The third day of the tournament’s first round saw Tan Xiaoling take the stage against another Body Refining cultivator.

“Why didn’t she get matched against a Foundation stage disciple?” He Yu asked. “Surely they don’t think that her desire to fight is in question.”

“They don’t,” Li Heng said. “I suspect they’re using the other disciple as an example. Watch.”

The two fighters faced one another across the arena. Unlike Xiao Jun the day prior, Princess Tan treated her opponent with respect. She bowed over a salute as though he were a peer, but when her paired dao fell into her hands she did something unexpected.

“You may surrender now, if you wish,” she said. Her voice was loud enough to carry across the arena to her opponent, but likely wouldn’t have been heard by any spectators below the Third Realm.

Several inner sect disciples in attendance leaned forward as she spoke, and even one or two of the core disciples perked up.

Her opponent looked furious, but he said nothing in return. Instead, he called his own weapons, a pair of double ji, from his storage treasure. The gong signaling the start of the match sounded, and Tan Xiaoling called forth her sandstorm.

It was over in seconds. Tan Xiaoling rushed forward as her technique expanded to fill most of the arena. The swirling cloud of dust and razor shards of sand obscured the actual fight, but it faded almost as quickly as it had appeared. When the Jade Princess reappeared, she was already making her way back to her seat. Her paired dao were back in her storage treasure, and no trace of her opponent was left to be seen. If He Yu were to guess, the other disciple likely hadn’t even landed a hit.

Li Heng shook his head. “I hope I don’t have to face her any time soon. I’ve sparred with her enough times without the extra burden of the storm.”

“What does it do?” He Yu asked.

“She used it on me once, and it’s a nasty technique. First, it blinds you. You can’t see a thing inside of it, and trying to use any perception techniques only makes it worse. All you see is this wall of earth and metal qi. From what I can tell, it doesn’t prevent her from seeing anything, though.

“Then there’s the actual sand, or whatever is in it. It’s like ten thousand razors constantly scouring you. They’re minor cuts, but each one takes a tiny bit of qi to heal. The whole time you’re in it, your qi is just draining away as you try and heal the constant damage. Of course, you could always consciously not cycle qi to the wounds. But that takes a bit of your concentration off the fight, and you’d be shredded to pieces soon enough anyway.”

Li Heng was right, it was a nasty technique—and if it were anything like Li Heng’s or Yan Shirong’s family arts, it would only get nastier as she increased her mastery and developed it further.

Most important was the fact that she’d beaten a Body Refining cultivator so quickly. Granted, her opponent had only been at the early stage, while she had broken through into the late stage. But even with that difference, there should have been at least some exchange of techniques. He Yu supposed that spoke to the quality of her breakthrough more than anything.

It only made him ache for the lost opportunity to spend the better part of a year at peak Foundation. Sure, advancing to Body Refining had been great, but how much better could it have been if he’d had the time? He resolved to wait for as long as he dared before advancing to the Fourth Realm and forming his Golden Core.

After a few fairly inconsequential fights between Foundation stage disciples, Cui Bao was called down. Like Sha Xiang before him, he faced a Foundation disciple, and also like Sha Xiang, the match was more an exercise in humiliation and brutality than anything else. The fight was over quickly, with Cui Bao’s flame-sparked hatchets doing their work effectively, if with a touch of unnecessary cruelty.

The last match of the day saw Yan Shirong facing off against an early Body Refining disciple, much in the same way Chen Fei had. This fight was a bit more evenly matched, however, and ended up as the first truly interesting match of the tournament. Most of this was due to Yan Shirong’s arts being “unsuitable for direct combat,” as the comital scion had so frequently claimed. He Yu knew better, and he could tell that Yan Shirong was holding back for some reason.

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Eventually, Yan Shirong wore his opponent down with his seemingly endless supply of throwing knives. His opponent certainly knew how to fight, but was constantly confounded by his own shadow giving rise to tendrils that grabbed at his legs and bound his weapon. In the momentary distraction, Yan Shirong would pelt him with knives, all the while staying well out of reach.

The next day, the fourth and final day of the first round, He Yu was finally called to the arena. His impatience had been building to a nearly unbearable level over the past three days, and now that he finally had his chance, he could barely contain himself. It was only a little disappointing that he found himself facing off against a mere Second Realm. Once the formality of salutes was done with and the gong sounded to begin the match, He Yu rushed forward.

The following exchange was brief and wholly one-sided. He Yu’s first strike shattered his opponent’s guard and scored a wound from shoulder to waist that blossomed red. His next strike never truly landed—his blade had barely touched skin when the Second Realm disciple puffed into white mist, vanishing from the arena. It made He Yu feel a bit better about the gash he’d left across the disciple’s chest. At least he’d be in the medicine hall now, being tended to by the sect’s most talented healers.

“That was a joke,” he said with a huff, as he practically threw himself into his seat next to Li Heng.

“What did you expect?” the noble asked.

“I don’t know. Something more? I can’t believe I waited until the last day for that.”

“You know the tournament isn’t over, right?”

He Yu sighed. “I know.”

“I get it,” Li Heng said, throwing an arm around He Yu’s shoulder. “But look at it this way, getting rid of all the lower realm disciples now just means the competition will be all the more fierce later.”

“Better be,” He Yu muttered.

“Most of the Second Realm disciples won’t last past the next round,” said Yan Shirong. “I’ve no doubt things will get interesting soon enough.”

The final match that held any real interest was when Qiao Xia took to the arena floor in one of the final bouts of the first round. He Yu had half expected her to act with the same disdain and cruelty that the rest of Sha Xiang’s coterie had, but he’d been wrong. She approached her fight with the grace that was expected of her, saluting and offering respect as was proper. The match was still horribly one-sided, however.

With the first round concluded, the disciples had the rest of the day to rest and meditate on any insights they may have gained. There was the possibility—however slim—that some of the disciples who were stuck at bottlenecks might break through. Leader Zhou Shanyuan had warned against attempting such a breakthrough, however. Any disciple who failed to appear for their match in the following rounds would be disqualified, regardless of the reason.

When the contestants were dismissed, He Yu went directly to the outer sect market. He purchased several medicinal pills, one for each of the aspects he cultivated. While he only had a day, and he didn’t think he was close to breaking into late Body Refining, he saw absolutely no harm in doing whatever he could to increase his cultivation base over the next day.

As he cultivated, He Yu reflected on the previous four days. Tan Xiaoling had been right about what she’d said the first day—this round had allowed him to gauge the competition. Tan Xiaoling was obviously one of the top contenders, crushing her Third Realm opponent. Not only had it been the shortest match, but the two fighters had also been the closest in advancement. Xiao Jun was strong, but his opponent hadn’t been a challenge, so it was difficult to gauge the extent of that strength. The same held for Sha Xiang, Cui Bao, and Qiao Xia. They were obviously some of the stronger contenders, much like He Yu and his friends.

On the back of Zhang Lifen’s certainty that he’d make the inner sect—along with Li Heng’s and Tan Xiaoling’s assessments of the tournament would proceed—He Yu really only had one worry. That he might not be the one to defeat Sha Xiang.

Although he had been preoccupied during the winter while he’d trained with Old Guo, he hadn’t forgotten that he had unfinished business with her. Neither had she. Sha Xiang had sought him out in the crowd after her match. Her stare had been as much a challenge as any words. Upon reflection, the brutality of her first match had been a threat. A threat directed at him and his friends.

This wouldn’t be the same as it had been the last time they fought, however. He’d spent the winter in training. He’d advanced, and now he stood on equal footing with her. Although she had spent a good portion of her strength already when they’d last fought, he had forced her to use that technique of hers, and he had met her blow for blow. And he’d done so while she had a stage advancement on him.

The Cloud Emperor’s Peerless Judgment pulsed in approval. He was on as good a footing as he could be against her. He had little doubt that she would advance to the inner sect during the tournament. So if he couldn’t face her here, he could challenge her then. Regardless of what happened, he would bring the storm of justice upon her.