Yoshino Yuki faced off his third opponent for the day. A young man wielding a spear made of blue lightning. That young man was one of the disciples of the Tree of Stalwart Amber. One of their Tree of Passionate Verdance’s sibling sects within the middle-realm.

Yuki could only sigh as his mind processed and then promptly discarded this information. The mostly friendly relationship between their sects would do him no good here. Here in this arena, in this moment of time, it was all men and all sects for themselves.

Only a scant 100 out of the 1000 rankers drawn from the first half of the ten-year tournament would receive glory and praise. The rest would just be forgotten, and/or buried. The stakes were just that high for the sects and the combatants.

The sects used this tournament to replace the countless wars and skirmishes they might otherwise be having. The combatants needed to win to rise above all their rivals and peers. That was the kind of situation Yuki found himself in. That was the kind of chance and opportunity Yuki had fought so hard to grasp with his own hands.

Yuki leaned backward and rolled out of the way of a spear thrust that carried thunderous winds with it. Yuki then quickly jumped back onto his feet and fired at the other man, using his Monocle of the Seer.

The hunting rifle’s scope not only allowed him to see things that normal eyes couldn’t catch, it could also allow him to see a few seconds into the future. Thus allowing Yuki to play his opponent’s to death, firing at the spots that they’ll move to, and having them dance in the palm of his hand.

Or at least, it “should” have been that easy. Yuki’s gaze was filled with ghosts, phantoms of possible futures. All he needed to do was wait for a ghost to start to grow more concrete, for him to know where to fire.

All the audience would see was the young men fighting, with Yuki managing to strike at where his target would be, every time. The only problem being that in this world, and at their level, there was a multitude of techniques that allowed one to move faster than bullets, and even more techniques that allowed one to quickly recover from, or resist, the damage of a gunshot wound.

Thus Yuki’s battle became a desperate one. He fired while retreating. Meanwhile, his opponent did his best to try and get to Yuki before the chip damage that Yuki’s rifle was able to inflict on the young man, finally accumulated to a point that the young man couldn’t manage.

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A few hours later, in another match. The crowd found themselves facing quite the strange sight. The two combatants had seemingly turtles up. Using either energy techniques, or simple protective charms to protect and conceal themselves. Creating a surreal scene from out of an old-world fighting game. Where both parties were crouched low, and guarding, while desperately mashing the low-kick button.

Hong Soomin found herself facing a foe much larger and much stronger than she was. She’d bet a hundred spirit crystals that this tall, broad-bodied, whoreson before her, had a little ogre blood in him. His body was big, his muscles were bulge, and his skin was thick in all senses of the word. This bastard had the nerve to be as big and strong as he was, and yet he still fought quite cheaply. For Hong Soomin, this was a truly galling experience.

Fortunately, Hong Soomin had a backup plan. Since staying low and fighting defensively clearly wasn’t going to work, Hong Soomin decided to go for broke. She started to get a little “reckless”. Throwing herself at her opponent to ease the big turtle out of his shell.

Then when the moment was right, she teleported several dozen feet into the air, staying right within the threshold where technically she could count as having ringed herself out. She did this repeatedly to prolong her fall. Then when she’d reached terminal velocity she teleported back down, right behind the big man’s head. Making a nice hearty thunk on his skull with her scoundrel’s tonfa.

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Zhou Weifen and Yin Qing faced one another. Zhou Weifen cupped her fist and bowed. Yin Qing did the same. With over 1000 members of the myriad sects facing one another via a sequence of elimination rounds. It was inevitable that some folk from the same sects would find themselves matched against their sect-mates.

In the case of the Tree of Passionate Verdance, and the Tree of Stalwart Amber, those instances had happened a little too often for Zhou Weifen and Yin Qing to avoid feeling that there was some foul play present, however since none of the elders had said anything. The two would have to fight.

Zhou Weifen manifested her core-treasure, bringing out her flaming, phoenix-feather sword. Each swing of her blade carried the blistering heat of the desert and the broiling winds of summer. Yin Qing summoned her core-treasure the Quiver of Autumn.

A quiver of arrows that could either be fired from the bow she always carried, or controlled and manipulated with spirit energy like a fleet of flying swords. Zhou Weifen prepared to battle her old friend and found that she wasn’t as bitter about the experience as she’d expected it to be. It would be nice to see how strong her sister in all but name, and blood, had become.

The tournament official announced the start of the match and the battle started in earnest. With an expenditure of her will and spiritual essence, and a flick of her wrist, Yin Qing’s arrows fell like rain. Zhou Weifen danced between the arrows, repelling the arrows she couldn’t avoid completely using her sword.

Then with deft work, Zhou Weifen was able to quickly close the distance between herself and Yin Qing. Then with a single swing of her sword, Zhou Weifen drew first blood. Cutting Yin Qing’s sleeves and drawing blood.

Yin Qing managed to get her own strike in with two of her arrows grazing Zhou Weifen’s shoulder. Zhou Weifen attempted to trip Yin Qing up with a low-kick and leg sweep, and when that failed she went for a spinning high kick. The two young women began a brutal melee, as their clash grew closer.

Zhou Weifen’s fists fell like meteors devastating the primordial age. Yin Qing’s palm strikes were hail, shattering a glass palace, and a tornado tearing the plainland apart. The spiralling, circular, movements of Yin Qing’s arms and hands made her strikes hard to avoid, or anticipate.

The two only parted ways when Yin Qing attempted a joint-lock, and Zhou Weifen was able to fling her away at the last moment. Then the core-treasures came back out and the clash began again. Bruised and bleeding as they were, both women smiled like feral beasts as they pummelled and tore at one another to applause, screams, and cheering of the crowd.