The tournament arena roared with bloodlust. Lin Feng jumped back, his tattered gray robes billowing as Kai Drakon's crimson blade sliced the air where his throat had been a heartbeat before. Sweat trickled down his spine. His lungs burned with each desperate gasp. The stone platform shook beneath his feet, vibrating with the power of Kai's strikes.
"Look at the trash blood dance!" someone shouted from the stands.
Laughter rippled through the crowd. Hundreds of clan members packed the viewing galleries, their faces blurring together into a sea of contempt. Lin Feng spotted clan elders watching from their elevated pavilion, faces impassive as stone.
"Stand still and accept your fate," Kai said, his golden eyes gleaming with qi. His shoulder-length auburn hair remained perfectly tied despite the exertion, not a strand out of place. The crimson armor of the Drakon clan gleamed in the afternoon sun, blade runes pulsing with gathered power.
Lin Feng's legs trembled from exhaustion. Six rounds of combat. Six opponents defeated against all expectations. But this seventh battle, against the clan's golden son, had stretched beyond his limits.
"I won't," Lin Feng gasped, circulating what meager qi remained in his system. Too little. Far too little.
Kai's lips curled into a smirk, the scar across his left cheek wrinkling. "Your persistence is admirable. Pointless, but admirable."
The crowd roared as Kai launched forward. Lin Feng twisted away, feeling the blade nick his side. Warm blood bloomed across his already stained robes.
"Pathetic," Kai spat. "To think we share the same age. Eighteen years, and what have you accomplished? Nothing."
Lin Feng remained silent, conserving breath. His black eyes scanned for openings, finding none.
"You know," Kai's voice dropped, meant only for Lin Feng's ears, "I could have ended this match five strikes ago."
Lin Feng narrowed his eyes. The confession sent ice through his veins.
"You think this is just about the tournament?" Kai laughed, circling like a predator. "No, cousin. Today isn't about defeating you."
The blade flashed again. Lin Feng blocked with his forearm guard, feeling the metal crack under the impact. He stumbled back, nearly falling.
"Today is about destroying you."
Something changed in Kai's stance. His free hand formed an unfamiliar seal, fingers contorted in ways that sent warning bells clamoring through Lin Feng's mind.
"Elders!" Lin Feng shouted, looking toward the pavilion. "This technique—"
"Will not be interrupted," the head elder called down, his voice carrying across the suddenly hushed arena. "Continue."
Betrayal punched harder than any physical blow. Lin Feng froze, processing the implications as Kai's golden eyes flared with malicious triumph.
"The Drakon clan has no use for trash blood," Kai announced, loud enough for all to hear. "Watch closely, everyone. This is what happens to those who reach beyond their station."
Crimson energy spiraled up Kai's arm, coalescing around his fingers. The blade runes on his armor brightened to painful intensity.
"Meridian Crusher."
Lin Feng tried to dodge, but invisible hooks seized his limbs. His body lifted several inches off the ground, suspended by Kai's technique. The crowd gasped. This wasn't standard tournament protocol, this was an execution.
"This is forbidden," Lin Feng managed through gritted teeth.
"Only for those without permission." Kai stepped closer, placing his glowing palm against Lin Feng's chest. "And I have permission."
Pain exploded through Lin Feng's body. Not the familiar pain of combat, but something fundamentally worse, the sensation of his very foundations cracking. He felt the first meridian snap inside him, a spiritual vessel severing like an overextended tendon.
Lin Feng screamed.
Another meridian ruptured. Then another. Each one sent fresh agony cascading through him, each one diminished his connection to heaven and earth. His pitiful qi reserves drained away like water through broken pipes.
"Feel it," Kai whispered. "This is what true failure feels like. Your cultivation journey ends today."
Through tear-blurred vision, Lin Feng saw the elders watching impassively. Not one moved to intervene. Not one showed a flicker of compassion. He had been judged unworthy, and this was his sentence.
The twelfth meridian snapped, and Lin Feng's consciousness began to fragment. His body convulsed against the invisible restraints.
"Why?" he managed to ask.
Kai leaned close, his breath hot against Lin Feng's ear. "Because your existence threatens mine. The ancient texts spoke of twin stars rising from this generation. The elders dismissed it when your talent proved mediocre, but I saw your potential. Better to crush you now than face you later."
The final meridians shattered in rapid succession. Lin Feng felt his connection to the world's energy vanish completely. When Kai released the technique, he collapsed to the platform like a puppet with severed strings.
"The match concludes," the head elder announced. "Kai Drakon advances."
Kai knelt beside Lin Feng's broken form. "Take out the trash," he commanded the arena attendants.
Rough hands grabbed Lin Feng. He couldn't resist as they dragged him from the platform, through the corridors, past sneering onlookers. His head knocked against steps, his body scraped along rough stone floors. The journey ended with a final indignity, being tossed into the narrow alleyway behind the arena where failed combatants were discarded.
Corpse Alley. The place where shame came to die.
The attendants departed without a backward glance. Lin Feng lay on his back among rotting food scraps and torn training dummies. Blood trickled from his mouth. His meridians, the vessels that should have carried him to greatness, lay in spiritual ruins within his body.
He stared at the narrow strip of sky visible between the buildings. Evening approached, painting clouds in gentle pinks that seemed to mock his situation. Footsteps and voices from the arena grew distant as spectators departed, excitement of the tournament continuing without him.
Lin Feng felt no anger, no rage. Just a cold acceptance. This was absolute failure. Rock-bottom. His cultivation journey had ended before it truly began.
As darkness crept into his vision, something flickered before his eyes, a crimson screen that seemed to hang in the air itself.
[Cursed Failure System: Rock-Bottom Reached. Activate?]