Dawn broke over the eastern horizon in a blaze of rose-gold fire. It burned away the midnight mists of the Floating Mountain of Myriad Spirits. As sunlight lit up the northern granite plateau, it revealed an ocean of humanity that stretched as far as the eye could see across the vast plateau.
Nearly fifty thousand fighters, rogue martial artists, sect elders, and adventurous mortals packed the three-hundred-mu plaza outside the Pagoda’s outer edge wall. They had arrived over the preceding three days via merchant airships, flying swords, domesticated crane squadrons, and mountain carriages, turning the northern plateau into a bustling temporary metropolis. Above the roaring crowd, hundreds of colorful silk banners fluttered in the high mountain wind: the golden swords of the Golden Sword Sect, the soaring blue cranes of the Crimson Crane Pavilion, the swirling frost snowflakes of the Frost Mist Valley, and the fiery crimson dragons of the Crimson Flame Sect.
Around the edges of the flat stone slab plaza, dozens of food stalls and tea pavilions had already fired up their portable clay fire bowls. Plumes of fragrant white steam carried the mouthwatering scents of steamed mutton buns, crispy scallion pancakes, fried crullers, roasted sesame flatbreads, and spicy ginger broth. Apprentice fighters who had waited in line through the chilly night eagerly bought bamboo steamers of dumplings, fueling up for what was being hailed by heralds as the greatest trial of the century.
