Gen finally set the broom against the stable wall. The flow he'd felt earlier had settled into a quiet hum in his limbs, a pleasant fatigue that was nothing like the hollow ache of his injury. He decided he'd had enough of dung and straw for one day.
Walking back through the mountain complex, he noticed the unusual quiet. The covered walkways, usually dotted with disciples moving to and from late lectures or private practice, were empty. The silence wasn't peaceful; it was a held breath.
Puzzled, he changed course for the main training arena—the wide open space usually filled with disciples. It too was deserted, save for a single junior disciple hurrying away with a worried glance over their shoulder.
"Hey!" Gen called out, but the disciple only walked faster, vanishing around a corner.
A familiar figure appeared at the far end of the path, half-jogging. Liang. He spotted Gen and his tense expression shifted to one of relief. "There you are! I've been looking for you everywhere."
Gen met him halfway. "What's going on? The place is a tomb."
"Challengers," Liang said, slightly breathless. "From another school. They arrived an hour ago."
Gen's eyebrows shot up. A spark, the old competitive fire, kindled in his chest. "Challengers? Here? Why aren't we in the main arena?"
"I don't know. But it feels… deliberate. Dangerous."
"Where are they, then?"
"The Mortal Arena."
Gen frowned. He knew the place. It was older, larger, built into a lower terrace of the mountain. It wasn't used for daily training, but for the rare, more formal—and often more brutal—inter-school matches. Its stone was permanently stained with dark, unfriendly marks. "Lead the way."
The air changed as they descended. The serene mountain hum was replaced by a thick, charged silence, broken by the low murmur of a crowd. The Mortal Arena was a wide, sunken circle of ancient, pitted stone, surrounded by steep, tiered steps for spectators.
Two distinct groups faced each other across the arena floor like rival armies. On one side, the grey and green of the Jade Palace. Gen spotted Kaito, standing like a rooted pillar at the front. Beside him, Li Fen's posture was poised but tight. Further along, Yun watched with his usual analytical calm, while Yuan's face was a mask of simmering fury. The expressions of the other disciples ranged from nervous to grimly determined.
Opposite them stood the visitors. Their robes were a deep, venomous green trimmed with silver, resembling coiled serpents. The men wore arrogant smirks; the women were hauntingly beautiful, but their auras felt like polished ice—smooth, cold, and cutting. At their head stood a man of middle years, his features placid, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. He exuded a serene, unshakable confidence that seemed to leach the certainty from the air around him.
Gen and Liang slipped into the back of the Jade Palace group. Li Fen glanced back, a flicker of relief in her eyes.
"What's the situation?" Gen whispered.
"Silver Serpent Academy," Li Fen murmured, not taking her eyes off the visitors. "From the Bliss Palace region. They came for a 'demonstration.'"
At the name 'Bliss Palace,' Gen's hands clenched into fists at his sides. The memory of Jun's fanatical eyes and corrupted lightning was still raw. "So they're the local thugs. Fine. Why the long faces? We'll just crush them and send them back."
Liang nodded, his jaw set. "Our disciples aren't weak."
From a few feet away, Yuan snorted, not bothering to look at them. "We will crush them," he said, emphasizing the word. "The rest of you will watch."
On the arena floor, Elder Mei faced the serene man. Their discourse was polite, the words carefully chosen, but the subtext was a duel of its own.
"...an honor to finally visit the renowned Jade Palace," the Serpent elder was saying, his smile benign. "One hears so much of its… enduring traditions."
"We are always pleased to host distinguished guests," Elder Mei replied, her voice cool. Her own aura was a contained tempest, pressing subtly against the man's calm. "Though it is rare for the Silver Serpent to travel so far from its nest. You've found the courage to step out of your hole, now that the sun has set on the mountain?"
The barb about Jiang's death was deliberate. The Serpent elder didn't flinch; his smile merely deepened, becoming patronizing. "The world turns, Elder Mei. New lights rise. It is important for the young to test themselves against different styles, to see what they lack." His gaze drifted past her, lingering appraisingly on Li Fen and the other female disciples.
Elder Mei's eyes narrowed. "We agree on the value of testing. State your business."
"Of course. My disciples are eager. But a simple one-on-one seems… quaint. The world is not a series of orderly duels." He spread his hands. "We propose a group engagement. A test of adaptability, teamwork, and chaos management. Five of ours, against five of yours."
A ripple of surprise and anger went through the Jade Palace disciples. Murmurs rose.
"Scared to fight one-on-one?" a hot-headed disciple shouted from the ranks.
One of the Serpent youths, a young man with silver-dusted hair, answered without raising his voice. "Real cultivators fight whether it rains or shines, in a line or a mob. Will you fight? Or are you only brave in a cage?"
The challenge hung in the thick air.
Gen turned to Liang and Li Fen, his frustration a physical ache. He couldn't even reinforce his own skin. "Be careful," he ground out, the words tasting like ash. "Their confidence isn't just bluster."
Li Fen gave a tight nod. "We will."
"Don't worry about us," Liang said, though his eyes were fixed on the arrogant Serpent disciples with deep unease.
Gen could only stand there, relegated to the back line, a spectator in his own home. The powerlessness was a cage worse than any stable pen.
***
Far from the tense arena, in the quiet, shadow-dappled Herb Hall, Elder Kwan moved with silent purpose. The hall was deserted; all attention was on the spectacle below.
He went not to the common shelves, but to a locked, warded cabinet meant for elders only. With a practiced motion, he dispelled the seal—a secret he shouldn't have known. Inside, in a crystal vial, was a fine, iridescent powder. The processed pollen of the **Sleeping Deity Blossom**.
He held the vial up to the light, a cruel smile touching his thin lips. "Such a gentle sleep," he whispered to himself. "And so permanent, without its thistle." His plan was elegantly vicious. Not a direct attack, but a subtle sabotage. A cloud of this released at the right moment during the group fight… the Jade Palace disciples would simply fall asleep mid-battle. A humiliating, non-lethal but utterly devastating defeat. Proof of their weakness, their lack of preparedness. And with the blame likely falling on the Bliss Palace's notorious tactics, his own hands would be clean.
He slipped the vial into his sleeve. As he turned to leave, his foot brushed against something soft behind a heavy table. He looked down.
It was the body of Disciple Lian, the missing girl. Her twilight-grey robes were darkened with dried blood, her eyes wide and empty. She was curled as if asleep, the second-ranked disciple of the Jade Palace, now just a spoil.
Kwan stared for a moment, his expression unreadable. He shook his head with a faint sigh, not of remorse, but of aesthetic disappointment. "What a waste," he murmured, his voice low. "To spoil such a promising vessel. If you hadn't been so curiously observant in the herb garden…" He crouched, and with a gesture too intimate and grotesque, he brushed a strand of hair from her cold forehead. "You might have been of use in other ways." He stood, straightened his robes, and left the Herb Hall, the vial of silent death secure in his sleeve, the dead girl his secret. The arena awaited its drama, and he had his role to play.