Crimson Snow Sect's official dueling platform was packed to the brim with disciples, servants, and pavilion officials.
Even the most worn-out, creaking, and dirty bench had been snatched up. Some disciples were engaged in furious tugs of war, holding onto the seat they wanted for dear life.
Some disciples were engaged in animated debates, speculating on the chances of winning, losing, and possible strategies of each contestant. Some were busy spinning conspiracy theories involving figures whom they didn't even know.
The noise of the crowd was deafening. Adding to it the view of thousands of colorful uniforms gathered in one place, the scene was bound to leave an impression on whoever gazed upon it from a distance.
Because of the fog tides, this part of the sect hadn't received many visitors in the last few months. And the newly recruited disciples weren't particularly keen on dueling each other openly anyway.
