The residence shuddered as something slammed into the protective dome outside. Master Mo Jian scoffed.

  “You’re dreaming if you think you can break in here,” he said acidly, flicking an arm with effortless precision. From the folds of his sleeve, the Heaven Enshrouding Ding, no larger than a grain of rice, slipped out and streaked toward the source of the disturbance. Moments later, the sound of impact reached them: heavy yet muted, as though steel had been wrapped in silk, followed by the delicate tinkle of splintering glass.

  The tremors ceased. The Heaven Enshrouding Ding zipped back, still shrunk to its miniature form, and vanished once more into Master Mo Jian’s sleeve. He settled back into his chair, resuming his slow, deliberate sip of tea, as if the world outside had never existed.

  From outside came a tinny voice, growing fainter with every word. “This Lan Wuyou has been thwarted, but only for so long. Mark my words, Bai Ning. I will be back.”

  The last word was barely audible. Bai Ning hesitated, unsure how to respond, and frankly, whether a response was appropriate in this situation at all. Her actual feelings were stuck on how embarrassingly he was behaving, and laughing in his face would probably only make things worse.

  Before she could resolve her dilemma, Fan Mei spoke up, her gaze flicking sideways, as if she could peer through the walls themselves. “Bold,” she said, the single word suspended in the air. Her tone was unreadable, perched delicately between a compliment and a condemnation; though Bai Ning could not tell which.

  Master Mo Jian snorted again, more amused than impressed. “Reckless, more like. What did he think he could accomplish against two Core Formation cultivators?” He paused, his brow furrowing as though recalling something unpleasant. Then he turned to Bai Ning with an inquisitive tilt of his head. “Wait… was this the cultivator who declared eternal hatred against your team in the second round? The one who vowed revenge at all costs?” His voice held genuine doubt, as though he still wasn’t convinced the incident had actually happened.

  Bai Ning gave him an irritated look, less at the topic in question, and more at his disbelief at her story. “Yes, the very one. I wish you hadn’t let him go. Now he’s going to be a recurring headache for me, over and over again.”

  Mo Jian gave her a flat look. “There is a world of difference between helping you and openly helping you. The former is not technically against the rules, and it serves the purposes of the seniors, so they allow it. The latter, however, would get us disqualified. There are more than a hundred Core Formation cultivators in this ring; if every one of them started shielding their favored contestants – because they are their students, or relatives, or simply to exchange favors – this round would become meaningless. No, we may act only so long as we do not tweak anyone’s nose, and that means limiting what we do.”

  Fan Mei nodded from where she leaned against the wall, looking faintly bored. “Your master is right, Junior Bai Ning. This is the best place for you right now, but we must limit how we intervene if we want you to reach the third round without complications. Lord Qing has given his approval, so we are almost guaranteed to pass, but it is still better to maintain the veneer of fairness. One fool does not matter at that scale; let him go, and put him out of your mind.”

  Bai Ning puffed out her cheeks in displeasure but ultimately said nothing, only crossing her arms with a huff. She was grateful for the help, and for how invested so many people were in her success, but she also wanted to win on her own merits, not through favors or rule-lawyering. On the other hand, she knew that was a childish mindset, which was why she didn’t argue. Besides, she had asked her master to send word to her friends so they could also hide under the protection of Yue Shuangyi’s master, so it would be hypocritical to refuse the same shelter for herself.

  The voice that had announced the bonus round earlier returned. It was just as loud, resonant, and seemingly able to reach every corner of the cloud ring as before. It had been giving periodic updates throughout the night, ever since the bonus round began.

  “Fu Zhan defeats Chu Bai near the Grand Crimson Betting House. Chu Bai is eliminated.”

  Fan Mei sniffed. “That makes it, what, the tenth person he’s defeated since the round began? He seems to be in a festive mood tonight.”

  Master Mo Jian appeared to share her sentiment. “The eleventh, actually,” he said, tone one of weary commiseration. “I’ve been keeping count. On one hand, it’s good for us, since it maximizes Bai Ning’s chances of advancing. But on the other hand…”

  They exchanged grim looks and nodded, both clearly envisioning Fu Zhan bursting in to challenge her, a notion foolish for all sorts of reasons. The least of them being that defeating him in the tournament was the entire reason Senior Fan Mei had brought Bai Ning into the fold to begin with. Bai Ning held back an eye-roll with nearly herculean effort. If she were out there, she would have an equally impressive record.

  The voice chimed in again with another announcement:

  “Jin Rou of Blackrock Island defeats Tang Qing of the Harmonious Rain Sect near the Puppeteer’s Hall. Tang Qing is eliminated.”

  Bai Ning jolted upright from where she had begun to slouch. “Jin Rou? He was participating?” Her surprise was genuine; she definitely hadn’t seen him during the second round. Then again, with over a hundred cultivators present, it was easy to miss someone in the crowd.

  Mo Jian looked just as startled for a moment, before his expression settled into resigned exasperation. “Of course he is. For a tournament this grand, with a prize so incalculable, everyone is motivated to come. We might encounter every Foundation Establishment cultivator we know somewhere on this cloud ring before the end.”

  Huh. Bai Ning nodded slowly, wondering whether she might face Jin Rou in the third round. She felt a little guilty for the thought, even in the privacy of her own mind, but she didn’t really expect it. He was skilled, a prodigy where he came from, but this was a gathering place of prodigies. He didn’t truly stand out, not compared to some of the talents she’d seen. Even Li Kang and Chen Zhuhe, people she’d met purely by accident, were likely stronger than him.

  Another announcement came barely a minute after they fell into silence:

  “Monk Fahai Sattavadeva defeats Rong Xueya, Mu Yeshou, and Gu Yansha near the Lesser Residences. All three are eliminated.”

  Fan Mei grunted, the small sound drawing both Mo Jian’s and Bai Ning’s attention.

  “You know this monk, Sister Fan Mei?” Mo Jian asked.

  Fan Mei nodded, looking slightly harried. “Know is too strong a word. I’ve heard of him. He’s a pure fellow, someone who fights evil righteously and expects others to uphold the same standards. He has something of a following, made up of those he has saved from demonic cultivators. He was strongly against this whole tournament from the beginning, though of course his voice held no real weight. Afterward, he declared he would participate to ensure no demonic beings get close to the prize. But his relationship with Lord Qing is… strained, so…”

  Mo Jian nodded in understanding, while Bai Ning perked up at the image Fan Mei painted. She imagined a Buddhist monk; bald, in simple yellow robes, carrying a staff and an alms bowl, striking down evil. He sounded like a fascinating participant.

  She spoke before she could stop herself. “He sounds like an all right fellow. Besides, making sure Fu Zhan doesn’t win is one of our goals, right?”

  Before anyone could respond-

  -the voice returned, this time laced with anger.

  “Li Haotao of the Tail Fan Islands is eliminated for attempting to harm non-participants during his battle with Fairy Yun of Azure Wall City.” A sound followed, like someone flicking a curtain of cloth with a finger. Soft, unobtrusive, yet unmistakable. “Begone with you. He is hereby banished from the cloud ring.”

  There was a beat of silence before Bai Ning spoke up hesitantly, replaying the announcement in her mind. “Was he… was he thrown off the cloud ring?” She couldn’t imagine another explanation.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Master Mo Jian nodded, largely indifferent. “Seems so. He’ll survive, so don’t worry. They wouldn’t strike him hard enough to kill him or stop him from retrieving a flying tool.”

  She nodded, still a little unnerved. It was good news for her parents, at least, given they were spending their time wandering around and observing the ongoing fights. The stronger the response against harming non-participants, the safer they were.

  She paused, mulling over another thought. “Fairy Yun,” she mused, recalling her last visit to Azure Wall City. “Do you think she’s related to the Island Master?”

  Mo Jian hummed noncommittally. “Maybe, maybe not. We don’t know enough to say either way.” Then he shot her a knowing look. “Why? Interested in maintaining an acquaintanceship with someone relatively close to us?”

  “More like beating her up for the whole auction incident,” Bai Ning muttered. Master Mo Jian shook his head, equal parts amused and exasperated.

  Fan Mei spoke up, sounding entertained. “In terms of grudges, that’s all fine and well, but I’ll admit I’m a little surprised. I didn’t take you for someone who seeks revenge over such things.”

  Bai Ning flashed a bright smile and tossed her hair back. “What revenge? I’m just pumping myself up for the third round.” She pressed a hand to her chest, eyes wide with exaggerated innocence. “I’d never be that uncouth.”

  Fan Mei looked thoroughly entertained, but Master Mo Jian muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath. Bai Ning made a mental note to drive him up the wall later. Shouldn’t he be defending her virtue as her teacher? Something like, “Yes, she’d never be that uncivilized,” or “Well said, my beloved and supremely talented disciple.”

  Apparently not.

  Another announcement rang through the air, pulling their attention back from their banter.

  “Ming Tianlong defeats Song Ruian near the Eighteen Pillars Restaurant. Song Ruian is eliminated.”

  Once again, her master and Senior Fan Mei exchanged a look heavy with meaning, their expressions darkening. This time, Bai Ning didn’t need an explanation. She recognized the contestants: Ming Tianlong was a cultivator left over from the Ming family, spared by Song Shaoyue for her own inscrutable purposes. Song Ruuan was likely from the Song clan, hailing from the mainland. For a cultivator from the mainland to be defeated by someone from the Ming family said a lot, and none of it good.

  She understood the sour expressions. The Ming family’s internal affairs had already caused her trouble once, so she wasn’t exactly eager to encounter them again. On the other hand, if it humbled the Song clan, she was all for it. A conundrum, indeed.

  And so the night rolled on. Their barrier was not tested a second time, but announcements continued to come and go, reporting who had fallen and who had prevailed. Fu Zhan claimed another two victories before the announcer stopped mentioning him, a detail that piqued Bai Ning’s curiosity. Another announcement even noted Gang Rong, sect leader of the Golden Marrow Sect and a friend of her parents, losing to Jin Shihan from Nine Heavens City.

  Bai Ning kept mental notes of the winners and their opponents, trying to sketch a picture of her future opponents, incomplete and full of gaps as it was. Fan Mei, meanwhile, leaned against the wall, examining the mosaics with interest, or simply strumming her zither, which she had produced halfway through the night, the ghostly Niumowang dancing beside her.

  Bai Ning’s attention had been briefly captured by the ghostly bull demon king, but it didn’t seem to notice or remember her at all. What a pity. She wouldn’t have minded playing with it a bit.

  Master Mo Jian, on the other hand, simply sipped his tea. And sipped. And sipped. She was tempted to steal his cup, but she had tried that before at Cloud Veil Ridge, and he had started carrying extras in his storage pouch, both to enjoy his tea uninterrupted and to give her a smug look when she failed. Not for long, though. He didn’t know it yet, but she had replaced his favored tea leaves with a batch she had obtained from a local market, called the dung tea leaves. They were supposedly processed from a breed of mortal lizards that consumed the leaves and excreted them, but the resulting tea was said to have a refined taste.

  Bai Ning could not have cared less about refinement. Her eyes had lit up halfway through the explanation. She didn’t even remember why she had done it – she had been plotting some kind of prank on him – but the specifics escaped her right now. Had it been because he had thrown her to her mother’s mercy after the Gu incident? Her parents had not been impressed by her willingness to get into fights like that.

  Sounded likely. He probably expected retaliation for that incident, but certainly not from this angle. She couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he discovered where his precious tea had come from.

  “No offense, Brother Mo,” Fan Mei finally said, stirring from where she had leaned against the wall and putting away her zither. “But I might as well have gone with Sister Nui Feng to the upper ring. I’m not really serving a purpose here, and that way I could have given a better accounting of all the opponents your disciple would face in the third round.”

  Master Mo Jian gave a helpless shrug. “None taken, and I don’t necessarily disagree. We thought the night might become far more challenging than it has. I don’t blame you for being bored.”

  Bai Ning shot him an outraged look, which he ignored with ease. Typical. Absolutely typical. Hadn’t he just lectured her on the merits of patience, claiming that passing years without a change in expression was the mark of a true cultivator? But now, when it came to Fan Mei, suddenly it was “understandable.”

  The faint guilt she had felt over the dung tea prank vanished. Served him right.

  Thankfully, the night was drawing to a close. The announcer’s voice returned, deep and resonant, carrying a weight that silenced every sound with sheer authority. Not louder, but unshakably final.

  “All contestants, cease fighting! I repeat, all contestants, cease fighting! Only twelve remain, and all shall advance to the third round of the tournament in two days. Hear now their names, and know their deeds and destinies!

  “First, the dragon among men, who rose through the clouds and carved his name across the Thousand Shattered Islands with unyielding strength and ferocity. Let the heavens bear witness to Fu Zhan, the mighty, who fights under the banner of Old Devil Fu.

  “Next, a wandering monk whose virtue shines brighter than the stars, a beggar who stands equal to kings. Fahai Sattavadeva, whose heart is pure and whose resolve is steel, fights under the banner of Ancestor Qing. Let all behold the serenity of his power.

  “Third, the enigma cloaked in layers of shadow, the master of a thousand puppets, whose secrets dance upon the edge of perception. Sheng Xian, who fights under the banner of the Lord of the Lonely Roads, steps into the light. Will the truth of his mysteries be revealed in the battles to come?

  “Fourth, the chosen scion of a disgraced clan, now guided by the rising tide of a new and formidable power. Ming Tianlong, whose path cuts through storm and strife, fights under the banner of the mighty Song clan. Let all honor the courage of one who charts his fate upon a treacherous sea.

  “Fifth, Song Shaixue, young master of the Song clan, hailing from the mainland, bearing the hopes of three Nascent Soul elders. His destiny is boundless, his spirit unyielding. Bid welcome to him, who fights under the banner of the mighty Song clan.

  “Sixth, Fairy Yun of Azure Wall City, a cultivator whose beauty and strength have dazzled the world, emerging from obscurity like a comet blazing across the night sky. She fights under the banner of Ancestor Qing. Let her presence ignite awe in all who behold her.

  “Seventh, the man whose body shines like gold and diamonds, whose strength is the envy of the heavens themselves. Jin Shihan, a body cultivator from the great Nine Heavens City, fights for the glory of Ancestor Qing and in the name of the prince. Let the world tremble at his coming.

  “Eighth, Hei Lian, a demonic cultivator upon the path of the soul, whose victories are measured in the stolen essence of her foes. Each battle feeds her power, and her aura chills the hearts of even the bravest. She fights under the banner of Old Devil Fu. Beware the shadow she casts.

  “Ninth, Li Kang, the great swordsman of the Seven Light Enclosure, whose blade has severed a dozen demonic cultivators in the line of duty. He fights under the banner of the orthodox sects, for Ancestor Qing. Witness the calm fury of one who wields the blade as destiny itself.

  “Tenth, the only disciple of the illustrious Liu Rushi, whose elegance and power mirror that of her master. Yue Shuangyi, the frozen lotus blooming even in the depths of darkness, steps forth to fight under the banner of-huh?” The voice faltered for a heartbeat, then flowed on as if nothing had occurred: “-the Lord of the Lonely Roads.”

  “Eleventh, the rogue cultivator who has wandered the islands for decades, a shadow drifting from the archipelago to the far reaches of the Trackless Sea. Chen Zhuhe fights under the banner of the Lord of the Lonely Roads, his path carved by freedom and defiance.

  “And last, but by no means least, the rising star of Lady Fan Mei, a cultivator whose speed and skill have stunned the tournament. Bai Ning fights under the banner of Ancestor Qing. Let all behold her ascent, swift and unstoppable.

  “Congratulations to all finalists. Fight with valor, fight with honor, and let the legends of your deeds echo across the ages!”

  With that, the great voice fell silent, leaving behind a only crackling anticipation in the hearts and minds of everyone awaiting the final round.

  Or at least, it should have. Bai Ning spoke up, clearly irritated. “I am not the student of Senior Fan Mei. And what’s with declaring me last, and with such an uninspiring note? This is discrimi-”

  She was swiftly cut off by Mo Jian, who shushed her with a mix of desperation and urgency, while shooting apologetic glances toward Fan Mei, and also warily glancing toward the ceiling, as if afraid the announcer might descend in person to reprimand them.

  Fan Mei, for her part, looked tolerantly amused, hiding a smile behind a discreet cough into the wide sleeves of her silver robes.

  Bai Ning, having shrugged off Mo Jian’s restraining hand, still pouted up at him. “We should complain. That introduction was completely wrong. They made Li Kang sound way more impressive than me. Li Kang,” she repeated for emphasis, “he spent the whole second round whining.”

  Outside, the wind carried cloud blossoms by the hundreds, pale as drifting snowflakes, gliding across the night sky and reflecting the silver light of the moon. Their floral scent spread through the cloud ring, bright and sweet, yet it could not mask the sharp tang of blood. Iron and copper, thick and cloying, it mingled with the blossoms, drenching the beautiful expanse in a faint note of horror. How many cultivators had fallen tonight? Few, in the grand scheme of things. Few, even by the tournament’s own count.

  Such was the way of cultivation. Grand and majestic, yet drenched in blood.