TOURNAMENT

  The last test was the test of skill.

They would pit the candidates against each other until they were left with 4 winners, one from each of the groups they were splitting the 100 candidates too.

You guys might know this by a more common term, a tournament arc.

The arena was buzzing with excitement as family members, friends, and interested individuals came to watch the biyearly tournament held by the Mount Hua Sect.

This was a spectacle that no one wanted to miss because it was free entertainment and it was the opportunity for you to cheer on someone you know (which leads to a lot of people crying when they see their family or friend getting their ass whooped).

The candidates waited in the crowd, their faces etched with this mixture of determination and nervousness.

A glass bowl of small balls that corresponded to the candidates' numbers was being mixed thoroughly.

"87! 63! 9!" One by one, the balls were pulled out until 25 of the candidates were called out by their numbers.

Those 25 numbers and candidates would form Group A and they were ordered to head to the arena platform at the far right.

Then they did the same for the next two groups which formed Group B and Group C, each of them also getting their own arena platform in the far left and the close right.

Group D, which was the group that I was in, was the last 25 people who didn't have their numbers pulled out since there was no need to. We got the platform on the close left.

The group you were in was the group you needed to conquer in order to come out on top. So it was really 4 separate tournaments and not one since the winners weren't made to fight each other.

I could hear many people sighing as they walked over to the arena platform for Group C.

"What is my luck? This is my last chance to get in the sect and I have to face Kan Hyojoo."

"Should I just give up now before she beats me to a fine powder?"

"Why me? Why her? Arghhhh."

"Please let her go easy on me. Please don't let me get her until the later rounds."

It seems like there was a girl in Group C called Kan Hyojoo who was the clear favorite to emerge from the group. I didn't recognize her name so she probably didn't result to become anything in the later parts of the story.

I wanted to hear and see what she had in store but I needed to focus on my own battles.

As we got to the arena platform, an instructor was there with another glass bowl. 

Because 25 is a weird number for a bracket tournament, there were some special rules.

The first round was single elimination where 24 candidates participate in a standard single-elimination bracket which leaves one person who haven't participated yet. That last person gets to face off against a lucky loser who gets the chance to regain a spot in the next round.

Then the second round, 12 candidates fight normally while 1 sits out and faces a lucky loser for the second round.

The third round was 6 candidates with 1 sitting out facing a lucky loser.

Then when the fourth round comes, it's just a regular 4 people tournament since the numbers worked now.

The fifth round was the final round with only 2 candidates remaining.

As the sun began its descent, the first battle of Group D was called up.

The instructor dug his hand into the bowl and announced, "Number 12... and number 57!"

The two contestants, each of them with a wooden tag on their waists, stepped forward. There was a rack of wooden weapons they could grab and use.

Number 12 grabbed a wooden sword while number 57 grabbed a spear.

After they bowed to each other, the instructor declared, "Fight!"

The two of them squared off while the other members of the group watched closely just in case one of them was going to be their opponent in the next round.

In the background, you could hear people watching in the stands cheering and screaming at the top of their lungs. They were basically watching children fight and found it fun.

The duel was fierce as #12 was a nimble short child while #57 was a large chunky boy who most definitely never missed a meal in his life. 

The crowd watched every swing, every dodge, and every strategy that the two children were devising on the fly.

In the end, only one could emerge victorious and despite #12's best efforts to use his speed to his advantage, #57 was just too powerful, and with one solid strike to the head, #12 was stunned and was unable to continue.

Most people were hoping to be the one person whose number wasn't called so that they could face off against a loser since a loser would be more tired and statistically would be part of the weaker half of the group.

I didn't want that because I wanted to get my name out there.

Three more battles concluded and it was my turn.

"Number 66... and number 97."

I got up and instead of picking a weapon, I chose to keep my bare hands.

"Are you sure that's a smart decision?" asked my opponent, #66 who looked like she bullied her younger siblings.

"Take your time... but hurry up," I said.

She clicked her tongue and grabbed two short swords.

After we bowed, she looked at me and said, "No wonder I felt like I recognized you. You're that farmer boy, right?"

She got into her stance, ready to pounce.

"I saw your face a while back when I was delivering my father his meal. He said that you have no parents. That must suck," she said, mocking me with this look on her face.

She was trying to agitate me but I'm not even the real Son Youngho so I could give zero fucks about the taunting.

"Don't worry. I'll make sure you reunite with them," she said.

"Fight!" the instructor screamed.

She lunged forward as I dodged the swing, I shot an oblique kick to her knee which caused it to hyperextend.

"Ahhhh!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. 

Before she could even regather herself, I shot another kick to her knee, causing it to break. 

There was no need to do more damage so I stepped back and bowed, claiming victory over the child who was on the ground screaming in pain. She had to be taken by the doctors who were assigned to the tournament.

As I walked back into the crowd, everyone looked at me with either fear, disgust, or anger as if they wanted to get revenge for the poor little girl.

'If she didn't want her knee to be broken then she should've been more careful.'

As the first round continued, the candidates began to speak as they had been watching people fighting for over half an hour.

Some battles could take over ten minutes to conclude because of how similar the two candidates were in combat prowess.

I didn't need someone to tell me to realize that I was being ignored.

Not that I cared.

I just sat there at the end of the crowd, waiting for my next turn.

"Look at that bastard. Dirty farmer boy," whispered someone in front of me.

"I can't wait to bash his head in. I hope I get him. I'll break both of his knees."

The idea of a child without a high level of gi beating me was so hilarious that I laughed to which they both glared at me.

"We'll see if you're laughing then."

I looked at the number on his wooden tag, 41.

As fate would have it when it was the second round, the second battle was between myself and #41.

"It seems like the gods are favoring me today," said #41 who was a giant child almost two meters tall. He grabbed a club.

'He looks like an ogre,' I thought to myself.

"Fight!"

With the club in one hand, he swung it downwards as if he were trying to squash my body into a pancake.

I stepped back just far enough to avoid the range.

The dude was extremely powerful because he was creating small holes and cracks on the platform every time the club hit the ground.

"You're not a child. You're a fat cow in the body of a human," I commented as I weaved, stepping into his range, then immediately striking his solar plexus with a fist.

"Kuhhh!" he coughed as he took a step back. He was too heavy and large for my attacks to have the same impact it would on another kid my size.

"You'll pay for that."

He dropped his club and tried to grab ahold of me.

It was a smart decision to use his weight to his advantage and wrestle.

But I knew how to counter every takedown he was trying on me because they were primitive.

With a bloody face and a broken nose, he attempted one last takedown on my legs. I gave him a solid knee to the face to put him to sleep.

"Winner! Number 97!" announced the instructor who gestured for another set of doctors to come take the person in front of me.

More fears were in the eyes of my fellow candidates as I rejoined the group.

In the third round, my opponent was #57 who was the one that wielded a spear.

He learned from my previous two opponents and kept his mouth shut.

We bowed and after the fight began, he remained where he was. It was clear that he was afraid of my techniques and that he chose to remain cautious and counter rather than push the tempo.

"If you won't push then I will," I said as I stepped forward.

He used his spear to keep me at a distance but eventually, he made a slight error and I sent him a kick.

He blocked it with the middle of his spear but I immediately jumped off the ground and spun my body in the air, kicking the spear with my other leg, sending it flying off his hands.

When I landed back on the ground, he was surprised but was already in a close combat stance with his clenched hands in front of him.

We exchanged a few blows but I was eventually able to catch him with something called a question mark kick.

I lifted my knee and pivoted my front foot, opening up my hips for the kick. He anticipated a body shot, positioning his arm to guard, but I swiftly redirected my leg. This time, the ball of my foot landed right on his exposed chin.

A question mark kick is like cracking a whip, deceiving your opponent about your target.

He was a chunky boy so he was only stunned but I hit him with four solid punches to the fast and he collapsed to the ground unconscious.

"Winner! Number 97!"

At this point, the audience was starting to come to my side after realizing that I was a hidden gem.

"97! 97! 97!" they cheered my number.

The remaining candidates looked at me as if I were a python ready to strike. They just prayed that they were the last prey and not the next one.