31. Invitation
Pi Phon stood in the observation box with the other elites. Not that he really considered himself an elite, but although he didn’t have the highest cultivation of the judges who had been sent to the south for the tournament, he remained their leader through the edicts of Di Ram, who commanded respect above all.
Or so the story went. Mostly he was here because Tonilla had invited him and it was impossible to say no to the woman who was feeding and clothing nearly a hundred thousand men, women and children. He wondered if she read the report and hadn’t misplaced a decimal or two in her understanding of the situation, but as long as she was willing to keep going with the situation, he was obligated to do everything he could to keep her happy.
Which wasn’t so onerous, really. She was an attractive woman, despite being something like eighty years older than him, and he’d been rather flattered when she’d invited him into her bed the first time.
The fifty second time wore on his patience a little bit, but he wasn’t certain how to turn her down at this point. After all, he’d only been back in the city for nine days.
The other elites in the room were commenting on the elimination rounds they’d witnessed the day before, but honestly there hadn’t been a fight worth watching. There had been enough chaff mixed in that the real competitors had swiftly passed the qualification, leaving only those who struggled to reach the minimum scores behind.
“Tell me, do you know why the young lord was holding back so much yesterday?” Tonilla asked, wrapping an arm around his elbow and leaning into him.
“The young lord?” he asked.
“You know, Po Guah,” she said, pronouncing ‘little bug’ in the accent of the south which indicated she didn’t understand that it was a nickname rather than a real one.
“Oh. Yes, I did watch his matches. I can’t say why he chose not to display his full strength, but it’s pretty obvious that he was enjoying himself. Perhaps that’s all there was to it; he was enjoying fighting his opponents at their level rather than crushing them,” Pi Phon said, taking a sip of his wine. “The truth is that although I was the one to bring him to the sect and although I was his first mentor, I don’t really know him very well. I am very happy to see him doing so well, however.”
“Oh? Is that so? You simply must tell me more about him,” Tonilla said.
Pi Phon thought about the matter, then shrugged. So he told the tale of the merchant coming to the sect to recharge a spiritual stone, which he had apparently been using as a lantern, and telling the tale of a boy who had ‘broken it.’ How this had triggered the search, as the stone had the residue of having contained a significant charge and anyone who could channel that much energy untrained deserved an examination.
He spent more time talking about his journey with his three fellow disciples, one of whom was in the coliseum right now judging the matches, while the other was far to the north, subject to the ongoing corruption that was eating away at the heart of the Sovereign Summit Sect.
Tonilla listened with feigned interest as she waited for him to get to the part she actually cared about, the discovery of Po Guah. When she learned that he was born to a common family, but yet passed the spiritual awareness tests with perfect scores not once, but twice, outperforming even some of the elders, she was only slightly surprised.
She had seen the demonstration in which he had shown off a silver-path level technique with the cultivation that remained only in the purification realm.
“And once it was discovered that the notes were coming from Po Guah, Di Ram intervened. I’m not really sure why he decided to take over Po Guah’s education, but at the time I was actually slightly relieved to have more time to my personal studies, so I didn’t press the matter when his care was taken out of my hands,” Pi Phon admitted.
“And Di Ram is the son of Di Phon?”
“Yes. I was named for Di Phon, actually, in the hopes that I would ascend to the same heights, but it was somewhat presumptuous of my parents, considering that we are not related, don’t you think?” he asked. “Depending upon which version of the battle at the northern summit you believe, Di Phon ascended to the next realm, after all.”
Tonilla nodded, making connections in her mind that she did not speak. If Di Phon was Po Guah’s backer, and he retained the ability to communicate with the ascended one in the next realm somehow, then everything would click into place nicely. As for what that meant for the Raging River Sect, she would simply have to continue to string things along. Eventually she would see an opening.
Her backing in the sect wasn’t quite as monolithic as she presented to the young man beside her, but she retained enough political capital to fulfill her current promises of food and clothing to the wretches in the north. She would have to be careful going forward, lest she overextend herself.
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As the time for the matches to begin approached, the judges began taking their positions in the rings. There were eight of them on the coliseum floor, allowing for eight duels to be fought concurrently, with each ring fifty meters in diameter. As the tournament proceeded, the under-performers were expected to drop out, allowing the rings to be consolidated and giving the combatants more space to move during their fights.
But for now, the seven judges--
Tonilla frowned. Where was the eighth judge? She was just about to ask Pi Phon, but she noticed his own confusion on his face. Before they could consider the matter too much, however, an overwhelming presence appeared above the coliseum, and boisterous laughter with an overwhelming amount of Qi behind it pressed the audience into their seats.
“Dammit,” Tonilla muttered. “Why did it have to be him?”
“What is—”
“I am Tornolai!” the figure floating in the sky shouted. “And I am here to be a judge in this tournament! I assume that my invitation has gotten lost in the mail!”
~~~~~~
The matches began as the tournament organizers formed and emergency meeting to deal with the missing judge. One of the alternate judges took the place of the one who was missing until the matter of Tornolai could be sorted out. The golden path cultivator was somewhat pouty when he realized that there were alternate judges, and when pressed he suggested that something might be found in the closet of the second subbasement, which is where the found the missing judge, peacefully sleeping off a profound technique.
“You didn’t honestly think that this would work, did you Tornolai?”
“Tonilla! Our names sound so much alike, you must take my side. Let me judge these fights!” Tornolai pleaded.
“No.”
“Then I shall tear the tournament grounds down and destroy the coliseum entirely!” he roared, and his voice boomed through the stadium.
Tonilla hesitated, because she knew that he could do it. Whether he would do it or not was in question, but it was a coin flip either way as to whether he was serious. “Okay. Maybe you can judge a few matches, if you explain why you want to in the first place.”
“Because I want to!” the cultivator declared.
“Yes, but why do you want to?”
“Because I do.”
She sighed. She hated dealing with beings like Tornolai. She was about to move the conversation along, when he said “I wish to witness the fires of youth! I wish to fan the flames of passion! I wish to stoke the blazing glory of the victors! Also if you let me I will pay ten thousand golden coins to do it again in five years.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Are you being serious right now, Tornolai?”
“As death itself. I only heard of the rules of this event yesterday or I would have insisted upon being a part of it from the start! This is exactly the sort of competition I have been dreaming of for decades, but could not find the words to describe nor the allies to build! I must shake the hand of the one who made my dream a reality!” Tornolai said. “Although I don’t see the focus on being so … pacifistic.”
“The Sects don’t wish to sacrifice their precious disciples on the altar of a tournament,” she explained.
“But if you do not face an enemy with the intent to kill them, then what is the point?” he argued.
“The point is to win,” Tonilla explained. “Killing the opponent means losing in these rules, and so the point is to win without doing that. Is that not more difficult than to win through sheer ruthlessness and violence?”
Tornolai frowned as he considered her words, then shrugged. “I withhold judgment on the matter, but I do see your points. I swear that if I am allowed to judge, I shall do my best to judge in accordance to the rules as posted. The next tournament, we will revisit the issue, yes?”
Tonilla sighed. She turned helplessly to Pi Phon, who shook his head indicating that he didn’t have anything to add.
“You’ll ‘guest judge’ today, watching the matches from the floor under the eyes of one of the judges from the Six Mountain Sect until we’re confident that your judgment matches the goals of this tournament,” she pronounced. “Then you may start judging matches tomorrow.”
“And no more kidnapping people and stowing them in closets!”