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Druidic Cultivation | Thirty-Seven
🕑 Added 2019-06-14 23:08:44 +0000 UTCOnly a couple more chapters left in the first tournament arc before we're off to the sect. I'm sure you've noticed that there's a lot less fighting and more character development going on than you expecting. Sorry if that's a let down, I just don't see the appeal in dragging a fight out for chapters or making every thirteen year old a martial arts expert.
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By the time that the losing bracket had finished up the fifth round, the sun completely descended over the horizon. The tourney had been going on for a few hours and Jiao couldn’t help but be thankful that there were so few competitors during the winter. The days might be shorter and the sun set quicker but it was better than a weeks worth of battles non-stop every day, even if he would have more time between fights.
Several formations built into the stage and stands lit up in the moonlight, glowing softly at a brightness that was no less than the sun. At this point, the children who’d gone through their awakenings that morning had long since left and the city began to empty as caravans went home. Of course, it wasn’t required to leave before the tourney finished so several towns were still within the city, Crouching Grass included. Even if Feng Zhipei didn’t want to stay and watch his son’s performance, Feng Yaobei was unable to leave until he saw Jiao’s final placement.
So long as Jiao won his next match, he would progress to the final battle in the losing bracket and would, at the worst, rank third. Naturally, third was not Jiao’s goal. Only by winning the final battle of the losing bracket would he gain the right to challenge the first place position and fulfil his goal of winning the tourney. Along the way, regardless of whether or not Ma Heise lost a battle, Feng Jiao would get his chance for payback.
The smells of sizzling meats and strong ale slowly began wafting through the air as various vendors started to peddle their wares to the spectators. Thirty minutes later, the top bracket quarterfinals began as four boys took the stage. Unlike previous rounds, the stage was now split in half and would be fought two battles at a time. This way, the crowd could see more of the fighting and get more entertainment. It also benefited the many talent scouts, making it far easier for them to pay attention and, finally, gave the added advantage of giving competitors a few more minutes of rest time.
Jiao paid closer attention to the fighters this time than he had in the past, worried about running into another dark horse like Ma Heise. Heise managed to use his two whips to the limits of the weapon’s efficiency, at least as far as Jiao was concerned, once more and swiftly dispatched his opponent. The battle was nowhere near as intense as his fight against Feng Jiao had been and he couldn’t help but feel disappointed, a sentiment the crowd shared. Half the reason the fights had been split up, after all, was so that they could see more action.
During the second of the two fights, Feng Jiao managed to find someone else of interest. Another young boy who seemed to be about Jiao’s age, maybe a year or two older, was competing as well. Up until this point in the competition he’d still not used a weapon, swiftly dispatching opponents much larger than himself with nothing but his fists. Jiao was filled with the desire to battle him and, much to his pleasure, the boy won his battle and moved onto the semi-finals with no issues at all. The four losers were given thirty minutes to nurse their injuries and get back into fighting condition, or at least as close as they could after an entire day of fighting, before the losing bracket quarter-finals began.
Xin Lee stood in the arena once more and, very likely, for the last time that day. His father was a successful beast tamer and had spent more than enough capital on medicines and treatments to advance Lee’s cultivation since a young age. Even before he was able to cultivate, Lee had frequently been given baths of expensive herbs and crushed beast bones. He’d had combat tutors since he was six years old and had sparred with countless other young boys. He’d entered the tourney that day with no small amount of arrogance and confidence.
Shortly before arriving to the tourney, Lee had managed to break through to the sixth level of Mortal Awakening, a speed that far outpaced his father’s when he was that age. With all of these advantages under his belt, he was sure that first place would have been easy to obtain. It was no small secret, after all, that the noble children almost never subjected themselves to the battles. They either stayed home and cultivated faster or left for the sect alongside a sizable contribution when they were younger.
Then his last match happened. The quarterfinals could be said to be the goal for most competitors. So long as one reached the semifinals, they were guaranteed to be in the top ten, but the quarterfinal losers also had a very good chance of making it into the top ten. He’d been unlucky that day, however, and had been thoroughly demolished in his quarterfinal fight. The boy he went up against not only looked terrifying, with jet black hair and eyes so dark they seemed to suck away at one’s soul, but he’d even been dominating in his combat abilities.
Worst of all, after being trumped, whipped, and kicked about, the boy hadn’t even broken a sweat. Ma Heise, it was a name that Xin Lee would likely never forget. He’d introduced himself at the start of the battle and told Lee to prepare himself, stating that he’d never go easy on such an obvious silkpants. That Xin Lee was the type of cultivator he hated most, one that relied on superior resources and never dedicated themselves to the path of hallowed arts. He was right, though. Xin Lee had paid the minimum amount of attention to his tutors, hadn’t spent entire days training, and had taken everything his father had given him for granted.
After his defeat, as he was lying upon the ground moaning in pain and contemplating giving up on becoming a beast tamer like his father, the boy approached him. He wasn’t proud of it, but Xin Lee had instantly begun to backpedal and beg for mercy. He shouted that he conceded, screamed murderer, and even offered the boy money to stop beating him. Ma Heise had chuckled and looked down on him, leaving him with a bit of advice.
“You’ve already been defeated, so keep your silver. I only wanted to let you know to give up on the tourney here and now. Your next opponent is far beyond your capabilities. He will beat you far worse than I did, he has that ability. Don’t underestimate his looks, or his age, he is tens of times better a warrior than you.” Then he turned and walked away.
Now, thirty minutes and some change later, Xin Lee found himself standing in the ring looking at a young, girlish boy. He was so beautiful that, had Ma Heise not said several times that he was a he for sure, Lee would have taken him for a woman. The wind blew slowly, tossing the boy’s dark grey hair swirling in the air. Highlights of red and orange could be seen deep in the hair giving it a fiery gleam, like the dying embers of a bonfire. His skin, too, was an ideal, smooth and white as the moonlight illuminating it.
The gong sounded out, snapping Xin Lee out of his daze. The boy rolled his shoulders, cracking them audibly enough to make Lee swallow his spit, and leaned forward to dash in and attack. In the kid’s grey eyes, Lee could see no emotion at all and couldn’t help but think back on Ma Heise’s advice.
“No, no, no! I concede! I am not your match, I apologise for wasting your time but that’s enough for me I think. Hmm, yes. Quiet enough. Welp, have a good fight! Bye!” Xin Lee, like a professional coward, spouted out words at a million miles per minute even as he instantly leapt backwards off the stage, disqualifying himself. Under the boos of the crowd, Xin Lee promptly walked over to where his father was sitting and observed the disappointed look on his face.
“I’m sorry father, I’ve let you down. I truly was not a match for this boy, nor the one before him. I have slacked off in the past and taken your good will for granted, but no more! From this day forth, I shall strive to put my best foot forward and give you an heir that you will be proud of!” Xin Poe saw the determination in his son’s eyes and his disappointment washed away instantly.
All these years, Xin Poe had wanted nothing more than for his son to finally find his conviction and dedicate himself. Even if he didn’t want to become powerful, Poe wanted Lee to study and become a scholar, or a merchant, or maybe even a craftsmen. On this day, Xin Lee finally received the awakening call that his father had been praying for. The two of them left the stage with a new lease on life, completely ignoring the looks of scorn from the crowd who’d been cheated of yet another fight. Neither Heise nor Lee’s next opponent would ever realize was that on that day, their dual-pronged disgrace had led to the birth of their generation’s greatest beast tamer.
The Overseer in charge of that quarter looked down at the boy still in the ring and frowned. It was the second time that day that this specific kid had been given a victory due to concession. Although it may not sound like much, two such battles in a day where attrition played a large contributing factor in victory, well they mattered very much. Still, there was nothing to be done about it so the Overseer marked his name down as the winner and watched the boy leave.
Feng Jiao slowly walked out of the arena, feeling slightly cheated. He’d known that the battle would have been an easy victory but had intended to drag it out and refine his movements a little more. The lower winner couldn’t challenge the upper winner until the day after anyways, so Jiao wanted to get as much practice as he could.
In the stages, Nufang Mudan felt her heart flutter a little bit. She realized that Feng Jiao still had a chance to win his gender bracket and just a bit of guilty from wishing his loss slowly lifted itself from her shoulders. His father stood up and flagged down a salesmen to purchase two skins of wine and several meat skewers, ready to treat his son and raise his spirits as a full warrior was a better warrior.
Most happy of all about the quick resolution, however, was another grown man not too far away. The soul he’d lost slowly slipped itself back into his now bloodshot eyes as his mouth opened to reveal an ugly grin, one far too large for his face shape. Within his two hands were betting tickets, squeezed so hard it was a wonder they hadn’t been turned to dust, and his fists were shaking like he’d just survived an epic life or death battle.
“That’s my nephew! Keep it up, Feng Jiao! I knew you’d never let your favorite uncle become a pauper!” Feng Yaobei shouted over the various boys and girls that were cheering for Jiao’s victory, as he’d slowly become a fan favorite. Everybody around admired the love Yaobei had for his nephew and acknowledged him as the boy’s number one fan, completely glossing over the talk of pauperism in favor of the man’s excitement.
Comments
Metool
Tourney arcs are the death of shonen. Appreciate it not being drawn out.
Edward Castle
Thank you!
Bonobo
I totally agree with you about the fights. I can see how you can have an edge over the fight but from that to say he mastered the weapon... Loved the chapter! 👍
