The central staging pavilion of the Azure Cloud Sect was an austere stone gallery overlooking the main dueling circle.
While delegations from the other six sects relaxed on velvet cushions beneath silk awnings, attended by servants bearing jade flagons of spirit wine and silver trays of spiritual peaches, the Azure Cloud pavilion was thick with choking tension. Elder Song paced back and forth across the flat stone slabs, his silk robes rustling with every agitated turn, while two junior deacons wildly reviewed tournament wager ledgers.
“Seventeen to one,” Elder Song groaned, running his trembling fingers through his gray beard. “The wagering pavilions in the outer ring have opened the odds for the preliminary round. Seventeen to one against Lin Tao surviving his first match!”
Lin Tao sat quietly on a low wooden bench near the balcony rail, using a clean linen cloth to wipe the dust from the steel shaft of his land-mapper metal pen. He had removed his heavy woolen travel cloak, wearing only his simple charcoal-colored linen tunic and dark trousers. His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, revealing the pale scars from last seasonal audits. The faint silver keloid line along his left collar bone, and the small spark burn mark across his right palm.
