling, flashing past the referee. It embedded itself into the stone wall of the arena. The young man fell down.

Zhu Da was upon him instantly. He thrust his sword down hard.

"Stop!" The referee surged forward, but it was far too late. Bai Guo stilled his breath as he watched the weapon go right through.

The arena briefly went silent. Zhu Da had pulled out his sword. To the surprise of the onlookers, it was bloodless. While for a moment it had appeared as though his weapon sunk into his foe's belly, it actually stabbed through the cold earth between his arm and torso.

Zhu Da spread his arms and cried out to the crowd in triumph. They went wild with cheers. The pale Tian Zian rolled away and slowly stood up, departing the field with his head hung low.

Bai Guo breathed out in relief. He suddenly felt Chun De's eyes upon him, but when he turned, she quickly looked away.

"What are they going to do now?" Bai Guo quietly muttered. "The fights are already over but they still haven't found Shao Luli a replacement."

Zhu Da's performance left the audience loud and restless, hungry for more. And as the lull between the fights stretched on, they continued to make their dissatisfied voices heard.

In the back rows, the golden haired woman, no less impatient than the others, broiled in silence. Her golden eyes widened as a sudden realization came upon her. She gasped. Her outburst hadn't gone unnoticed, and the man sitting next to her turned towards her...

...Only to find the seat empty. The peculiar woman vanished without a trace.

...

Tan Huan watched each battle unfold from a part of the stands that had been sectioned off from the rest of the spectators. He stood straight as an arrow beside the only two occupied chairs, his hands behind his back.

A giant of a man occupied one of the seats, his excessively long, messy black hair sloppily tied back into a loose braid. His thick, bushy beard reached down to his chest. Clad in furs, the man leaned forward in his seat, his legs far apart and his thighs used as arm rests. The fingers of his heavy hands were interlocked. The chair beneath him seemed ready to buckle under his mass at any moment.

His great stature made for an oppressive presence. Tan Huan felt like he was standing next to a lion with a black mane.

But though his appearance radiated ferocity, there was a peculiar softness to his dark eyes as he observed the battles.

A woman sat beside this man, grey hairs and wrinkles betraying her advanced age. She watched the spectacle below her with pronounced boredom and disinterest.

When the first battle had concluded almost instantly, the man softly spoke. "Tan Huan. I've got to ask..."

"Yes, sect master?" Tan Huan immediately straightened his back out even more.

"You do realize that that boy is a Buddhist monk, right?" Though the sect master continued to speak quietly, his deep voice effortlessly cut through the noise of the crowd.

The obvious question caught the elder off-guard. He spoke after some hesitation. "Of course."

"So then why did you let him participate?" The man asked. "If he wins, do you really expect him to renounce his Buddhist vows and become a Taoist like the rest of us?"

Tan Huan swallowed nervously, briefly lost for words. "Naturally, he would have to do so - I assumed anyone registering for this event would implicitly understand that. But, master He Yong, I can go verify his loyalty right now. If I get the impression that he intends to renege, I can disqualify him right away."