Chapter 8: Tournament

The tournament grounds were alive with noise—the cheers of spectators, the clash of fists and weapons, the low murmurs of betting and speculation. The scent of sweat and dirt filled the air, the sun casting long shadows over the elevated stone arena where the matches took place.

I sat with my arms crossed, watching the fights unfold. I never cared for tournaments—too rigid, too performative. Winning in front of an audience meant little to me. Strength wasn't about proving yourself in a ring; it was about survival, about breaking free from weakness.

But Yŭxuān watched with interest, his gaze sharp as he studied the movements of each competitor.

The semi-finals were up. The four remaining fighters stepped into the ring, their names whispered across the crowd like legends in the making.

Yúzé versus Bo-Dà.

Haoyu versus Xian Hun.

I leaned forward slightly, observing Haoyu as he stretched before his match. Something was off.

His breathing was uneven, too sharp. His fingers twitched slightly, his pupils slightly dilated. It was subtle, but I had spent years reading people, noticing the small things that others ignored.

And I had seen this before.

A stimulant.

A performance-enhancing drug.

For a brief moment, I considered saying something—but there was no proof. If I spoke out without evidence, I would be seen as making excuses for Xian Hun. So, I stayed silent and watched.

The match began.

Haoyu moved too fast. His attacks were sharper, stronger, almost unnatural. Xian Hun barely had time to react before he was forced on the defensive. The match was over in less than a minute—Haoyu struck a devastating blow to Xian Hun's ribs, sending him crashing into the ground.

Unnatural. Too quick. Too powerful.

The crowd roared, oblivious. No one else seemed to notice what I had seen.

Yŭxuān's expression darkened slightly. He wasn't naive—he had caught on as well. But like me, he said nothing.

The tournament continued.

———

A few hours later, the celebrations were in full swing. The victors were honored, the defeated nursed their wounds, and the elders congratulated the rising talents of the Huá clan.

Somehow, I ended up with alcohol in my hands.

Now, you might be wondering—how did that happen?

Well… let's rewind again.

———

A few moments Earlier.

The tournament grounds had emptied slightly, but the main hall was still alive with conversation. The victors of the day were being celebrated, and food and drinks were being passed around freely. Elders and warriors exchanged stories, their laughter echoing against the wooden beams of the grand hall.

I wasn't particularly interested in the festivities, but I remained seated, sipping on tea while observing the people around me. My little brother, Yŭxuān, sat beside me, his sharp eyes scanning the room, deep in thought. He hadn't spoken much since Haoyu's match, and I could tell he was still thinking about it.

Then, a familiar voice broke my focus.

"Jun! You look far too serious for someone at a celebration!"

I turned my head slightly and saw Qian Hao, the same Qian Hao I had watched fight years ago when I was a child. Now, he was seventeen, broader in the shoulders and more confident in his stance. He was holding a small ceramic flask, his grin unmistakable.

"I'm serious because I don't enjoy wasting time," I replied, raising a brow.

Qian Hao laughed. "Always acting like an elder, huh? Well, lighten up! Here, have a drink!" He extended the flask toward me.

I stared at it. I had never tasted alcohol before. In the Xuan Continent, drinking was only permitted at eighteen, and while it wasn't unusual for warriors to indulge earlier, it was still frowned upon.

Yŭxuān glanced at me, his expression unreadable.

"I don't drink," I said flatly.

"Come on, one sip won't kill you," Qian Hao pressed. "You're sixteen already. You fight like a man, act like a man—might as well drink like one."

I scoffed. "Drinking doesn't make you a man. Strength does."

But before I could push the flask away, someone else grabbed it.

Yŭxuān.

He held the flask lightly in his hands, looking at it with an expression of curiosity. Then, before I could stop him, he took a sip.

I blinked.

Qian Hao burst into laughter. "See? Your little brother is braver than you!"

Yŭxuān made a face, immediately regretting his decision as he coughed. "Tastes like rotten fruit."

Qian Hao laughed even harder. "That's the spirit!"

I sighed, rubbing my temples. "You're an idiot."

But now, the flask was already in my little brother's hands, and Qian Hao was watching me expectantly. If I didn't drink now, I would be the only one left out.

I glanced at Yŭxuān, who gave me a blank stare. "Might as well try it," he muttered.

I grabbed the flask and took a small sip.

Bitter. Sharp. Burned my throat.

I immediately regretted it.

Qian Hao clapped my back, grinning. "There you go! Now, let's get another flask!"

I should've left right then.

But I didn't.

———

Hours Later.

I sat on the wooden floor of one of the clan halls, regretting all of my life choices.

Yŭxuān, sitting beside me, didn't look much better. His face was slightly flushed, and he was staring off into the distance like he was contemplating the meaning of life.

"We are idiots," I muttered.

He nodded slowly. "Yeah."

The celebrations were still going strong, but I was no longer paying attention. I felt sluggish, my mind clouded. The warmth of the alcohol lingered in my veins, making everything feel slightly unreal.

Yŭxuān glanced at me. "How did we get here?"

I sighed. "Bad decisions."

He hummed in agreement. "You know… for a drink that makes people act like fools, a lot of warriors really love it."

"Because they're fools."

He chuckled. "Maybe. But it does make things feel… lighter. Like nothing matters."

I glanced at him.

Nothing matters, huh?

For a brief moment, I thought about all the things I had been pushing aside. The endless training, the pressure of living up to our father's expectations, the pursuit of immortality.

If nothing mattered, would life be easier?

I pushed the thought away.

I stood up, stretching. "We need to sober up before our father finds out."

Yŭxuān groaned, dragging himself to his feet. "Yeah… Let's never do this again."

"Agreed."

Of course, I had a feeling we would regret those words in the future.