BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
At the break of dawn, the entire Heavenly Phoenix Range awakened with the beating of war drums. Rhythmic, thunderous, and ancient, the drums sent a wave of pressure rippling across valleys, rivers, and cities surrounding the tournant zone.
Birds scattered, beasts growled in agitation, and even the earth seed to hold its breath.
The Golden Heir Tournant will soon begin.
From inns, camps, teleportation squares, and spirit boats, disciples wearing robes of a thousand different sects and families erged one after another.
Excitent and nervousness danced across their faces, so bright-eyed with ambition, others grim with preparation. All of them looked toward the eastern skies, where the Seven Nations Pagoda stood tall at the edge of the mist-covered Phoenix cliffs, basking in golden light like a divine artifact.
Amid the rising morning sun, Elders of the Seven Nation Syndicate appeared on floating jade platforms, hovering over the tournant square. Their robes carried the marks of divine bloodlines, ancient beasts, sword clans, and the ruling families of their respective nations.
A silver-robed Elder from the Eastern Wind Nation took the lead.
"Let the world bear witness," he announced, his voice magnified by a soul-calling technique, "The first round of the Golden Heir Tournant shall begin this evening, as the final sun dips behind the Phoenix Range!"
A visible shiver ran through the crowd. It had started.
Another elder, dressed in crimson robes of the Vermilion War Sect, raised his staff and added:
"All qualified disciples must report to the Seven Nations Pagoda by the hour of the Evening Drum. Any latecors shall be eliminated without appeal!"
Next ca the full reveal, from the frost-eyed Elder of the North:
"The first round is called the Blood Flag Descent. The rules are simple. You must retrieve a single flag pole from the top levels of the Pagoda and bring it down. There are only 5,000 flag poles... and more than 10,000 participants."
Gasps erupted everywhere.
"Heavens! Half of them will be cut off in just one round!"
"No wonder they called it 'Blood Flag'... this is brutal."
Even outside the disciples' zone, rchant camps and clan caravans buzzed with anticipation. Spirit crystals changed hands at rapid pace. Sects began discussing which of their disciples would advance, which to protect, and which to discard.
So cultivators didn't speak at all. They just stared at the Pagoda in the distance—silent, focused, ditative. The pressure had begun.
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In the Temporary Pavilion
Kent sat cross-legged in silence, surrounded by a small group of his wives—each exuding calm yet frightening presence.
Fatty Ben had just returned from his stroll outside and was munching on spirit peanuts as he spoke.
"They're panicking out there. Betting odds, team strategies, drama. People think the Pagoda is just a climb, but those fools don't realize... it's a grave disguised as a test."
Kent opened his eyes slowly, golden sparks flickering within. "Let them think that."
Nearby, Alia folded her arms, smirking. "So what's your plan, husband? Go alone, or crush your way with your pets?"
Kent stood and said flatly, "Neither. First, I'll walk in without drawing attention. Let the arrogant ones fight for scraps while I climb. There's more to this Pagoda than a flag."
Lily nodded. "Good. We'll watch from the sky mirror. Just don't show your full hand this early."
Outside, the crowd grew rowdy as more cultivators from prestigious families arrived. Floating ships from the Moon-Sworn Palace, the Thunder Wolf Clan, and the Lily Blossom Academy docked near the Pagoda base, drawing cheers and gossip.
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Whispers Among the Masses
"I heard Scott Lin will enter with the twin-blade formation."
"Ryu from Dragonblood Sect arrived this morning. They say he trained under a real divine beast."
"Who is this masked guy on a throne? He doesn't speak, doesn't socialize, and just watches…"
"So say he's Lin Lansiter, the one who destroyed a small city single-handedly."
"No way… that's a myth."
-
Evening approached, and the sky turned golden-orange. The energy around the Pagoda crackled like lightning as the formations inside prepared to activate.
Disciples, one by one, began gathering at the designated zones. So were in teams, others alone. But every one of them had one goal—grab a flag pole and survive the descent.
The war drums would sound again when the sun touched the final cliff—and with it, blood would begin to spill.
-
"The war drums have begun! It's ti!"
"Quick, to the Pagoda! The announcent's happening!"
"They said only 5,000 flags inside… out of more than 10,000 participants. It's going to be a bloodbath!"
Crowds of eager disciples surged forward, each draped in their own clan's or sect's colors. The air buzzed with whispered discussions and high expectations. Onlookers filled natural cliffside seats and balconies carved into stone. Floating platforms hovered in the skies where noble elders and clan leaders watched from a distance.
In front of the Pagoda, a raised jade platform stood where Elder Jun of the Frost Nation stepped forward in a majestic blue robe lined with phoenix feathers. His long beard fluttered as he amplified his voice with a spiritual technique.
"Disciples of the realms," he began, voice sharp as a bell, "Today marks the beginning of the Golden Heir Tournant. Only the worthy shall step forward and rise. For this first round—"
His hand lifted and a portion of the towering Seven Nations Pagoda lit up with a golden glow.
"—You must retrieve one flag pole from within the Pagoda and bring it back to the base."
Whispers broke out imdiately.
Elder Jun raised his hand and continued, "Only 5,000 flag poles exist inside the Pagoda. You are 10,872 qualified participants."
Gasps spread through the crowd.
"This is a test of not just strength, but strategy, speed, and survival. The Pagoda is filled with moving formations, spirit beasts, illusions, and traps. Those who are slow or weak... will not pass. And rember—killing is allowed if necessary within this round. The pagoda will sense lethal intent and eject you in case you kill without fight. If opponent begs, you must leave him alive."
A mont of silence passed as the stakes settled into the bones of the disciples.
"Now," Elder Jun's palm struck the air, and an invisible wave of Qi spread out, "Enter."
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Tq Guys!
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