16 The tournament.

I woke early the next morning, to frantic knocking at my door. What the fuck. Let me fucking sleep.

But it didn't stop.

"God fucking damn it..." I slowly rose from the floor, stretching my arms and cracking my neck, before I strode over to the door. I didn't bother with fully dressing, though. If they wake me up before noon, they have to deal with me not being dressed.

I opened the door, and saw a disciple I haven't met yet.

"Great, you're home! We need your help, Chen Bao is hurt, bad!" The boy didn't even look at me, speaking quickly. All the while, he was constantly watching Chen Bao's dorm, nervously.

"What? Who the fuck would hurt him? Explain while we walk." I demanded answers as I stepped from my room. As I turned toward Bao's room, I grabbed my bag from next to the door. If he's hurt, I may have something to help.

"He got hurt this morning, bad. He got jumped by some random guys, I think. Fuck! It has to be that Xiao Han! He's definitely the type of bastard to rig a tournament." The boy was clearly upset, and I recognized the dire nature.

We arrived pretty quickly at Bao's room, and I was led inside. There were... Jesus, like forty people inside. Talk about a fan club. And in the corner of the room, Bao was cooped up in a thick blanket, on top of a bed.

He looked, well... It wasn't great. His chest was wrapped thick in bandage, dyed red. His left leg had a splint, and bandages just like his chest. Worst of all, he was completely missing his left arm, from the elbow down. Instead of bandages, I saw burns on it. It was gruesome to imagine the kind of fight he had to be in, to suffer this much. How many among the outer disciples could actually do something like this to him? Probably fewer than twenty, among the thousands of disciples. I decided to figure this out.

"Chen Bao. You awake?" A small thumbs-up was my answer. "You just gonna sit there and wallow in misery? Or do you want a bit of revenge?" My words carried thick weight, as a bit of my aura leaked forward. Most of the room took a step back, but Chen Bao sat himself up.

"Yeah? What do you suppose I do? One of our venerable elder brothers is backing that scumbag, to ensure he wins the ranking. Once he's first among this region, he'll be free to enter the main ranking tournament. From there, it doesn't even matter. They all get recognition, just for making it."

"Simple. We make sure he doesn't win today. I'll enter. I'm pretty confident in my Sutra." I spoke confidently, swinging and striking my chest with my fist to prove a point. After all, what would be the point of practicing a lethal and forbidden art, if it could lose out to just anything?

Chen Bao was not too sure, at first, before he got a clear look at me again. He considered, before speaking again.

"If you can activate that talent of yours, and with that Sutra... You could definitely manage to reach the final round. Though... Whether you can beat Xiao Han, that's different."

I gave him a cocky smile, before I summoned the Masseter into my hand. Its immense form appeared through thin air, before its great weight carried the end of the club into the floor with a weighty crash. I was happy, as Bao let his jaw drop. I knew I had a solid chance of winning, no doubt about that. With that, I left for the Cultivation Tower.

...

Damn, word travels fast. I just declared my intent to beat Xiao Han's face in, and already I've got trouble.

Around me, four men. Three of them were outer disciples, though I was rather shocked to notice the presence of an inner disciple at the back of the group. No wonder Chen Bao got so beat down. Well, time to have some fun...

"So, I'm gonna guess y'all are here to try and start some shit, yeah? Bring it the fuck on, then."

I gave a smirk, as I simply lifted my arms to accept any attack. Surprisingly, the inner disciple stepped forward, bringing a dagger up to gut me. Moments before he made contact, however, a thick hand grabbed hold of his offending arm.

Bingo, that would be my trump card.

"Adam, you're far more clever than I'll give you credit for."

A familiar voice filled my ears, as a tall black man was now holding the arm of the inner disciple.

"Hey Micheal. Was really more of a bet on the intelligence of the sect patriarch. Figured I'd be fine."

I smiled again, stepping past my would-be assailants, and watching as they all stared in horror at Micheal. Damn, that could've been bad, if I wasn't right. Glad I hedged my bets on the sect keeping eyes on me.

"Adam, you get going. I'll handle these idiots." Micheal called out, as a frankly obscene amount of Mortal Energy surged out, cowing the assailants as I left. Honestly, I feel kinda bad for them. Micheal doesn't seem like the kind of guy you want on someone else's side.

...

Finally, I was in front of the Challenger Arena. I had reached the Cultivation Tower, and from there I headed for the arena. Really, it wasn't too difficult to find. A big fuck-off Roman style colosseum right in the heart of the commercial district.

All around, I saw dozens upon hundreds of people, weapons everywhere, and just a staggering number of animals. Tigers, leopards, a freaking rhino, and I swear I saw a unicorn somewhere. The place is packed with 'em. But now, most of the people were gathering into a handful of lines. Looking toward the front, I saw a simple sign labeled "Ranking Tournament Qualifiers - Registration."

Hm. That's probably where I need to go. I got into line, and felt Tat appear on my shoulder. Guess he got anxious, with all these bigger beasts around. I felt a bit of his emotions telling me he was also eager, like he was ready to prove himself. Heh. Guess he's taking after me.

I waited around for what felt like forever, before I finally got to the front.

"Name, Realm, Stage, and any pets you would like to involve." The lady behind the desk spoke bluntly, and I realized I should speak quickly.

"Adam, Body Refinement Stage 8, registering with my pets Ratatoskr, and Omukade."

I could almost feel the woman roll her eyes, as if to tell me "There's no chance a punk can win this relying just on pets." But then, she actually looked at me. And I swear I saw a hint of a blush. Then, she spoke up.

"Alright, Mr. Adam, you're all registered. Your number in the tournament is 739. Please remember it." She simply lifted a small copper plate, with those numbers etched into it. However, her eyes never moved from me, as if she was in a trance.

Taking the small plate, I turned and left. Finally, I entered into the colosseum.