Useless Trinkets

Meanwhile, the Fox Lord in question had long since departed the Bestiary Division's premises, flying directly to the bustling main island of the sect. 

At Forgotten Waters sect's largest floating island, an important tournament was currently taking place. 

The sun was glaringly bright. A deafening roar could be heard from the crowds as they cheered for their respective divisions. Many visitors from far away had arrived, and mingled with the rest of the sect disciples. The place was an infested pile of rambunctious, overzealous mortals, reeking with sweat.

Bai Qingyue wrinkled his small nose in disgust, avoiding the large crowd as tactfully as possible.

The tournament was a long-standing tradition that had existed for hundreds of years. Besides the sect disciples who were privileged enough to witness the event, only the highest-ranked martial heroes of the pugilistic world were permitted to attend.