The stage for our first match lay in a wide, bowl-shaped hollow to the north of the Broken Spear Outpost. During most of the year, this place was submerged beneath a cold, clear lake, with terraces of water herbs swaying just beneath its surface. During the tournament, however, this lake was drained and its terraces repurposed to hold thousands of spectators.

Our opponents in this round were Blessed Spear Sect, a team of five young Disciples who had all been raised in one of the nearby Seven-Star Sects. This made them extremely dangerous. Since the Bureau had allowed this group to form a First-Class Sect, their original sects couldn’t have taught them anything about cultivation, but they had likely been training with weapons since the moment they could stand.

The moment we arrived; Kan stepped onto the stage to negotiate the rules with the Blessed Spear Sect’s leader. Unlike most tournaments, the Bureau had only told us who we were competing against—how we competed was entirely up to us. If both sides agreed to turn this into an alchemy contest, the Bureau’s representative would just shrug and mark it down in his ledger. Considering our opponents, though, I doubted things would be so simple.

While these two spoke, I let my gaze wander across the terraces. To our right, ten black-robed cultivators stood in a perfect line, watching us with expressionless, predatory eyes. To our left, farther up the slope, a team in pale blue chatted happily, acting as if this tournament had nothing to do with them. A quick check in energy vision proved that both groups were extremely dangerous, but they were a problem for the future. For now, we needed to focus on the threat in front of us.

“One-on-one fights,” said Kan, returning to our side. “First team to three wins takes the match.”

I nodded and glanced at JiuLi. “Are you ready?”

She took a deep breath to steady herself. “Yes.”

Then, she stepped onto the wooden stage, guandao resting lightly against her shoulder, as her eyes locked onto her opponent—a young woman with short, black hair and an elongated spear held in a relaxed grip.

The spearwoman advanced with light steps, her spear tucked close to her arm, and probed JiuLi with short, darting thrusts. The point of her weapon moved like a silver viper, flicking out and retreating with no wasted motion.

JiuLi didn’t give ground. She met each thrust with the flat of her guandao’s blade, redirecting the attacks with short, economical parries. The heavy polearm was made for sweeping arcs and decisive blows, but she kept her movements tight, using the weapon’s weight to knock the spearhead aside.

As steel rang and wood shuddered, the difference between the two combatants was undeniable. JiuLi moved with precision, every step reflecting the hours of practice that YuLong and I had forced into her. The spearwoman, however, moved with an effortless grace that came from a lifetime of practice.

At a critical moment, JiuLi’s cut lingered a fraction too long, which was all the spearwoman needed.

She lunged into the opening, infused her spear with qi, then snapped it forward. The weapon launched toward JiuLi’s ribs with such force that it nearly tore itself free from its wielder’s hands.

JiuLi reacted on instinct, pulling all the wood qi from her arms and shoving it into the haft of her guandao.

The polearm writhed in JiuLi’s hands, its grain twisting as if alive. Then, the butt of the weapon snapped sideways, batting the spear aside. This was immediately followed by the weapon’s crescent blade whipping around and slashing at the spearwoman’s face like the fang of an angry cobra.

The spearwoman jerked back, boots scraping across the wooden stage as she barely avoided JiuLi’s strike.

Steadying herself, the spearwoman looked at JiuLi with surprise. Then, delight. A heartbeat later, she threw herself forward, plunging back into the fight.

The spearwoman held an advantage in skill and combat experience, but JiuLi’s advantage lay in her qi control. Wherever that viper-quick spear darted, the guandao’s crescent head was there to greet it, a patient cobra waiting with fangs bared. No matter how many exchanges she redirected, though, JiuLi wasn’t able to close the distance and land a decisive blow.

Minutes passed, and both women’s energy reserves began to run low. JiuLi, however, held the upper hand. The spearwoman scattered qi with every strike, flaring power in all directions with little to show for it. JiuLi, meanwhile, kept her energy tightly controlled, using only as much as was needed with each attack.

Sensing her impending defeat, the spearwoman leapt backward, opening up the distance between her and JiuLi. Then, she let out a hearty laugh. “I didn’t want to use this, but you’ve left me with no other choice.”

Not wanting to give her opponent time to prepare, JiuLi charged forward, but the spearwoman’s weapon had already started glowing a faint blue, reminding me of one of the children that I had faced during my time in the Su Clan.

The spear flashed, its tip streaking toward JiuLi’s throat.

JiuLi reacted instinctively, guandao sweeping up to parry.

The spearwoman shifted, angling her weapon away from JiuLi and straight toward the guandao’s crescent blade.

When the two collided, the blade of JiuLi’s weapon shattered, shards scattering across the stage.

JiuLi froze, suddenly holding nothing but a wooden pole. In that heartbeat of shock, the spearwoman glided forward and pressed the edge of her spear against JiuLi’s neck.

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“I concede.” The words left JiuLi’s mouth before she had time to process what had just happened.

The spearwoman withdrew her weapon, spun it once, and slung it across her back. Then, she cupped her fists and bowed. “Thank you for letting me win.”

JiuLi slowly returned this gesture, gathered the pieces of her broken weapon, and stepped off the stage.

I stared in disbelief. That strike hadn’t just shattered wood and steel. It had obliterated the piece of JiuLi’s soul that was embedded within her weapon. What had that spearwoman done? It had to be a blessing, but what?

Channeling a thread of qi and soul power, I connected to an avatar in my inner world. “System, how much to copy that spearwoman’s blessing?”

Artistic Conception of Spear: 5%. Cost 100 shards.

An immortal-level attack. If that price was to be believed, it wasn’t an overly strong one, but it was still beyond the bounds of anything that we could possibly defend against.

Once JiuLi and her opponent had both left the stage, another woman stepped forward—an exact replica of the spearwoman from the previous match, right down to the weapon in her hands.

I felt a sinking feeling in my gut and turned to Meng LuYao. “If this woman has that same glowing attack, be extremely careful. You won’t be able to defend against it.”

Meng LuYao nodded, lips curving in a faint smile. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”

Having studied the previous match closely, Meng LuYao didn’t even try to close the distance. The moment the Bureau’s representative signaled the start of the match, she activated a movement technique and started tracing wide, fluid circles around the arena, staying well outside of her opponent’s range.

As she moved, Meng LuYao used a thin strand of wood qi to extract a dozen needle-thin splinters from the haft of her weapon. Then, after imbuing each one with guandao qi, she flicked these splinters toward her opponent.

An experienced combatant, the spearwoman dodged, avoiding most of the splinters while using her spear to deflect the rest. However, while she was able to protect her vitals, a few splinters found purchase on her arms and legs.

When Meng LuYao repeated this attack, she jerked on the splinters that were already embedded in the spearwoman’s body. The tug disrupted her dodge, and several more splinters found their mark.

The spearwoman tried to fight back by sending out blasts of qi, but her lack of control made these attacks easy to dodge or bat aside. Eventually, with over three dozen splinters firmly lodged within her flesh, she was forced to concede. “Thank you for the match.”

Meng LuYao gave a polite bow, then returned to my side, smiling.

The third bout pitted Kan against the leader of the Blessed Spear Sect. As with JiuLi’s match, they began by testing lines and rhythm. Kan worked his oversized, saber-like guandao in broad, sweeping arcs. The spearman answered with light, precise probes, testing for openings with short thrusts and quick recoveries.

After about half a minute of this, Kan flipped the tempo. He surged forward like a bull, blade howling down, threatening to slice his opponent in two.

A mild look of surprise flashed across the spearman’s face, but the man wasn’t there when the stroke landed. He had already let his body fall backward, as if surrendering to gravity.

Kan’s cut whistled through empty air. Then, with no visible bracing or muscle check, his opponent’s direction reversed mid-descent, falling forward instead, body reorienting around some invisible axis as his spear snapped out for Kan’s midsection.

If he had cultivated another type of energy, Kan might have been able to reinforce his muscles in a way where he could block this attack. Guandao qi, however, was like a river. It wanted to flow. Rather than fight the current, Kan leaned into this, flowing to his right along with his blade.

When the spear arrived, it tore a deep furrow into Kan’s left bicep, but that could be healed once the match was over. Kan kept his focus on achieving victory.

Both fighters reset their stances. Then, the spearman bounded in, the tip of his weapon flickering with qi in the midday sun.

Kan slashed out, intending to parry this attack, but the man’s momentum shifted midair, causing him to veer off to Kan’s left. He landed on his right foot, pivoted cleanly, and lunged, the point scoring another line across Kan’s already-bloodied arm.

Kan’s glare was ice. “So, is that your blessing, then? Momentum redirection? Fine.”

He planted his feet, exhaled, and drove forward. The spearman’s gaze sharpened as he readied himself to meet the charge. Then, he slipped to the side at the last instant, body yawing to Kan’s right as if the stage had tilted beneath him. The spearhead darted—

Kan detonated a crackling pulse.

Lightning leapt off him in a netted ripple that spidered along the spearman’s limbs, his muscles locking for a single, stolen heartbeat.

That was all Kan needed. His saber-like guandao completed its flowing arc and came around, the spine kissing cloth before the edge settled flat and firm across the man’s midsection.

The spearman should have been able to use his blessing to ensure this attack wasn’t fatal, but this wasn’t a fight to the death, so he chose to accept defeat.

For the fourth bout, YuLong stepped onto the stage to confront a man who was nearly his equal in both size and muscle mass. Unlike his teammates, this man didn’t carry a spear—he carried three.

The moment the Bureau’s representative gave the signal to begin, the warrior flicked his wrists and tossed two of his spears into the air, where they hung suspended on invisible threads. Perfectly still, perfectly balanced.

As a murmur rippled through the spectators, YuLong cautiously advanced.

The floating spears moved first. They shot forward in a crossing formation, forming a perfect X that barred YuLong’s path. An instant later, the warrior lunged from behind them, driving his third spear toward YuLong’s chest.

He deflected this strike with a controlled sweep of his blade, only for one of the floating weapons to whip around behind him and slice at his left leg. YuLong twisted his knee to avoid this attack, but the blade grazed him, nicking skin and cloth.

YuLong hissed in irritation. Then, he pressed forward again.

The pattern repeated: the two floating spears blocked him, the warrior attacked, then one of the floating spears struck while he was distracted.

YuLong stepped back and exhaled, his expression calm. “You can only control one weapon at a time, right? Two, I guess, as long as they’re doing the same thing. You’ll need to work on that. I doubt it’s a limitation of your blessing. You should see if cultivating your soul helps.”

The spearman stared at him, eyes wide. “What—how did you—”

YuLong sighed, lifting a hand in a small, dismissive wave. “Sorry. Not the time.”

Then he moved. His body flickered forward, faster than the floating spears could counter. He slid past the crossing block, slipped inside the spearman’s range, and shattered the warrior’s guard with a single, decisive slap from the side of his blade. A heartbeat later, YuLong’s blade rested against the man's neck.

“It’s a good blessing, but it’s going to take you a long time to master it.”

The spearman swallowed, then lowered his spear. “I concede.”

The crowd roared as YuLong returned to our side, our first victory secured.