The grand tournament gong sounded three times, its deep, bronze deep ring rolling across the mountain peaks like the tolling of a funeral bell.
High above the dueling floor, the sixty-foot semi-clear stele flared with blinding crimson light as the semifinal brackets updated:
The entire central colosseum was in a state of near-riotous excitement.
Bookmakers in the outer ring had fully suspended betting. The payout liabilities were so sky-high that three major merchant syndicates had already locked their iron vaults and fled the mountain on swift flying cranes. A mortal—an unarmored laborer from the lower quarries who carried not a single droplet of spiritual Qi—had reached the Grand Final of the greatest martial gathering in the southern continent.
In the competitor preparation hall, Lin Tao sat on a rough wooden bench, his boots resting on a flat block of star-iron to aid in static discharge.
Beside him stood Tie Shan, step by step wiping down his twelve-pound iron pry-bar with clean sheep fat, ensuring that the heavy tool was perfectly balanced and free of grit.
At the entrance to the hall, a flurry of hurried footsteps announced the arrival of the Azure Cloud Sect leadership.
Elder Han—the Grand Elder of the Azure Cloud Inner Court—rushed into the room. He was followed by four high-ranking elders in ritual blue robes. Even Disciplinary Elder Song had managed to stagger along behind them. His face was pale as chalk, his robes disheveled from his earlier fainting spell.
