“Wait a second,” twelve-year-old Gu Nian growled, his small hands clamping onto the wooden porch railing of the [Gu Family Flying Courtyard Star-Cruiser] as black-gold Chaos Qi flared around his elbows.
“That guy in the white robes is about to chop an eight-year-old kid’s head off—and a hundred thousand people in the stands are cheering for him?!”
Up on the holographic projection screen floating above the courtyard’s front gate, the live planetary broadcast from Blazing-Flame City filled the starry sky with roaring sound.
Down on the blood-stained basalt duel platform of World #1’s Imperial Colosseum, Rank 7 Early Chosen One Xiao Huo stood with his chin tilted toward the clouds. His spotless white silk robes fluttered in the hot volcanic breeze while his heavy, ten-thousand-pound black iron broadsword blazed with purple Strange Fire.
Right under the sole of Xiao Huo’s embroidered boot lay the shattered pieces of a blue longsword. Beside the broken blade knelt nineteen-year-old Nalan Yan, her blue sect uniform torn at the shoulder and blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. Meanwhile, She threw her arms over a wooden stretcher.
On that stretcher lay her eight-year-old little brother, Nalan Ming. The boy’s lips were bluish-purple, his tiny chest heaving weak puffs of frost-mist while dark, freezing blood soaked into the white linen blanket beneath him.
