The Top Eight

After the tumultuous selection fight, Xianwu Yongsheng, Jianyu Zhen, and Feng Mo regrouped, nursing the wounds inflicted during the melee. Feng Mo's wrist hung at an awkward angle, a testament to the brutality of the conflict. Without hesitation, Xianwu retrieved a small, jade-green pill from his robe and handed it to Feng Mo.

"Take this, Feng. It'll help with the pain and speed up the healing," Xianwu said, his voice laced with concern.

Feng Mo looked at the pill and then at Xianwu, gratitude in his eyes. "Thanks, I owe you one," he said before swallowing the medicine.

Turning his attention to his own injury, Xianwu closed his eyes, concentrating on the internal techniques he'd mastered in his past life. Channeling his qi, he directed it towards the gash on his arm, the energy knitting the wound together, closing it as if by magic.

As the disciples and the crowd awaited the announcement of the results, Elder Huang Zheng, a revered figure within the sect, with white hair like the summit snow of Murim's highest mountains and traditional robes signifying his status, stepped forward. His voice, strong and clear, carried across the arena. "Disciples, the selection is complete. The eight who remain have shown great prowess and will proceed to the league. The first match will be between Xianwu Yongsheng and Zhang Jie," an ally of Liang Wei, "Remember, all forms of combat are permitted, but the life of your opponent is to be spared."

Jianyu and Feng Mo, now slightly eased by the pill's effect, turned to Xianwu with concern. "Are you sure you're up for this, Xianwu? You were just injured," Jianyu asked, worry creasing his brow.

Xianwu smiled, a hint of determination in his gaze. "I'll be fine. It's going to take more than a scratch to hold me back."

Feng Mo nodded, though the concern never fully left his eyes. "Just... be careful, okay?"

Xianwu's mind, however, was occupied with a different thought. Why was the selection fight more challenging than I remembered? Something's changed since my last life here. He shelved the question for later contemplation; the immediate task demanded his full attention.

As Xianwu stepped into the ring, his opponent, Zhang Jie, with sharp features often twisted into a sly smile and short, dark hair giving him a tidy appearance, mirrored his actions. The air was thick with anticipation, the crowd's excitement palpable.

The gong sounded, marking the commencement of the duel. Xianwu wasted no time; he sprinted towards Zhang Jie, his movements a blend of grace and lethal precision. Zhang Jie managed to block the initial strikes, but the force behind Xianwu's blows steadily pushed him back.

"You'll have to do better than that!" Zhang Jie taunted, attempting to counterattack.

Xianwu, undeterred, dodged smoothly, his counter a blur that Zhang Jie could barely perceive. "It's not about doing better," Xianwu replied calmly. "It's about ending this quickly."

The onlookers watched, mesmerized as Xianwu's assault became a spectacle of martial prowess. Despite Zhang Jie's efforts to mount a defense, the imbalance in their skills was evident. With a final, powerful push, Xianwu executed a series of strikes that left Zhang Jie staggering, unable to find his footing.

Seizing the moment, Xianwu delivered a controlled yet forceful blow that sent Zhang Jie tumbling out of the ring, the definitive end to the match.

Silence fell for a heartbeat before the crowd erupted into cheers, the spectacle of the fight thrilling them. Elder Huang Zheng, maintaining his composure amidst the excitement, officially declared Xianwu the victor.

Jianyu and Feng Mo leaped to their feet, cheering loudly for their friend. Lan Hua, who had been observing from the sidelines, offered Xianwu a nod of approval, a silent acknowledgment of his skill and restraint.

Xianwu, his chest heaving from exertion, returned the gesture with a respectful bow. The victory was satisfying, but he knew this was just the beginning.

As the arena prepared for the next match, Jianyu versus Han Bo, Xianwu joined his friends, their expressions a mix of elation and nerves.

"You were amazing out there, Xianwu," Feng Mo said, clapping him on the back.

Xianwu grinned, "Thanks, but now it's Jianyu's turn. Remember what we practiced. You've got this."

Jianyu nodded, the excitement and pressure of the upcoming fight evident in his stance. "It's my time to shine. Han Bo won't know what hit him."

As the gong resonated through the arena, signaling the commencement of the next bout, Elder Huang Zheng's authoritative voice declared the match between Jianyu and Han Bo officially open. The air hummed with anticipation as the two competitors bowed to each other, a gesture of mutual respect amidst the competitive fervor.

Han Bo, with a composed demeanor, gestured to Jianyu. "I'll let you make the first move," he offered, a serene confidence in his eyes.

Jianyu, undeterred by the gesture, replied with a determined smirk, "I hope you won't regret that."

The duel began with Jianyu taking the initiative, launching a series of swift strikes aimed at finding any weakness in Han Bo's defense. Each attack was executed with precision, reflecting Jianyu's skilled martial prowess. Han Bo, however, remained a formidable opponent. His cultivation base, a notch above Jianyu's, allowed him to absorb and deflect the oncoming assaults with a calm that belied the intensity of the moment.

The crowd watched, engrossed as the two fighters exchanged blows, their movements a blur of power and agility. Jianyu managed to land a few impactful strikes, drawing cheers from the spectators, but Han Bo's superior cultivation became increasingly evident. With each exchange, he demonstrated his ability to anticipate and counter Jianyu's tactics, his own strikes finding their mark with an efficiency that slowly tipped the balance in his favor.

Despite Jianyu's valiant efforts, Han Bo's relentless pressure eventually overwhelmed him. In a decisive moment, Han Bo executed a perfectly timed counterattack that sent Jianyu staggering back, unable to continue.

As the match concluded, both disciples bowed to each other once again, their mutual respect undiminished by the outcome. Jianyu, though defeated, had shown the heart of a true martial artist, earning him applause from the audience and an approving nod from Elder Huang Zheng.

Feng Mo rushed to Jianyu's side, clapping him on the shoulder with an encouraging grin. "You were amazing out there. Don't let this get you down; you've done us all proud," he said, his words bolstering Jianyu's spirits.

Xianwu, who had been watching the match with a thoughtful expression, was pulled from his contemplations by Elder Huang Zheng's announcement of the next match: Liang Wei against Lin Mei. His mind, however, lingered on the peculiarities of this life's tournament. The selection had been undeniably more challenging than he remembered, a discrepancy that gnawed at him. What has changed? he pondered, his gaze shifting to Liang Wei as the disciple stepped into the arena, his presence commanding attention.

The questions about the tournament's unexpected difficulty swirled in Xianwu's mind, but they would have to wait. Now, his focus turned to Liang Wei's match, a keen interest in his eyes. Observing Liang Wei's performance might offer clues, not only about the disciple's own capabilities and intentions but perhaps also about the broader shifts that had occurred since Xianwu's last life.