The silver mist of the Lunar Eclipse Arena began to thin. It drifted like gossamer silk across the smooth dark rock flat stone slabs of the fiftieth floor.
Xiao Hei’s huge shadow had already vanished into the sky night array above. That left behind only the quiet whisper of a cool breeze and the faint scent of wild mint. On the circular combat platform, five young fighters collapsed into an untidy heap of tiredness, relief, and trembling fight-or-flight rush.
Yan Zixuan sat flat on the stone, his legs splayed out before him, his dented iron tower shield resting against his knee. His chest heaved beneath his sweat-drenched tunic, each ragged breath rattling in his throat. Across from him, Han Xue leaned against a broken pillar of white jade, sheathing her frost sword with fingers that shook so wildly the sword sheath clicked three times before the blade slipped home. Beside them, Chen Yu was wildly tallying empty formation flags, while Liu Tao laid his recurve bow across his shins. He rubbed his blistered bowstring fingers. Only little Xiao Rou had enough composure left to draw upon her wood-element dantian. She extended gentle vines of green healing mist over their bruised shoulders.
