Chapter : 8
Impossible.....how could you...??
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"All disciples of the clan under the age of ten, step forward into the arena!"
An elder with snow-white hair strode to the center of the vast martial stage. With a flick of his wrist, two square jade boxes appeared from his storage ring.
He placed them carefully at two opposite points of the arena, their faint glow drawing everyone's attention, in which one of them were blue and red.
Qing Tian exchanged a small glance with his brother and gave a subtle nod to him, with the calm gaze.
Now, at once, nearly all the young disciples, whom are below age of ten, of the clan rose from the viewing stands, and waled toward the arena.
Their small figures moving with a mix of nervousness and excitement as they made their way toward the middle of the arena.
The disciples, soon reached the center of the arena.
Howver, before stepping fully inside, they were divided into two equal groups and guided into separate lines, each facing one of the jade boxes.
The rules were simple; each disciple would draw a token from the first box. Whichever two tokens bore the same number, those disciples would be matched against one another in battle.
It was a method designed to keep the contest fair. Fairness… a fleeting notion in this world.
However, at their age, such measures were still enough to preserve at least the illusion of it.
Two neat lines of the disciples of clan, slowly made their way toward their respective boxes.
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Qing Tian and Qing Long, though they are twin brothers, stood in the separate queues.
Qing Tian before the crimson box que, Qing Long before the azure one que.
One by one, the young disciples, reached forward toward the boxes, and drawing out their tokens with nervous or eager hands.
Soon, Qing Tian's turn also arrived.
He pulled out a token, the faint gleam of spiritual light revealing the number carved upon it; 33.
He studied the number for a brief moment before letting his gaze drift toward the blue queue. There, just a little bit farther away, Qing Long was stepping up to get his own token.
Without lingering too much, Qing Tian placed back the token back into his sleeve and quietly returned to his seat in participants area.
Sitting down cross-legged, he closed his eyes, while his breathing even, steadying his mind in silent meditation.
Time trickled by. A quarter of an hour passed, and at last, the distribution was complete. Every disciple now held their fate in their hands, the tokens determining who they would face in the trials to come.
As soon as the last disciple stepped back from the jade box, the elder in charge raised his hand.
A spiritual wave went through the arena, deafening the previously lively chatter.
"The token drawing session is over. The clan competition will continue with the first battle!"
The elder's voice echoed like thunder across the enormous arena field.
THe cheers erupted from the stands where parents, siblings, and clan members had gathered to support their relatives as they competed to become the best and get the attention from the caln.
For the younger generation, this was not only their opportunity to show their skills, but this competition was also their first stepping stone, in making a name for themselves within the Qing Clan, and by this they can even take granted outside of the clan.
"First battle!" The elder waved his sleeve and two numbers lit up in the air, showing 12 vs. 12.
Two small figures slowly stepped into the battle arena, one a stout boy, and the other, was a thin girl who looked determined.
Their nervousness was palpable, but the moment they exchanged bows, they steeled their nerves.
"Begin!"
The boy ran forwards, powerful inthe raw strength, his fists covered in faint strands of spiritual energy.
The girl dodged and weaved forward with graceful footwork, hands moving quickly to employ a defensive technique she had obviously practiced time and time again.
Before they knew it, the crowd cheered as the two of them slammed fists into each other again and again, their strikes ringing through the stone floor.
The boy's raw strength proved too overpowering, and with one last plate shaking blow, he launched her across the stage. and thrwing him out
"Winner, Qing Yun!" the elder announced, followed by a round of applause from the arena, by the poeples.
Round after round continued, some battles quickly ending in a single strike. Others slowly dragged on as exhaustion set in, but pride and stubbornness forced the young cultivators to keep going.
"Match 18 vs. 18!"
Two cousins ventured forward, so wrapped up in their own confrontation that even the elders raised an eyebrow.
The two spent all their energy in magic attacks combining wind and fire techniques, dancing around each other while sparks flew across the stage. The victor walked away with burnt robes and shaky legs.
"Match 25 vs. 25!"
A thin and quiet boy surprised everyone when he defeated his opponent in a battle of precise limb movements; controlling all the talent that had gone unnoticed until now on this very day.
Each fight only added to the intensity of the occasion.
The younger children shifted in their seats, wide eyed, as though every fight seemed to offer a glimpse of the future.
The elders in the high seats remained stoic and calm, while observing the potential, bloodlines, and considering each child's worth in the future of the clan.
Throughout the everything, Qing Tian sat quietly, while in the meditaion position, his eyes closed, unmoved by the raging grievances of battle and the enthusiasm of the crowd.
His token, number 33, lay in his sleeve, untouched and seemingly meaningless for him.
Howe ver, he opened his eyes from time to time, watching portions of the matches with neutral indifference.
There were sparks of talent occasionally, but to him, they were just candles flickering in the wind, and soon they will be offed when the real storm will come.
Then, he shifted his gaze to Qing Long, who also had yet to be called, appearing peaceful and steady, unmovable like a mountain.
The sun climbed higher, and the arena floor was marked with battle evidence, scorch marks, cracks, and even the slightest hints of lingering spiritual energy left in the air.
One after the another, the disciples fought to the end, and almost most of the fights were now completed.
At long last, with the crowd baiting in anticipation, the elder raised his hand once again, and projected his voice across the arena.
"Next battle : 33 vs 33!"
The stands moved at once.
QIng Tian stood up slowly.
Heads turned to Qing Tian.
Finally, it was his time.
The elder's voice was now loud and clear across the stage.
"Next battle: 33 vs 33!"
Dozens of heads turned simultaneously.
Across on the crimson side, Qing Tian slowly opened his eyes, the slight calmness of meditating waning from his face.
He rose and started making his way to the stage with slow, methodical steps.
And on the azure side, a taller boy the same age was halfway out, Qing Zhan, a boy whose name had been known for quite a while as one of the brightest seeds of the younger generation.
"Qing Zhan? Then the other must be... Qing Tian."
"Hah, this will be over quickly."
"How could someone who was waste first then, he has only cultivated for two years stand a chance against Zhan?"
The whispers spread quickly through the crowd. Even some of the elders frowned, already predicting the outcome.
Qing Zhan had an arrogant grin as soon as he locked eyes with Qing Tian.
"So it's you, cousin Tian. It would best for you to give up now before you embarrass yourself. My cultivation realm is already at the mid-stage of Origin Foundation. You, a Meridian Opening, early stage at best? And I imagine couldn't take even one strike from me".
Qing Tian didn't respond at his words, he just glared at Qing Zhan, calmly.
He simply clasped his hands politely with the slight bow, put them back down, and stood there, appearing to be completely unaffected by the insult he just heard.
His silent demeanor only fueled the amusement of the onlookers, present there.
"Begin!"
The elder's signal came down like a spark to dry grass.
Qing Zhan leapt forward, his footwork heavy and forceful.
The ground beneath the arena shook slightly with each step, seeing as Qing Zhan's fist, aflame with surging qi, sped towards Qing Tian's gut like a battering ram.
Gasps echoed through the crowd; at the level of cultivation they were following, an Origin Foundation strike would shatter stone.
Some expected this match to conclude in a heartbeat.
And, Qing Tian only moved a mere half step. His body was like water, the fist, which came faster than sight could follow and stroked, but not touched, by him.
He raised his palm and gently touched Qing Zhan's fore arm without a sound.
The blow had seemed harmless.
But, Qing Zhan staggered three steps back, and looking at him, his face was one of shock, as he looked at Qing Tian standing there still.
"Impossible..."
The crowd fell into a stunned silence and then erupted again in the shock.
"Did, he... just.... deflect it?"
"No, I must've been mistaken, Qing Zhan did not even use his full strength!"
"But that movement, so smooth, like he knew where the hit would land before it had even arrived!"
"Stupid!" the leader snarled, steady himself.
His qi was now surging, blazing around his fists like flames of scarlet.
"Okay enough fun and games! Let's see, how you dodge this one!"
Qing Zhan lashed out, sending flurries of strikes, then the speed and power of each blow making on the last attacks.
The arena erupted with thunder cracking as his fists passed through the air, the ground splintered under them.
In the audience's eyes, the entire platform appeared to have been consumed by a raging storm, although they were just the first level on the cultivation path.
But to Qing Tian, inside that storm, was peaceful as spring.
His steps were light and graceful. He had the look of someone boringly unhurried between those strikes as if he were strolling through the courtyard he had built at home.
His hands only moved when needed transmitting the strikes in improbable angles that determined the wrist and shoulder movement of his opponent throwing Qing Zhan off balance and weight again after every touch.
Qing Zhan charged forward, an all-out attack towards Qing Tian's chest. At that moment, Qing Tian released a quiet breath, twisted his body, and his palm fell like rain.
Bang!
Qing Zhan's body jolted back from the explosive force of the counter into his chest. Both feet slid back a few times across the stone platform until he too was coughing profusely, his knees shaking almost collapsing.
Silence overtook the arena.
Qing Tian was just standing where he initially stood, he seemed to breathe continuously, not much of a worry in his countenance like was just not an important moment that transpired.
The elder cleared his throat saying slightly trembling, "Winner... Qing Tian."
Shock sent tremors through the stands. A few disciples could barely comprehend it.
"He beat Qing Zhan… with a lower realm?"
"No, he didn't just beat him, he didn't even really move."
"Is this still Meridian Opening!? How can someone fight a like that with only two years of cultivation."
The elders up in their high seating brimmed with hardened gazes; some were narrow eyed while others were deep-frown faced.
No doubt silent whispers passed quickly in both directions amidst the elders' faces, sometimes throwing a glance or two toward the masked woman silently amongst them from time to time.
Behind the mask of Miss Xue, only could her lips barely move with a slight and satisfied grin.
"You lost, Qing Zhan!"
With that same innocent smile on his face, he turned back around.
Qing Tian once again lowered his eyes, put his hand in his sleeves, retuning quietly to his seat.
The crowd murmured while he could not hear any of it. To him, it was only the beginning.
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[End of the chpater, 8!!!]
HEllo, is there anyone reading this..????
If yes...please comment on it..!!