The crowd had grown louder with each match, cheers echoing off the stone walls of the arena. Fighters clashed across the 20 platforms, each one a whirl of steel, qi, and desperate pride. The preliminaries had begun.
--
Jinhu's Fight
The platform trembled under heavy footfalls.
Opponent: Gwak Jinsu — Outer Disciple, Heavenly Demon Cult.
Bare-chested, crimson wraps around his fists, and a smirk that promised violence. Cultivated for savagery. He rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles like kindling.
From the stands, Mu Jang's voice thundered:
"Show him the mountain, Jinhu!"
Jinhu stepped onto the platform, hands loose at his side.
"Hope he's stronger than the wall he's about to hit."
The crowd laughed nervously.
The match began. Jinsu flew forward—wild, relentless, predictable. Jinhu caught his leg mid-spin, raised an eyebrow, and hurled him like a sack of rice into the arena wall.
Thud. Silence. Match over.
Ilho's Match
She glided onto the stage like mist.
Opponent: Wen So-Rin — Inner Disciple, Emei Sect.
Elegant. Deadly. Twin swords sheathed at her waist, embroidered robes catching the wind like petals.
She bowed. Ilho grinned and gave a lazy two-finger salute.
From the balcony, Sa Gwan muttered: "Brutes… even when they dress them like flowers."
The bell rang.
So-Rin moved, a flurry of steel. Ilho barely moved. One inch to the side. Another to the back. Footwork like shadows on water. Her blade passed harmlessly...then a quiet tap.
Ilho had side stepped and came down with the hilt of his butterfly sword to the back of her neck.
She collapsed.
Gasps.
Then silence. Blue stood smiling with his arms folded. Every eye started drifting toward him. Toward the one who hadn't drawn his sword yet… but stood with the stillness of a storm about to break. "197...198...PLATFORM 19." Yelled out the official.
Blue exhaled once, loosening his shoulders and walked onto stage 19. Across from him stood a disciple of the Heavenly Demon Cult—broad-shouldered, eyes burning with inherited madness.
A system ping flickered.
[SYSTEM ALERT — PASSIVE ACQUIRED]: Perception Flow
You can now see the flow of qi more clearly. (Effect scales with cultivation)
A faint shimmer danced around his opponent's limbs.
"Shame it's not Mu Gyeol," Blue thought, tightening his grip on the wooden Jian. "I'll carve through you first."
The referee raised his hand. Held. Dropped.
Blue moved. One step—Flowing Steel. Second form—Whispering Gale.
In a blink, his blade was already resting on the opponent's throat.
"Yield," Blue said calmly, "or your head comes off."
The crowd gasped. Even in Murim, even in a tournament like this, nobody ever ended preliminaries like this. Not with death on the table—not with a first move.
The Demon Cult disciple blinked, still processing how the fight even started. Then, slowly, he bowed out. "I yield."
Above in the crowd So-Yeon stood. Eyes narrowed, fists trembling. "That… that's the one they called a dark horse during tryouts…" she muttered.
"But that was Flowing Steel…?" Her qi surged, a storm flaring in her meridians.
Below her, aides gasped for air. "Ma'am!" One tugged at her sleeve. "You're...you're choking everyone around us!" S
o-Yeon clenched her jaw, forcing her aura down. "Tch… that old man," she muttered. "Did he force that kid to lose during the tryouts…? Just to keep him for himself?"
Wu Cheng stood. Grinning like a child caught red-handed with candy, he waved at her. Brazen. Shameless.
The last numbers were called. "199...200...PLATFORM 20."
Ryul, and a member of Mt. Hua took the stage. The noise around the stadium softened to a respectful hush.
Blue looked up. There he was. No longer the boy chasing shadows in in front of their home. Now, dressed in the flowing silver and blue robes of Wudang's elite, sword sheathed at his hip, calm radiating from every step. For a moment, Blue wasn't in the arena—he was in the past. A courtyard. A sunset. Two brothers playing games, laughing. The scent of tea and ink in the air. Yeol's voice echoed in his memory: "He's become one of Wudang's youngest elite. Maybe even stronger than I was at that age."
Blue watched as Ryul stepped onto the platform, his face unreadable, every movement honed by years of disciplined training. His opponent didn't stand a chance.
The match began. A blur. A shift. A motion too fluid to track. The match was over in two strikes. One to unbalance. One to end. A clean knockout.
Victory: Tang Ryul
As Ryul turned to leave, Blue whispered under his breath: "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you... but it looks like you can protect yourself now." He smiled, faint and private. "Good… I'll see you in the finals. Let's see who's stronger."
Ryul paused. Something...instinct, maybe blood...made him glance toward the stands. His eyes found Blue. Blue's fists were clenched.
A silent beat passed between them. Ryul gave the faintest of nods—acknowledging a challenge only they understood.
------------------------------------
And so the day bled on, clashes of steel, pride echoing the coliseum. But Three. Three names stood out, three that had dominated the competition easily and cemented their place among the quarterfinalists. Nobody expected three unknowns to dominate, nor to make it this far into the tournament.
The crowd buzzed as the final names of the quarterfinalists lit up on the floating screens.Jinhu. Ilho. Ryul. My Gyeol. Blue Three warriors from a group most had never heard of: Silent Edge
Beside them stood two names steeped in prestige...warriors the crowd had expected.
Mu Gyeol, the brutal rising star of the Heavenly Demon Cult. Ryul, the serene and dangerous elite guard of Wudang.
Only three slots remained.
High above, seated on the central viewing platform, the Martial Alliance Leader, Namgung Hyeon, stood flanked by two of the most important minds in Murim. To his right, a man in deep green robes, a folding fan lazily half-open in his hand. His eyes, however, missed nothing.
Jaegal In, strategist of the Martial Alliance...a descendant of the famed Jaegal line, revered for their military genius and experts in formations. Every war the Alliance had survived, every large-scale maneuver in the last twenty years, had his name woven into its seams.
To the Alliance Leader's left sat a young woman...poised, watchful. Seori, youngest sister of Blue, and the Alliance's youngest registered tactician-in-training.
Namgung Hyeon's voice was casual, but pointed. "What's your assessment?"
Seori's eyes tracked the three unknown names below. "They shouldn't be here. No background. No recorded cultivation. No lineage claims."
She narrowed her gaze on Blue. "And yet they've not only survived — they've dominated."
Jaegal In chuckled softly behind his fan. "So we were outmaneuvered. Someone kept them in the dark long enough to bloom when no one expected it. That's not incompetence. That's design."
Seori frowned. "But who?" Namgung Hyeon gave no answer. His eyes remained fixed on the field.
In a private terrace reserved for Murim's highest masters hummed with energy. The patriarchs of three major sects watched the unfolding tournament with veiled disdain.
The Heavenly Demon himself, a gaunt man with a crown of red beads, sneered. "So this is how far Murim has fallen," he said, eyes flicking to the names on the board. "Three nameless pups in the quarterfinals. No pedigree. No bloodline. Pathetic."
Across from him, the master of Mount Hua took a long sip of tea before replying, calm and dry. "You talk much for someone with only one disciple left standing."
The air chilled.
From the center seat, the Wudang Patriarch, robed in indigo and grey, barked a laugh. "It seems my brother picking up strays and those left behind by fate finally paid off for him. Very interesting."
He looked at the projection again. Blue's name pulsed faintly. "...Still that's no ordinary talent."
Mount Hua's elder nodded slowly. "No. That boy is something entirely different."
The three men fell silent...watching the arena with sharpened eyes. The age of sects was shifting. And none of them were ready for it.
---
Quarterfinal Qualifier Match 1 Hanjo of Shaolin vs. Mei Lin of Emei
Hanjo walked calmly onto the stage. The crowd hushed. The young monk was taller than most, with heavy prayer beads and eyes like deep wells.
As he passed Jinhu, he paused. Tilted his head. "Amitabha," he intoned again.
Jinhu raised an eyebrow. "You again?" Ilho leaned in. "Looks like you've got a rival… and you didn't even ask for one." Blue chuckled. "You think he hates doors too?"
The fight began. Mei Lin danced with grace and steel, her twin blades flashing like silver ribbons. But Hanjo didn't need flair. Every step was deliberate. Every breath timed. He let her move. Let her flow. And then, he struck, one palm to the center of her chest. She slid back ten feet, breath stolen, blades clattering. Hanjo then lept in the air, leaving behind dust and debris from where he once stood. Only to appear in the air above her. Hanjos legs extended has he landed, Mei Lin's swords above her head bracing for the impact. It wasn't enough. Hanjo's force has broken her blade and he now stood over her. "Amitabha." he exclaimed and walked off.
Victory: Hanjo of Shaolin.
---
Quarterfinal Qualifier 2 Namgung Ryu vs. Disciple of the Heavenly Demon Cult
Namgung Ryu unsheathed his blade with a sigh, as though disappointed to even be there. His opponent growled, fists coated in crimson qi.The tournament thus far had been boring to Ryu, no challenge, no real fights. It seemed to him he was going to fly through this tournament and collect an easy treasure and elixir. The fight started he let his oppenent attack, over and over. Only to easily counter and dodge the attacks. In a moment that could only be described as pure grace, Ryu slashed the oppenents chest and arm. T
he match was over. 30 seconds.
"What a bore." Ryu sneered as he walked off the stage.
Victory: Namgung Ryu.
---
Quarterfinal Qualifier 3 Namgung Jin (Second Young Master) vs. Namgung Tae (Third Young Master) Two cousins. Same clan. Same teachings. But different tempers. Jin, quiet and methodical. Tae, brash and flashy. Their swords sang...each clash a testament to the Namgung Clan's swordsmanship. The audience leaned forward with every parry, every spin. In the end, Jin sidestepped a reckless overhead slash and struck Tae across the chest with the flat of his blade.
Victory: Namgung Jin.
---
And so the Quarterfinalists were named:
Blue – Silent Edge vs. Mu Gyeol – Heavenly Demon Cult
Tang Ryul – Wudang vs. Namgung Ryu – Namgung Clan
Jinhu – Silent Edge vs. Hanjo – Shaolin
Ilho – Silent Edge vs. Namgung Jin – Namgung Clan
As the last gong echoed across the coliseum, the crowd rose to their feet.
These were no longer just participants.
These were warriors. And the real tournament… was only just beginning.