Chapter 23: So it's You
The atmosphere in the arena crackled with excitement as the tournament continued into its later rounds. Cultivators clashed in bursts of flame, wind, and steel, each trying to carve their name into the rankings. Flux sat quietly among the participants' section, his gaze sweeping across the battlefield. The crowd roared with every blow, but his eyes remained calm—calculating.
Match after match passed. Some battles were one-sided, others drawn out and vicious. The smell of sweat, blood, and spiritual energy filled the air as the pace of the matches began to quicken.
Then, a name was called.
"Next match: Flux versus Tresa of the Night Lotus Pavilion!"
Flux stood up without a word, adjusting the strap of his sword as he descended into the arena. As he stepped onto the battle platform, his eyes narrowed.
She was already waiting there—Tresa. Slender, sharp-eyed, her posture calm yet ready. The same girl who had ambushed him and Ryo in the forest during the first phase of the tournament.
Tresa smirked. "Fancy meeting you here."
Flux tilted his head slightly. "Flux. Rogue cultivator."
Tresa gave a mocking bow. "Tresa of the Night Lotus Pavilion."
Her gaze sharpened as she stepped forward. "Hmm... Aren't you the one who slipped away in the mist? Back in the forest?"
Flux said nothing, but his stance shifted subtly, his guard rising.
Tresa chuckled. "Not much of a talker, huh? Just as I suspected."
She twirled a silver talisman between her fingers as she continued, "After our... little clash, my team managed to ambush a few groups. We laid low after that and secured our tokens. What about you two?"
Flux replied flatly, "Same."
But his eyes never left her hands. His instincts screamed at him—she was buying time.
Tresa grinned. "I figured. You're as sharp as I thought."
Then, without warning, she slammed the talisman into the ground.
Boom!
A thick wave of purple mist exploded outward, engulfing the platform in a cold fog. The crowd gasped. Visibility dropped to near zero.
Flux didn't flinch. He closed his eyes for a brief second.
Miststep Flow.
His form flickered, vanishing just as a dagger slashed through where he had been. Tresa appeared behind him, her blade aimed for his neck.
"Not bad," she whispered. "You knew I was stalling."
Flux reappeared behind her, palm glowing. "Whirling Crescent."
A sharp gust of spinning energy erupted from his hand, slamming into Tresa and forcing her to retreat, blood spattering from a shallow cut on her arm.
She coughed and chuckled, wincing. "You really aren't the type to give someone a chance, are you?"
Flux didn't answer. He pressed forward, sword gleaming with blue spiritual light.
Tresa blocked two strikes, but the third tore through her defenses, sending her sliding back across the arena floor.
Panting, she raised a hand.
"Fine! I surrender!" she shouted. "I can't keep this up anyway."
The fog faded as the announcer raised his voice.
"Winner: Flux!"
Cheers erupted from some parts of the crowd, while others groaned in disappointment.
"Hah! Another short one!"
"That rogue guy is too boring—"
Back in the seating area, Ryo leaned over with a wide grin. "Well, that was quick."
Flux sat down wordlessly, wiping the sweat from his brow.
Ryo elbowed him. "Wait a second—wasn't that the girl who ambushed us in the forest?"
Flux nodded. "One of them."
"Pfft—HAHAHAHA! That's so satisfying!" Ryo leaned back and howled with laughter. "I was hoping to get a shot at one of those punks, but the other one's already eliminated... and you just smoked the last one!"
"I guess that means I'll never get my revenge," he added with mock disappointment. "But still, seeing you wreck her like that? Priceless!"
Flux sighed. "How did I end up traveling with someone like you?"
Ryo grinned. "Fate, obviously."
The matches continued. Only two battles remained before the end of the day's round. One featured two rogue cultivators, evenly matched and trading fierce blows. The last was the highly anticipated appearance of the Thunder Iron Sect's number one inner disciple, a youth at the 8th level of Foundation Establishment.
His strength was overwhelming, dispatching his opponent in mere minutes with earth-shaking lightning arts and raw physical might.
When the match ended, one of the elders stood and raised his voice.
"This concludes today's matches! The tournament will resume tomorrow morning with the next round of eliminations!"
Cheers and groans echoed through the stadium.
As the crowd dispersed, Ryo stretched. "C'mon, let's eat. I need something greasy after all this excitement."
They strolled through the city streets under the golden evening light. Ryo talked nonstop.
"Man, that last fight with the Thunder Iron guy? Insane. But yours? Whew. That girl didn't stand a chance! You should've seen her face when you vanished—classic!"
Flux said nothing.
Ryo glanced at him. "Still not gonna talk? Not even a 'thanks for the support, Ryo'?"
Flux turned to him. "Thanks for the noise. Now I'm hungrier."
Ryo stopped mid-step, stunned. "Wait. Did you just make a joke?"
Flux didn't reply. He stepped into the restaurant and waved for a menu.
Ryo followed with an exaggerated groan. "Ugh, seriously. Your appetite's unreal. You barely moved in your match! What're you even burning energy on?!"
"I'm hungry. Stop talking," Flux replied, eyes scanning the dishes.
Ryo sighed dramatically. "You're unbelievable. The weirdest person I know."
Flux, already halfway through a skewer of grilled meat, didn't bother replying.
---
After devouring a full spread of grilled meat, steaming rice, and spiced spirit broth, Flux finally leaned back in his seat, his appetite sated. Ryo, on the other hand, was still shaking his head in disbelief.
"You ate more than a demonic beast in winter prep," Ryo muttered. "I'm going to have to start betting on your stomach instead of your sword."
Flux stood up, tossing a few spirit stones on the table. "Let's go."
The walk back to their inn was quiet. The streets of Mologan City had calmed, the earlier energy of the tournament giving way to lantern-lit roads and murmured conversations among lingering spectators. A soft breeze carried the scent of roasted chestnuts and incense through the air as the two young cultivators made their way back.
They reached the inn—a modest but clean establishment nestled between a tea house and a talisman shop. Their room was simple: two beds, a small table, a meditation mat, and a flickering lantern set into the wall.
Ryo kicked off his boots and collapsed onto the bed. "I'm not getting up until the sun threatens to slap me."
Flux, meanwhile, sat on the edge of his bed and took a deep breath. His eyes closed.
He let the memories of the day replay behind his eyelids—every movement, every clash, every technique used.
The Crimson Vail sect number 1 inner disciple that end her opponent quick.
The Thunder Iron Sect disciple's brutal display of force. The fluid defense of the rogue cultivator in the second-to-last match. The tempo of the arena, the way the crowd influenced perception, and how the announcers delayed matches just long enough to sway momentum.
Ryo had already begun to snore.
Flux stared at the dim ceiling, his expression unreadable. He wasn't here to show off or gain fame. Every fight was a step forward. A test. A sharpening stone.
Eventually, he lay down, one hand resting near his storage pouch, and let his thoughts dissolve into the quiet rhythm of cultivating.