57th of Season of Water, 58th year of the 32nd cycle

  The core disciple trial was taking place in an arena. Newt had no idea the Explorer’s Gate had an arena. When viewed from the street, the Chamber of Instruction’s main building completely obscures the giant structure.

  Beyond the initial investigation into sect rules and what various divisions did, Newt paid little attention to the workings of Explorer’s Gate. So, the fact that the sect had an arena for life and death battles came as a surprise even as he entered it.

  The colosseum-like structure could seat tens of thousands, with separate sections based on the viewer status. Newt sat in the participants’ section, which had sixteen hundred seats, listening to the venerable in charge of the Chamber of Instruction explaining the rules of the tournament. The vast majority of sixteen hundred seats were empty, with only twenty-nine inner disciples confident enough to take the trial.

  “The arena below is divided into nine sections.” The elderly woman gestured towards the nine elevated circular rings on the arena floor. “Each of you may claim an empty section for yourself, if the section is occupied, you may challenge the current owner for ownership. The owner may accept the duel or forfeit without fighting. In the former case, the winner may rest an hour before receiving another challenge. In case of surrender without fighting, others may immediately challenge the new owner.”

  The woman turned around to face the participants, her face the blank mask of indifference.

  “I know most of you have entered the trial because you wish to gain experience, and this really is a rare opportunity to use this facility. Thus, I must commend your bravery. For those of you who don’t know, the fights are to the death. The arena’s spell formations will keep you safe, while inflicting pain as if you are suffering real wounds.”

  She paused.

  “Pain of death can instill fear in your hearts. It may birth heart demons, ones difficult or impossible to resolve. Please consider carefully whether you truly need to participate in this event to corroborate your martial skills. Remember, there are simpler, safer methods of confirming your strength. If you have changed your mind, please leave.”

  She waited a minute, but nobody left. The unsurprised venerable sighed and continued.

  “While the rules don’t forbid torture, such cruelty between disciples has never happened in all the thousands of years since our sect’s founding. If someone refuses to give up, grant them a swift end and be aware that in tournaments against our rivals, the victors might not be so kind and judges might be bought.

  “Regardless of who wins or how, any given pair of disciples can only fight once. Each future challenge is automatically resolved with the same result. If a loop of three or more winners forms, they fight again in a free-for-all until all the vacancies are filled. Ganging up is allowed in this case. Remember, if you don’t want to risk defeat, all you have to do is win.”

  The venerable scanned the twenty-nine faces before her. “Any questions?”

  Nobody said a word or moved a muscle.

  “Once we have nine contestants left standing, they will repeat the process with three spots remaining. Good luck and pace yourselves, this tournament may last up to two days, and stamina is just as important as strength.”

  With those motivational words, the venerable waved her hand and the gate leading down opened. Newt and several others headed for the nearest ring, but when they saw him, his fellow disciples changed direction, picking easier targets.

  After climbing five steps into the ring, Newt bade a good day to the fourth realm outer elder, who had taken on the role of a judge, and waited for a challenger. Goodair waved as she walked past his ring, but had no intention of challenging him.

  The rest followed her lead, ignoring him in favor of seven other rings in which duels were starting. Newt watched the matches, much more brutal than those taking place in the training field.

  Disciples went all out, stabbing, hacking, and slashing. People fell, gritting their teeth in agony as they experienced the pain of losing limbs or dying. A chubby youth wielding a massive hammer had the most terrified victim. He had smashed a young woman’s torso, and based on all the writhing, he must have dealt massive damage.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  The audience cheered their favorites, with several of the laborers and outer disciples exchanging pieces of paper. Bets, Newt guessed.

  The seventh match ended, the final judge called the match, and the disciples on the ground started shuffling, some congratulating the winners, others consoling the losers. With seven winners and seven losers, only fifteen disciples had not fought, and two of those stood on their platforms unchallenged.

  Newt glanced towards the familiar face. He had seen the young man on the training field almost every time he went there for lessons. Goodair gave Newt a name to go with the face, Twochains. A strong contender and a former core disciple, who had flunked out several years prior, failing to keep his spot during the tryouts.

  Their eyes met, and after hesitating a bit Newt waved. The six-foot-three blonde nodded, his face stoic. Suddenly, he frowned, then jumped off his platform uncontested and headed towards Newt.

  “My master told me not to fight you in the training yard, but we’re no longer in the training yard, and I’d like to give it a shot.”

  “Um, hi!” Newt’s smile was awkward. Twochains could have at least started with a greeting. “Yes, sure, I’d love to spar with you. My senior sister told me you were the strongest third realm inner disciple.”

  Twochains smirked. “What a coincidence, my master said the same thing about you.”

  Newt glanced at his weapon, a vicious kusarigama with a barbed weight and a crescent blade hand guard on the kama. Red aura flickered and caressed the blonde disciple’s body, revealing fire as his element to Newt’s third eye.

  “Begin,” the judge said before Newt could further analyze his opponent. The barbed ball and the kama whirled through the air, Twochains rushing towards Newt, flaring with spiritual energy.

  Newt lowered his spear, Granite Crust and Magmin Scales covering his skin. Twochains dodged left, but Newt’s spear followed. Then the more experienced cultivator shot a fireball right into Newt’s face.

  The projectile struck true, but Magmin Scales burned the heat into nothing. While dealing no damage, the bolt of flame blinded Newt’s three eyes. Newt’s right flank flared with danger, and he jumped left, unleashing a surprise of his own. With a flicker of spiritual energy and a strand of will, he released a bright flash and a deafening blast.

  “A known trick,” Twochains said, unfazed by the maneuver.

  Newt opened his eyes and dodged under the spiked ball aimed at his temple.

  I sensed no danger. It was a feint!

  Newt jumped away just as he sensed danger, and the kama smashed into the ground where he had stood an instant ago, unleashing a fiery explosion.

  He spun, slamming the butt of his spear at his opponent, but Twochains twisted and instead of catching him in the jaw, Newt’s spear smacked him on the shoulder.

  While the blow was not good enough to incapacitate Twochains outright, the spell formation registered it as a dislocated or a broken shoulder, and the man’s movement faltered. Newt went on the offense, but Twochains relied on superior experience to dodge and launch counterattacks.

  Propelled by a burst of flame, the spiked ball darted straight at Newt’s nose. The sense of danger failed to detect the attack in time, and all Newt could do was tilt his head. The movement was minimal, the time impossibly insufficient for a proper dodge, and the spiked ball struck Newt on the temple.

  Two layers of Granite Crust shattered, but Magmin Scales thankfully extinguished the heat as Newt staggered back.

  Twochains pounced, trying to capitalize on his advantage, but Newt’s dizzy spell ended, and his spear moved like a serpent. Twochains jumped, but the blade bit his leg, slashing against his calf. The spell formation registered yet another wound, and the older cultivator’s speed radically dropped.

  Newt stabbed at him, but Twochains threw his body back with a fiery blast in front of his torso. Like Newt’s Fireburst, the technique was jerky when used for sudden movements, much better utilized the way Elder Flameax had taught Newt.

  With another burst of flame, Twochains jerked to a halt, stopping himself before going over the ring’s edge.

  “Well fought, I surrender.”

  Huh? He surrendered?

  “The winner is Newstar Blazing Salamander!” the referee proclaimed, while the crowd cheered and applauded at the flashiest and most exciting match so far.

  “You’re almost as fast as an airhead.” Twochains cupped his fist. “You pack the punch like a proper hothead, and can take hits like a rockhead. I was certain the blow to the head would take you out.”

  Newt knew what Twochains was talking about. Had his body been weaker, the strike to the head would have certainly knocked him out.

  “Great fight, you’re much more skilled than I am,” Newt returned the compliment and the polite gesture. “There’s a whole lot I could learn from sparring with you.”

  Twochains nodded. “Me too, but the only place for proper fights is this arena, the training yard isn’t as forgiving and doesn’t let you go all out.”

  The two exchanged a few more pleasantries before Twochains headed for his ring, leaving Newt to consider what had happened during the fight, and how far he can punch up with a superior weapon skill and more extensive combat training.