Chương 108: Book 2 Chapter 22: Arena

The day of the duel began, as expected, with an argument.

"But why can't I go?" complained Xiao Hua, now bold and fearless, having shed all hesitation around Bai Ning and Su Lianhua alike.

"Because," replied Su Lianhua with admirable patience, "a clash between seniors is not the place for you to be. Even Chen'er is not going, see." The boy, whose mouth was set in a mutinous line that mirrored Xiao Hua's, opened it to protest. One sharp look from his mother, however, silenced him immediately. Behind Su Lianhua, Bai Ning pulled a face that clearly said, I wanted you to come, but the scary lady won't let me.

It was, in a strange way, almost adorable, if one ignored how swiftly and effortlessly she had cast herself as the "fun elder sister," leaving poor Su Lianhua run ragged trying to contain two complaining children. As always, her talent for lies and blame-shifting was peerless under the heaven.

Su Chen and Xiao Hua, once again granted leave from the Flower Valley Sect to visit the Kanchi mine – an arrangement that made Mo Jian increasingly question the sect's credentials; what kind of sect allowed its disciples to skive off lessons so freely? – pouted in perfect unison. Visibly exasperated, Su Lianhua sighed.

"Oh, come now. You can accompany me around the mine today, or go with Senior He Jianyu. He doesn't mind answering questions." As consolation prizes went, it was decidedly third-rate. The children did that anyway whenever they visited. And Mo Jian suspected, though he was far too dignified to say so, that He Jianyu's endless patience had less to do with the children and considerably more to do with Su Lianhua… but he was a revered elder, and he should not stoop to gossip.

Bai Ning did more than enough of that for ten people combined, he reminded himself. Still, comedic routine aside, it was indeed time to go. The sky beyond the gently shining walls of the Exquisite Jade Hall remained dark, and it would be another hour before the first glimmers of sunlight touched the horizon. That gave them just enough time to reach the arena, located in the unimaginatively named Turtle Stone Arena District, if they flew at top speed. Wei Shentong and Duan Cheng would already be there, waiting.

Mo Jian knew this both because he had spied on them with the Heaven Enshrouding Ding, and because an official jade slip had been sent to the Kanchi mine a day prior, outlining the details. It was that same jade slip, functioning like a voice-transmission talisman, that had announced the duel to every cultivator within several li. Until then, knowledge of it had been limited to Mo Jian, Bai Ning, and the two Core Formation supervisors under them. Now, half the mountain was ablaze with speculation.

Funnily enough, most people expected them to win. Even accounting for Wei Shentong's age and experience, there lingered a pervasive, almost cheerful certainty among the mine's population: of course, Lord Mo Jian and Sister Bai Ning would prevail. Mo Jian might have felt proud, if not for the fact that this confidence was almost always followed by:"They have a dragon, after all." What was he? Chopped liver?

Pushing the thought aside, Mo Jian flared his qi gently, mindful of the weaker cultivators nearby, and rose into the air. He had been waiting in a side chamber while Bai Ning exchanged farewells in the main hall, a scene he had already observed through his spiritual sense. That spared him the need for pleasantries; he could simply ascend directly into the sky. Moments later, a streak of green qi shot up to join him.

Together, they climbed higher and higher, watching the Kanchi mine and its surrounding district unfurl below them in a patchwork tapestry of houses and markets, parks and canals, and a thousand other small corners of human life. Light shimmered from every direction: lanterns swaying in the dark, qi-lights glowing softly from windowsills, talismans gleaming on doorposts, flames cupped in passing hands, spirit stones embedded in the hulls of flying ships.

Only a handful of streets lay in true darkness, where sensible souls still slept, but the rest of the city stretched as far as the eye could see, alive, awake, and spilling out into the streets. The skies were no less crowded. Save for the space immediately surrounding the mine, which remained conspicuously clear, cultivators crisscrossed the heavens on all manner of tools and vehicles.

One figure near the market stood out above the rest: an old man riding in a carriage drawn by a bird-type spirit beast, attended by ten guards in full armor with gleaming weapons. The carriage itself blazed like a molten sun: golden, radiant, and utterly blinding. Mo Jian blinked the spots from his vision (metaphorically, of course; at his realm, it would take far more than glare to trouble him), and summoned the Heaven Enshrouding Ding.

It expanded in a pulse of azure light, and he settled onto one side of the lid beside the metal scorpion that served as its handle. Bai Ning took the other side without hesitation, her green qi already coiling around her like a cloak against the wind. In the next instant the ding was enveloped in a sphere of compressed azure light and launched forward like an arrow, tearing through the predawn sky. Its speed was such that nearby cultivators startled visibly as it passed, present one heartbeat, vanished the next.

Those who glimpsed it approaching veered aside without prompting, granting a wide berth out of instinct. This was the unmistakable speed of a Nascent Soul senior, and such figures were always, wisely, given the right of way. And so, with the winds screaming past and the city falling away beneath them in ribbons of amber and white light, Mo Jian and Bai Ning sped toward the arena where their duel awaited. ……………………………………………………………………..

As they flew, they passed astounding sights one after another, each possible only within a city the size of the capital. Three districts ahead, a massive canal carved through the city, and massive was an understatement that beggared language. Mo Jian found himself instinctively slowing the ding to take it in properly. The canal was so wide that the far bank was invisible from his vantage point in the sky, and so long that both its beginning and its end were lost beyond the horizon.

If not for the map etched into his mind, he might have believed himself returned home. It felt as though he hovered above the sea. And yet, even here, there was no emptiness. Floating houses woven from bamboo and reeds clustered in orderly blocks, watery streets winding between them. Near a central plaza stood a residence formed entirely from water, its walls alive with fish that swam through liquid corridors and arched through the ceiling to emerge on the other side.

Lotus flowers, folded from vast sheets of waxed paper until they gleamed like oil, bobbed on the surface, bearing passengers who stepped on and off them as though they were boats. An actual boat drifted nearby as well, except it floated atop a suspended mass of water while flying through the air. That oddity was enough to make even Bai Ning point it out. Why build a flying vessel only to burden it with water? And if it was meant to sail, why give it the ability to fly at all?

Curious as such sights were, they had a destination to reach. Before long, the Heaven Enshrouding Ding sped past the canal. Only for the next district to be wholly overrun by flowers. These were not flowers in any ordinary sense. They were colossal, each unfurled bloom broad enough to host a dozen houses upon its petals. And so they did. Homes, shops, granaries, parks, and halls had all been built atop the springy surfaces, while thick vines and curling leaves served as roads and bridges between them.

Below, glimpses of broken cobblestone and immense roots hinted at the buried city beneath, as though the flowers had grown up through the streets and claimed them entirely. The air was thick with drifting pollen, golden in the predawn dark, catching the light of lanterns below. Bai Ning gasped as they passed over a gigantic fruit, around which several dozen people sat eating the same fruit, carving into it with knives and chopsticks as though it were a communal feast.

Mo Jian felt a flicker of temptation to descend and sample it himself. But the duel awaited, so on they went. The next district was, by the capital's standards, almost ordinary, built to an incomprehensible scale but following principles Mo Jian could at least recognize as sensible. They did not slow, pressing forward until the ground ahead abruptly fell away into a vast chasm. It was the only word that fit.

An impossibly wide, unfathomably deep rupture in the earth, nearly splitting an entire district in two, its bottom lost in lightless depths that no eye could penetrate. Along the cavern walls, vast sections had been hollowed out to reveal entire communities embedded within the stone itself, clinging to either side of the abyss in layered terraces of light and habitation.

Between the two faces hung enormous iron chains, each as thick as a tower, stretching across the void like steel bridges intended only for cultivators to walk. Most striking of all were the openings. At irregular intervals along the lower walls, wide mouths in the rock hurled massive boulders across the void, launching them like shots from ancient siege engines to crash into the opposing wall with reports like thunderclaps.

Powerful gusts of earth qi surged upward from the depths with each impact, carrying the roar of stone shattering into millions of fragments that cascaded downward into darkness. Even at a glance, it was unmistakable: this was a haven for earth-aspected cultivators.

"We have to come back and explore," Bai Ning declared, her voice lit with unguarded excitement. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Mo Jian could only nod. He had known, from Xu Chuanli's descriptions, that the capital held its share of exotic districts, but to think such wonders lay so close at hand. These were sights worth seeing. However, they had arrived.

Even as the sky ahead began to lighten, shifting from deep, saturated blue to softer shades, the clouds above transforming from grey masses into vast, towering cathedrals of white, the walls of the arena came into view. It rose like a colossal colosseum: a great ring of ancient, dark stone enclosing an expansive central platform below. Around its perimeter stood flagpoles, each as thick and tall as a castle tower, bearing banners that snapped and cracked in the cold morning wind.

Mo Jian recognized their purpose at once, both from his earlier surveillance and from his own knowledge. Those were formation flags, the anchors of a Greater Illusory Restriction Formation. Even from this distance he could feel the qi they radiated, dense and layered with painstaking workmanship. Given their scale, the restriction would be formidable. A streak of olive light cut through the air near the arena, coalescing into the scowling figure of Wei Shentong.

He fixed them with a frosty glance, then flicked his sleeve and descended to land atop the wall encircling the arena. Mo Jian and Bai Ning exchanged a look before following, with Mo Jian carefully stowing away the Heaven Enshrouding Ding as he moved. When they reached the top of the wall, two other men were already waiting. One was Duan Cheng, as austere and composed as ever. A crimson breastplate had been layered over his usual robes, lending him a sharper, more martial air.

He gave Mo Jian a brief nod, then proceeded to ignore the rest. The other was the arena manager. Only in the mid-stage of Foundation Establishment, he bent into a bow so deep it bordered on a kowtow, saved only by the fact that his knees still refused to touch the ground. Wei Shentong had landed beside him, and moments later Mo Jian joined them. The poor man immediately began to sweat.

"Welcome, seniors," he said hurriedly.

"The Turtle Stone Arena is honored by the presence of such powerful beings. I am Wang Ping, the manager here. May I explain the arrangements?" Wei Shentong slashed a hand through the air. The man flinched so violently it looked as though he might collapse on the spot.

"I already know," Wei Shentong said coldly.

"Explain it for Fellow Daoist Mo Jian. Then we proceed." Mo Jian, taking some pity on the obvious distress radiating from Wang Ping in visible waves, inclined his head.

"Go ahead." Wang Ping swallowed, drawing on what little composure he had left.

"The Turtle Stone Arena is not remarkable in size or facilities, but we take pride in one thing: the Greater Illusory Restriction Formation. As the seniors likely know, this grand formation can manifest boundless illusions within a defined space. Those trapped inside cannot distinguish illusion from reality. In duels past, forests, mountains, deserts, seas, and skies have all been simulated within it.

For the fighters, it is no different from being transported into another world, where they may display their full strength." He hesitated, voice faltering.

"It is only that…" Wei Shentong barked, "Spit it out." Wang Ping went pale.

"Mercy, senior. I mean no concealment. It's only that all previous fighters have been, at most, at the Core Formation stage. The formation is powerful, but I dare not claim it can contain the might of two Nascent Soul seniors unleashing their full strength. However, as long as you do not target the formation itself or attempt to break it, it should suffice for a spar. I hope this satisfies you, seniors." He finished on a tight voice, clearly bracing for punishment. Wei Shentong snorted.

"Hmph. It'll do." Mo Jian felt a faint urge to roll his eyes at the performance, though he also felt a shred of sympathy for Wang Ping. Wei Shentong had arranged all this himself; there was no real need for intimidation. Still, he simply nodded. Wang Ping exhaled in visible relief.

"Thank you, seniors. Then there is only one thing left to ask. What manner of arena do the fighters desire? I will do my utmost to accommodate you." Wei Shentong turned.

"Duan Cheng. Decide with this junior what field you will fight on." Bai Ning immediately shook her head.

"No need. Any arena is fine." She turned to Duan Cheng with a faint, challenging smile.

"Choose whatever you like." Duan Cheng narrowed his eyes, though he did not take the bait. Instead, he turned to Wang Ping.

"In that case, a simple plain will do. Fellow Daoist Bai Ning will not be able to claim I took any advantage on a neutral field."

"Good," Wei Shentong cut in.

"As for us, let fate decide. A random arena." He shot Mo Jian a challenging look.

"What say you, Mo Jian?" Mo Jian raised an eyebrow, then nodded.

"Fine. Let fate decide." Wang Ping bowed once more, deeply enough that his voice came muffled.

"Understood, seniors. Please wait a moment while I prepare the arena for the first fight." He hurried away as though afraid that lingering even a moment longer might invite disaster. From his sleeve he produced a jade token and pressed it into the air. A ripple of light spread along the arena wall like ink dropped into still water. The formation responded instantly. A deep hum rose from the stone beneath their feet, low at first, then swelling until the entire structure seemed to breathe with it.

Ancient script surfaced across the walls like veins of pale gold rising through dark rock. Mo Jian felt the world subtly shift, as if reality had been layered with something thinner and more fluid, the illusion settling into place.

The jade token in Wang Ping's hands flared, and a ring of fractured light expanded from the arena's center below, spinning faster and faster until it became a wheel of briefly glimpsed scenes: mountains, seas, blood-red deserts, frozen wastelands, storm-split skies, stone plains without end. They flickered too quickly to hold before the wheel pulsed once and collapsed inward like a closing eye. Silence fell, and then Wang Ping swallowed audibly.

"T-the first arena is ready…" Mo Jian looked around himself. The wall was gone. Beneath his feet stretched a vast expanse of cracked white stone, flat as a mirror of bone. The horizon was distant and empty in every direction, without a single hill, tree, or obstruction. Even the sky above was pale and uniform, like a blank parchment stretched over the world. It was a true, featureless plain. Duan Cheng exhaled slowly.

"Good." He stepped forward once. Then, as though the air itself had become a staircase, he began to rise. Each step landed on nothing, yet ripples of light spread beneath his feet as if solid ground had answered his will. He ascended calmly into the sky. Bai Ning snorted softly and followed suit, rising directly upward. She stopped at a matching height opposite him, gaze steady as she waited. Mo Jian raised a hand.

A barrier of azure qi unfurled around him and Wang Ping, sealing them within a calm, translucent dome. Wang Ping flinched at first, then hurriedly bowed within it.

"Th-thank you, Senior…" Wei Shentong let out a dismissive scoff beside him, and in the next instant his figure blurred into a streak of light that shot across the illusory world, clearly intent on observing the battle alone from afar. High above the featureless white expanse, Bai Ning and Duan Cheng faced one another across an empty gulf of pale sky. Bai Ning's gaze was sharp and challenging. Duan Cheng remained as calm as ever, carrying the same quiet stillness that never seemed to leave him.

But beneath that calm, the battle had already begun. Their spiritual senses spread outward and collided again and again in the space between them, invisible yet heavy with pressure. The air trembled faintly as each tested the other's strength, searching for the smallest opening. It was only a prelude, but it revealed enough. Bai Ning's expression tightened slightly as the exchange continued.

Duan Cheng was not merely matching her — there was a subtle weight behind his presence, the kind that came from long experience, steadily pressing against her own. Then Duan Cheng moved. He raised a hand, and a single point of golden light sprang into existence above his palm. It expanded at once, flattening and folding into itself until it formed a perfect cube. The light flared brilliantly for a heartbeat before dimming, revealing its true form: a die.

Forged of gold, its surfaces gleamed with a simple luster, yet the white spots upon it were anything but ordinary. They shifted and flowed across its faces like living things, merging and dividing in an endless, hypnotic dance that defied any fixed pattern. The die pulsed once more, then rose into the air. As it ascended, it grew. From the size of a palm to a crate to a wagon, until within the span of a few breaths it had swollen into something immense, a monolith the size of a manor house hanging in the pale sky.

The shifting symbols upon its faces slowly settled into discernible forms: on four sides, intricate arrays of interlocking circles and pentacles spread outward from each spot like branching constellations. On the upper and lower faces, the patterns resolved into something stark and unambiguous: a spear above, a shield below. Far beneath them, inside his azure barrier, Mo Jian watched with interest. Bai Ning narrowed her eyes. With a sharp motion, the Green Destiny Sword appeared in her hand.

Its jade-colored blade hummed as viridian qi surged around her, wrapping her body in layers of radiant defensive light. The die reacted instantly. With a sharp fracture of light, it split cleanly into two halves. One turned pale and translucent, expanding as it descended around Duan Cheng, forming a cuboid barrier that shimmered like solidified air. Inside it, he stood perfectly still. The other half remained solid. Then it moved.

The massive die rocked violently, as though seized by an invisible hand, and hurled itself forward. It rolled through the sky as if the heavens had become a gaming table, spinning end over end in a blur of gold and white. Its passage carried a deep resonance felt more than heard. Bai Ning retreated as her defensive halos tightened around her. The die continued rolling through the air before gradually slowing to a stop. Every visible face showed the same number: six. Only the top and bottom differed.

Both bore the image of a spear. Far below, Mo Jian's eyes widened for the briefest moment. A warning nearly escaped him before he forced it down. Bai Ning would understand soon enough. More importantly, this was her battle to fight. Above, Bai Ning's aura flared as she strengthened her defenses. The Green Destiny Sword split into five identical copies, each circling her in a tight ring of green light, forming another protective layer. It was not enough.

The instant the die settled, golden light burst across its surface before the entire construct shattered. The attack came without warning. Bai Ning barely had time to raise one sword across her body before the force hit. A massive invisible impact slammed into her and sent her flying backward through the sky like a streak of green light. Her arms shook violently as she forced qi into the blade, struggling to withstand the overwhelming pressure behind the strike.

Only after traveling hundreds of meters did she finally stop herself, the air around her still rippling from the impact. By then, Duan Cheng had already moved again. With a flick of his finger, the enormous die suspended in the sky began rolling once more, as casually as if he were tossing a gaming piece across a table. It spun, slowed, and settled. Again: six. But this time the symbols had changed. The spear was gone. In its place, on both the top and bottom faces, was a hand.

"Oh," Bai Ning breathed, realization arriving a fraction too late. The sky answered immediately. An enormous invisible force slammed down onto her position without warning, like the hand of a god striking from above. Mo Jian winced as Bai Ning was driven downward in a streak of green light, her hastily raised defenses barely softening the blow as she hurtled toward the ground. She was being toyed with. Even he had to admit, it was a vicious ability. Now get up, he thought, his gaze sharpening. Turn it around.

As if responding to the thought, the barren plain below exploded. A gigantic sword of green light erupted upward from the earth, towering into the sky with such force that it struck the massive die aside like an arrow knocking away a stone. A second sword followed immediately after, just as enormous, shooting straight toward Duan Cheng. It crashed into the translucent cuboid around him. For the first time, Duan Cheng moved. The impact forced him backward as the barrier shook violently.

Cracks spread across its surface in an instant, splintering through it like shattered glass. The momentum of the battle shifted. Below, Mo Jian let out a slow breath. Beside him, Wang Ping stood rigid, barely breathing. High above them, within the pale sky of the illusory plain, Bai Ning halted her fall, turned, and rose once more. Now the real battle had begun.