Chapter 300: The Gong of Start

Chapter 300: Chapter 300: The Gong of Start

The 32 teams stood assembled in concentric circles across the vast arena floor.

The energy of their combined presence created a massive, swirling tempest of elemental Qi in the sky above.

Wind and fire. Water and earth. Lightning and light.

They twisted together into a storm that blotted out the sun.

The crowd watched in silence.

Grand Marshal Vane stood at the northern pillar.

Before him sat the colossal ancient bronze gong.

It was taller than a man and wider than a carriage. Runes covered its surface, glowing with dormant power.

Vane raised his gauntleted fist.

The arena held its breath.

He swung.

The impact was not a sound.

It was a force.

A divine, soul-shaking chime rolled across the entire continent.

It echoed through Solaris City, through the surrounding provinces, through the mountains and valleys beyond.

Every cultivator within a thousand miles felt it in their bones. Every mortal stopped and looked toward the capital.

The gong’s resonance did not fade.

It hung in the air like a physical presence.

Vane’s voice erupted across the arena.

"THE EASTERN CONTINENT TOURNAMENT HAS BEGUN!"

The crowd exploded.

A roar of fifty thousand voices rose from the stands. Flags waved. Drums beat. The energy in the air intensified until it felt like the arena itself was breathing.

Damon stood at the head of the Azure Dragon formation.

His golden eyes swept across the arena.

The other sects were watching.

The Vermilion Bird Sect. The White Tiger Sect. The Black Tortoise Sect. The Crimson Eclipse Sect. The Nameless Sect.

All of them.

They were measuring him.

Weighing him.

Deciding if he was a threat or prey.

Damon smiled.

The central projection array flashed.

Blinding golden light erupted from the massive crystal disc suspended above the arena floor. It spun, displaying the 32 sect crests in a blur of color and motion.

The crowd fell silent.

The crests rotated faster.

Then they stopped.

The golden light locked onto two crests.

The first crest was a coiled azure dragon.

The second crest was a black mountain peak split by a silver vein.

Azure Dragon Sect vs. The Iron Mountain Sect.

The first match of Round 1.

The crowd erupted again.

Damon turned to his women.

Ariel stood beside him, her hand resting on The Trident. Her vivid blue eyes were calm, focused, ready.

Mio and Mia flanked her, their auras coiled like predators waiting to strike.

Seraphina stood behind them, her Azure Dragon Bloodline humming beneath her skin.

Flare cracked her neck, her Phoenix Bloodline flickering in her eyes.

Alena checked her pouch of pills, her expression clinical and composed.

Lumina stood at the edge of the formation, her golden eyes fixed on the royal box where her father sat.

Selene stood at the rear of their formation, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword.

They were ready.

Every single one of them.

Their auras pulsed beneath the surface of their skin, coiled and waiting like serpents poised to strike.

Damon looked at them.

He let his gaze travel slowly across each face.

Ariel, standing tall with The Trident in her hands, her vivid blue eyes fixed on the Iron Mountain team.

Mio and Mia, flanking her like twin shadows, their deep purple eyes gleaming with predatory anticipation.

Seraphina, calm and still as the eye of a storm, her hand resting on her curved blade.

Flare, cracking her neck, her Phoenix Bloodline flickering behind her sharp orange eyes.

Alena, checking her pill pouch with clinical precision, her forest-green gaze already calculating the Iron Mountain team’s weaknesses.

Lumina, standing at the edge of the formation, her golden eyes locked on the royal box where her father sat.

Then he smirked.

It was an alluring smirk.

A confident smirk.

A smirk that said I know what I’m doing.

A smirk that said I have already won.

The crowd felt it.

The Iron Mountain team felt it.

The entire arena felt it.

He reached out and tapped Ariel’s shoulder. His fingers brushed the silk of her robe, and she shivered at the contact.

"You’re up first," he said.

His voice was calm. Steady. Certain.

It carried no doubt.

No hesitation.

Only absolute, unshakable conviction.

"Show the Eastern Continent what true power looks like."

Ariel’s eyes widened.

The deep blue of her irises shimmered, catching the light of the projection array above. For a single, suspended heartbeat, she was still.

Then she smiled.

It was a radiant smile.

A dangerous smile.

A smile that promised devastation.

She turned and stepped forward.

The crowd watched.

The Iron Mountain Sect team stared at her from across the arena.

Their leader was a mountain of a man, broad-shouldered, thick-armed, with a face like carved granite.

He wore heavy armor and carried a tower shield the size of a door.

Damon watched Ariel step forward, his golden eyes tracing the confident set of her shoulders.

She moved with the grace of flowing water, each step deliberate and unhurried.

The Iron Mountain leader threw his head back and laughed, the sound booming across the arena like thunder rolling through a canyon.

"A little girl?" he bellowed, his voice carrying to every corner of the stands.

"They send a little girl to face us first?"

His team joined in, their laughter harsh and grating.

The mountain of a man gestured crudely toward Ariel, his tower shield resting against his shoulder like it weighed nothing.

Ariel did not react.

Her expression remained serene, untouched by their mockery.

She continued her steady advance toward the center of the arena floor, her dark blue hair catching the wind and streaming behind her like a banner of war.

The Trident gleamed in her small hands, its azure light pulsing in rhythm with her heartbeat.

The Iron Mountain leader’s laughter faded as he watched her approach.

His granite-carved face shifted into a scowl.

He stepped forward to meet her, his heavy boots thudding against the stone, each impact sending tremors through the ground.

The arena fell silent.

Every cultivator in the stands leaned forward, holding their breath. The weight of thousands of eyes pressed down on the arena floor.

Grand Marshal Vane stood at the edge of the stage, his burning gaze tracking both fighters with predatory intensity. He raised his hand, and the silence deepened.

"This is the first match of Round 1," he announced, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "The Azure Dragon Sect stands against the Iron Mountain Sect."

He paused, letting the tension build.

Then his hand sliced downward.

"Begin."