The smell of dried blood clung to his nostrils. Even after leaving the arena, Hei Tian could still sense it—like it had seeped into his bones.
Yun Lue walked ahead, fists clenched, her hair sticking to the nape of her neck with sweat. Mu Liang followed silently behind her. Normally so talkative, so curious.
But tonight, nothing.
No words, no laughter. Only the sound of their footsteps echoing against the damp stone of the sewers.
Hei Tian brought up the rear. His gaze drifted over the walls, the black puddles, the claw marks and dents in the stone. Every detail mattered. Everything seen or felt. Because this wasn't just a tournament.
He knew that now.
They emerged through a hidden manhole beneath an old warehouse, concealed from prying eyes. Dawn had not yet broken. The sky wavered between blue and black.
Hei Tian took a deep breath. The open air stung.
Yun Lue turned then, her eyes brighter in the dim light.
"Thank you."
He looked at her, surprised.
"For what?"
"For believing I could handle it… even when I doubted it myself."
She didn't smile. It wasn't a lighthearted thank-you. It was a silent promise. A stone laid between them — steady, grounded.
He gave a slow nod.
Then his gaze shifted to Mu Liang.
The boy was holding something in his hands — a piece of cloth. His expression was strange — absent, yet lucid. As if he had seen something he couldn't put into words.
"Mu Liang… are you okay?"
The boy looked up at him.
"The boy with the mask… he didn't move. He was just watching, like he was choosing. Did you see him?"
Hei Tian nodded.
"Yes."
They returned to the inn in silence. But in Hei Tian's mind, only one thought circled.
Some children are sent to fight. Others are sent to choose who lives.
And at the heart of it all… one thing he wouldn't let go of.
Yun Lue.
The girl had stood out during the battle against Xiàoshī. Her strategy wasn't flashy, but every move was precise, calculated, brutally effective. Those who had dismissed her as a quiet, forgettable child were starting to change their minds. She wasn't powerful—not yet. But there was a raw intuition in her movements that, under the right pressure, forged elites.
Hei Tian, meanwhile, had remained on the sidelines. Observant. Silent. Even after the fight, few had remembered his name. Yet some eyes lingered on him a little longer, unable to say why.
In the shadows of an underground palace, a pale glow filtered through a crystal suspended in the center of the chamber. Around a round table, hooded figures whispered in hushed tones. No names, no clear identities—only voices distorted by concealment artifacts.
"The northern region's tournament has revealed some interesting seeds," one of them said.
"Yun Lue. No noble lineage or elite training, but… she learns fast. A clear mind, instinctively strategic. She draws a lot from very little."
"Hm. Raw talent. Not yet refined, but malleable. The most valuable kind."
"Her attack on Lan Mu was well thought-out. Not dazzling, but precise. She reads her opponents like an open book."
A silence followed.
"And the boy… Hei Tian."
A few heartbeats.
"He stays back. Nothing flashy, but that gaze… he misses nothing."
"Too calm for a novice. Too clear-headed. He sees further than the others — and hides it."
"Maybe a seed… or maybe nothing. But keep an eye on him."
"Don't approach. Not yet."
Another voice, more distant:
"Keep watching. And don't let the sect detect our presence."
A collective breath.
"Let them think we're gone. We prefer to grow in the dark."
The crystal's light pulsed briefly, and the chamber fell back into silence.
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