Year 663 of the Stable Era,

  Twenty-second day of the eleventh month

  Five minutes past the start of the 6th Inner Hour

  “And for the first match of the fifth round of the Turtle Bracket, representing the Teal Mountain Sect—”

  The announcer roared through the starting introductions of the next round as the crowd cheered, the sound enough to send the bench shaking yet again. The Green Jade Training Hall had filled out considerably since the start of the tournament. All six of the once-empty rows were packed to the brim with a rainbow of sect robes, each spectator excitedly rooting for their remaining representatives. The Great Meeting of the Sects was a time for unity between sects, but that didn’t mean that pride needed to play second to humility and goodwill.

  After all, wouldn’t it be disingenuous to not try one’s best to win? And wouldn’t it be a poor display of comradery and the strength of a sect’s bonds to not heartily cheer in support of their fellow members? And if they happened to clap particularly enthusiastically at the sight of a rival or hard matchup for their own representatives being beaten? Well, who was anyone to say that they should reserve their applause for their own sect?

  Emotions were so high that the representative of the Teal Jade Gambling Association, who had bored to the point of inattention at the start of the tournament, had been forced to call on two companions of his own. The two disciples at the front were taking brisk action on the next match even as the competitors approached the stage, the disciple sorting payments working furiously to match their pace.

  As the referee declared the start of the match one struck a small gong and half the still-waiting crowd dissolved in a cloud of groans and grumbled disappointments. A few drifted off to aimlessly stand in line for the food stalls, now that those had dispersed to watch the match in progress. The rest joined the other leavers, standing and sitting as they turned to the show at hand. Those that remained steadfast eagerly advanced, money clenched in hand to place bets on the next match even before the current one had finished.

  The contestants stepped forwards to perform their martial greeting, but Bao was barely paying attention to them even before Lee Han tapped him on his shoulder. His bowl of shrimp fried rice sat abandoned on his lap, his thoughts already on the next match and the fight that awaited his friend Chao Ren.

  Still, he slid to the side to allow the tiger in before he needed to tap him a second time, tapping Li Lee on the shoulder to pass on the message as he did. The thin disciple scootched to the left, stowing the spare outer robe he’d left to reserve the seat into his storage ring. The tiger guai’s tail brushed Bao’s cheek as he snuck by, arms carefully raised to avoid jostling his cargo.

  “So, which of these two’re you betting on?” Bao asked, retaking his seat as the Imperial Blade Scholar blocked two rapid strikes against his shield. The question was part escape, part interest, as his friend had been spending a considerable amount of the afternoon at the betting booth.

  “Oh, neither,” Lee Han said cheerily, taking a bite from a streaming pork bao as he did. “I just put down my bet for Chao Ren early, then took a piss before grabbing a bite.”

  “You think that he’s really got a chance?” Bao asked. He knew that the tiger had been sticking to a principle of support among fellow direct disciples, but with the state of their friend…

  “Well, he better!” Lee Han laughed, “I just put 200 spirit stones down on him.”

  Bao blinked, as Li Lee looked at the young tiger in shock. 200 spirit stones, while not the largest wager that he’d seen (an honor currently held by a bet on tree growth speeds that his grandfather had been waiting years to collect on), was still a substantial amount of money. Enough for a healthy handful of early-stage talismans, a reliable technique manual, or even a magical artifact with a decent permanent effect. Lee Han picked up on their shared look halfway through his second bite.

  “What?” he asked, a bit of pork almost escaping before he bounced it back into his mouth. “You know that I’ve been betting on him every fight. And it’s not like I’m just letting it all ride. I’ve been skimming a bit of the profit off each time, and I’ve already pocketed twice my initial wager. I’m basically just playing with the house’s money at this point.”

  “It’s probably good that you didn’t choose this round to go all in on him,” Shen said from Lee Han’s left, leaning past the tiger to address the rest of his companions as he stroked his chin.

  The habit was the only thing to have survived the young dragon’s ill-conceived beard phase. He’d looked ridiculous with that scraggly blue bush stuck to his face for the half a year he had spent attempting to pull off the look, an aesthetic that hadn’t improved until its winnowing had finally reduced it from goatee to extinct.

  He’d missed the first half of the tournament due to his duties as an Inner Disciple, but he’d managed to break away in time to catch the back half of the tournament. He’d arrived tired, but enthusiastic, and had been spending the last few rounds giving a running commentary for the group with Lee Han. Both Bao and Li Lee had enjoyed their insight into the intricacies of the fights, a sentiment shared by at least two of their neighbors, who he’d caught snickering at a few of their more…exuberant exclamations.

  “The last round was rough,” Shen said, finally leaving the ghost of his beard alone. “It was a spectacular upset to pull off the win the way that he did, but doing so likely took far too much out of him.”

  “Mrgm-hm,” Lee Han agreed around the last of his bun. “He’ll have to fight real careful in the next one if he wants to get there.”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  “Can’t he just recover between the fights?” Li Lee asked, looking away from the fight raging between their sectmate and the Imperial Blade Scholar. “He’s pretty good at absorbing qi these days.”

  “There’s just not enough time, unless this fight goes long,” Shen sighed, shaking his head. “In the early rounds it’s easy enough to recover because there’s so many matches between each fight. But this late it’s a whole different beast, even with the extended breaks between rounds.”

  There was no malice in his voice; simply clear, concise calculations. But it was still enough to make Bao’s spirit sink a bit. He knew just how tirelessly Chao Ren had trained for the tournament, thanks to all the extra spars and late-night study sessions they’d shared. Just how much he’d pushed himself to have a chance to stand proud as a true cultivator on the stage of his debut tournament. And after the first few rounds he’d even begun to think that his friend might really be able to make it all the way. He’d just been doing so well, up until he hadn’t.

  “Pacing’s real important,” Lee Han added. “Long fights are great to watch, but crap to get stuck in. You can win, but unless it’s the final fight it doesn’t matter for shit if it means you’re too tired to fight in the next round. The fact that he’s the second fight of this one means that he’ll have more time to recover for his upcoming fight, but it’s not without its drawbacks. His opponent will have more time to rest between their match and the finals, and that difference could be all it takes if his next round is anywhere near as close as the last.”

  “You can’t fault him for this too much, though,” Shen said. “That ant guai was a strong opponent. He had the reputation to prove it in the North-eastern tournament scene. Great pacing, excellent at setting the tempo of the fight, and well-prepared too. His technique made optimal use of the limits of the Refining Stage, and I would wager most of Lee Han’s winnings that he chose to learn it as his first technique with that in mind. He was even one of the favorites to win the entire thing, if I recall correctly.”

  “Yup,” Lee Han affirmed with an emphatic nod. “The Teal Jade Gambling Association had Chao Ren’s odds of winning at just over three-to-one odds. Made a REAL good profit off of that.”

  Bao couldn’t help but nod in agreement. That was a lot of spirit stones.

  “So, if it’s that impressive that he won, you can’t exactly blame him for forgetting to conserve qi in that sort of situation, can you?” He felt his cheeks flush a bit as he defended their absent companion, possibly a bit too impassioned in his attempt to be heard over the cheer that had erupted around them as the Imperial Blade Scholar took a glancing hit to their ribs.

  “Oh, I’m not denying that,” Shen said, his light green Inner Disciple robes rustling faintly as he produced his wine gourd. “In fact, he used our training quite well considering the situation he was in and his lack of tournament experience. But this exhibition won’t reward that sort of sentiment, at least in terms of the placement prizes. It’s simply the nature of circumstance that his run might end as a result of his encounter with a prodigy of the Great Dessert Walkers.”

  “Do we know who he’s fighting in the next round?” Li Lee asked, jumping back into the conversation as the Imperial Blade Scholar leapt over a sweeping chain. The curved hook at its end shone against the arena’s dark stone as its wielder flicked its length. It twitched, like a minnow evading a barracuda, twisting towards the back of their ankle as it bounced back after the Scholar.

  “Yeah, it’s that plant guy,” Bao replied. He snapped his fingers, attempting to conjure their name back into his mind. “Um, what’s his name…”

  “Yes!” Lee Han shouted, as the Imperial Blade Scholar fell. Steel glinted around their foot as the chain dug into their flesh, blood trailing as their opponent began to reel them in. “THAT’S why awareness matters so much!”

  “Wait, Lim Yuze?” Li Lee remembered a beat later. “Already? I thought we still had another few rounds after this?”

  “No, you’re thinking about the bracket merge for the finals,” Shen corrected. “There’s one round in the Turtle Bracket after this, and then the winner of the Bracket will compete against the winners of the other three in two finalist rounds for the title of Exhibition Champion.”

  “Huh. I wonder how ready he’s going to be?” Li Lee mused. “He was also pretty out of it at the end of his last round.”

  That was true, wasn’t it? The Thousand Grain Pavilion’s representative had been using his plant technique quite heavily. It dealt with plant growth in some way, allowing him to grow seeds to full in a matter of seconds. Not a subtle technique for sure, which had to mean that overusing it had to have a heavy cost. A sentiment that Shen agreed with a moment later.

  “His issue is more of a persistent problem than the result of an individual round,” the young dragon said, taking another swig of his drink. His expression was thoughtful as he turned his gourd over in his hands, the spirit wine sloshing faintly.

  “That type of technique is quite qi hungry at the refining stage. In the early rounds he could afford to be greedier with his usage, as going all-out likely meant that he was able to win quickly enough that the match count could compensate for his recovery. But with the rounds as short as they are now, and considering that his last few opponents were good enough that he couldn’t finish them with a single decisive move…I can’t imagine that his reserves are particularly full.”

  “So, he’s in the same boat as Chao Ren then?” Li Lee asked, and Bao perked up as he beat him to the punch. “That’s good, right?”

  “Different boat, same river,” Lee Han replied. “The winner’s probably going to be determined by cultivation. Whoever cultivated more diligently will be able to better recover their qi, and that will set the starting point. After that, it’ll come down to martial skill. If Chao Ren follows our advice, they’ll both be doing their best to fight conservatively. They both want to stand a chance in the finals, so that means no more big, dramatic moves if they can’t help it.”

  “Will technique prevail, or will skill prove to be its match?” Shen mused, his hand rising to his chin once again.

  “Well, get ready to find out!” Lee Han exclaimed, pulling another bao from his carton as the announcer declared the winner of the match. The Imperial Blade Scholar limped out of the arena as the dark nephrite sleeve of the Teal Mountain Sect rose in triumph, and the group rose with it to join in on the last of the cheering and arm flailing before the announcer waved them silent.

  This lasted as long as it took to announce the first of the next competitors, at which point the throng of disciples once again rose acheer as Chao Ren stepped out. Bao waved excitedly at him as he stamped his feet, even though he knew that the arena’s array would prevent his friend from hearing any of it.

  “C’mon Chao Ren! You’ve got this!!!”

  “You know, if he wins this one then our sect will have swept both sides of the bracket,” Shen remarked, as the announcer struggled to make himself heard over the enthusiastic crowd. “A guaranteed slot in the top four for the Sect, after the brackets merge.”

  “Kick his ass!” Lee Han yelled, pumping his fist in the air as the sound array around the arena activated, dulling the sound of the crowd so that the announcer could finally get through the start of the match.

  The silence redoubled as the crowd fell into a hush, excitement replaced with anticipation as they leaned forwards with bated breath. Bao could see Chao Ren’s fingers clenching ever so slightly around his staff, that familiar tension in his shoulders and eyes as the referee’s hand rose.

  C’mon man, Bao thought, as he felt his own hand mirror his friend’s. You can do it! Just—do it!!!