In a shattered city, the massive coliseum stood defiantly at its heart, a haunting testant to a bygone era.
The air was thick with the acrid stench of blood, a reminder of the violence that once unfolded within its walls.
Broken and scarred, the surrounding structures bore the marks of fierce battles; splintered stones and jagged edges reflected a chaotic history.
The wide road stretching before the coliseum was pockmarked with cracks and craters, remnants of countless conflicts that had scarred the land.
Here, the skeletal remains of brave warriors lay scattered, silent witnesses to the ancient war that had ravaged the realm.
Ancient statues of valiant fighters, cleaved and marred, seed to pulse with a lingering hostility, as if their spirits still craved vengeance.
Legends spoke of these restless souls, eternally bound to the site of their demise, driven by unfathomable hatred—a battle that raged beyond the veil of death itself.
Thus, in honor of the fallen warriors, brave souls, the annual Western Tournant took place in this ancient city.
The once-fallen city, typically engulfed in an eerie silence and the mournful howling of the wind that seed to weep for its lost souls, transford dramatically when the ti for the tournant arrived.
On this day, the ancient ruins welcod thousands of spectators, filling the streets with an infectious energy.
Today, the deserted remnants of the past buzzed with life as rchants set up makeshift stalls amid the broken structures, turning the ruins into a marketplace alive with color and sound.
The crumbling buildings served as impromptu tents, offering shelter for vendors displaying their wares, from glittering trinkets to fragrant food.
Peddlers moved through the crowd, their voices rising above the clamor, cheerfully hawking their goods.
What once appeared as desolation was now infused with the vibrancy of life and laughter, creating an illusion of resurrection.
The city seed to awaken from its long slumber, reminding all who dared enter of a ti when it thrived.
Inside the massive coliseum, thousands of spectators filled the seats to the brim. Laughter and gossip echoed in the air.
"Who do you think will be this year’s winner?"
"I don’t know. But I hope it will be the Dust Valley Sect."
"Hahaha. Everyone is very hopeful for the Dust Valley Sect this year."
"Indeed, the Radiant Sect has lost the trust of the people."
As the people were discussing, the contesting clans arrived one after the other. Each clan and sect had a separate pavilion.
"Oh look! It is the Wei clan."
"Last ti, their luck was good. I hope this year, they will climb higher in the rankings."
"Hmm? Who are those? I’ve never seen their faces before."
"I don’t know. Perhaps, they’re new clans, hoping to try their luck."
"Right... I hope they give us an exciting battle to watch."
The weaker clans arrived one after the other while the influential clans began to arrive. The audience could not get enough of it.
"Look! The top three clans have arrived," a voice shouted.
Quickly, everyone turned their heads and looked at the top three clans.
The Bai clansn wore prideful expressions as they marched toward their pavilion. Behind them, the Fang clan and Lei clan were not overshadowed.
Each dressed in an expensive robe, their faces full of confidence and pride.
Leading the Bai clan disciples was a cold, beautiful girl. Her long legs and thin waist captured the attention of the spectators.
She was known as the Ice Goddess.
For the Fang and Lei clans, two handso young n strode forward confidently.
Even though they were not as popular as the Ice Goddess, they gained a lot of popularity, mostly among the young girls, who scread their nas.
With the arrival of the three top clans, everyone was waiting expectantly for the two dominant forces of the region.
The Radiant Sect and the Dust Valley Sect.
Just then, a hushed silence perated the air and everyone turned their heads to the entrance.
From the entrance, a stoic young man led a group of disciples toward the biggest pavilion.
Behind him, disciples wore solemn expressions, a strong aura emanating from their bodies, filled with killing intent.
Feeling the undisguised killing intent, everyone sucked in a cold breath. All the chatter vanished into thin air, but their eyes lingered on the new arrivals.
The Radiant Sect.
Each Radiant Sect disciple wore an expression as if they were going to war.
For the past few weeks, they had closed down their gates, but now, everyone realized things would not be as easy as they all thought.
Just as the pensive atmosphere reached its crescendo, another group arrived. Leading the group was a young, handso man.
His long silver hair danced happily with the gentle wind and his blue eyes were calm like a gentle lake. His golden robe, laced with red stripes, was captivating.
"The rumor is true..." a person said in a low voice.
"W-What rumor?"
"The Dust Valley Sect master’s son will lead this year’s tournant."
"Really? Where is he?"
"At the lead."
Quickly, the spectators’ attention shifted from the Radiant Sect disciples filled with strong killing intent to the Dust Valley Sect disciples.
Compared to the Radiant Sect, the Dust Valley Sect disciples brought in a fresh atmosphere and everywhere beca lively.
Various rumors about Mo Jian spread among the spectators.
Watching the spectators discuss the Dust Valley Sect with excited expressions, the Radiant Sect disciples’ expressions beca gloomy.
In addition, the disciples from the clans turned their attention to the Dust Valley Sect. The various captains from each clan had their gazes fixated on Mo Jian.
Many had heard of his exploits, but this was the first ti they were seeing him.
Seated casually on his seat, two beautiful female servants were serving him tea and fruits.
For a mont, everyone in the coliseum was stunned.
How could the Dust Valley Sect master have the nerve to eat and drink leisurely at such an important event?
Jing Wang wore a cold expression, clenching her knuckles under the various gazes.
She glared at Mo Jian hatefully but managed to control her impulse from reprimanding him.
Seated beside her, Peng Zhao did not have any change in his expression.
With his previous dealings with Mo Jian, he knew Mo Jian was quite different from them.
Zou i looked at him and gritted her teeth.
"Bastard!"
While the people were looking at Mo Jian, a young, beautiful woman ca to the center of the arena and looked at the thousand spectators with bright eyes.
"Ladies and gentlen. I’d like to remind you that our Thousand Wealth Chamber has a betting spot. Right now, you have the golden opportunity to earn a massive amount of spirit stones."
"Predict this year’s winner and win 1 million spirit stones. Don’t miss this rare chance."
Listening to her beautiful voice, the spectators were captivated.
Seeing this, Mo Jian took a sip from his tea and a smile crept up his lips.
How could he miss such a rare chance to earn a lot of spirit stones?
Looking at the girl’s departure, many people rushed out to place their bets. This was a rare chance for them to earn a lot of money.
"What a good thod of gaining attention," an elderly man muttered, looking in Mo Jian’s direction.
"This boy is not simple," another person added.
"Indeed, if this continues, it will only be a matter of ti before he controls the wealth of the western region."
How could the clan masters and powerful warriors not see what Mo Jian and the Thousand Wealth Chamber were trying to do?
Since he did not break any law, they chose to ignore his little trick.
As the mont arrived, three venerable old n took their positions at the judges’ area, casting their wise gazes down upon the eager contestants and the thrumming audience.
The head judge, with a voice that rumbled like distant thunder, declared, "Welco, everyone, to this year’s Western Region Tournant!" His words reverberated through the arena.
"You all know the rules. This old man would not repeat them."
"The first battle will be the mortal rank team battle. Let each captain co out to pick a tag."
Mo Jian stood up calmly and walked toward the stage. At the center stage, a black box was placed and each captain had to take a tag from it.
Dipping his hand into the box, Mo Jian took out a tag. Checking the number on the tag, he saw the number ’10’.
Without any change in his expression, he returned to his seat and threw the tag to the strongest disciple among the mortal rank.
"This is the first battle. Reserve your strength. Coordinate with your fellow disciples and you will win," he said casually and averted his gaze.
Everyone looked at him for a mont before they turned to look at Wang Jun. Nervously, Wang Jun held the tag tightly and responded.
"I’ll follow your instructions."
"Good. I hope you win beautifully. Don’t let lose face."
Listening to Mo Jian’s shaless words, they rolled their eyes and ignored him while they focused their attention on the judge.
"Let the tournant begin."
"First match. Number 10!"
Instantly, all eyes turned to the contestant area, waiting for the team with the number ten tag to co out.
Wang Jun’s hand trembled, his heart pounded heavily. Who would have expected they would be the first team to battle?
Taking a deep breath, he looked at his teammates and stood confidently.
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