Druidic Cultivation | Thirty-two

Taking a few weeks off work, should be able to pick up the writing pace a bit again. sorry for the last week and a half. I've never claimed to be a daily writer, but I had more issues than usual. If its a little messy call me out, I've been drinking a bit today

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Jiao was able to submit his name for the martial tourney without any major issues. The only sort-of hiccup he had was when the practitioner gave him a weird look after he marked down male on the submission. Weird look aside, the man said nothing at all because he was used to such actions, although usually in the reverse.

The tournament that was held semi-annually was a double elimination tournament that prioritized gender, males were paired against males first and females were paired against females. This was due to the difference in cultivation times due to ages, with females getting their awakening sooner than males more often. The practitioner had been doing this a while and he semi-frequently got males who selected female in order to get themselves in a more difficult fight and prove themselves. After looking at Feng Jiao’s age, he decided to let the little girl select a gender bracket that would be easier on her.

Jiao returned to the caravan site and informed his father that he’d signed up for the tournament. Zhipei’s first reaction was shock and worry but he quickly dispelled that after remembering his son’s performance against Lou and Nian back at the Feng family reunion. If his son thought he stood a chance, then he did. Regardless of his age or inexperience, Feng Zhipei believed wholeheartedly in his son’s capability. 

Jiao spent the next two days stabilizing his cultivation, acclimating himself and his fighting style to his seventh meridian. Every now and then, Cao and Jing would drop by to visit Jiao but would leave quickly when they saw how much effort he was putting in. The two of them were unsure why he was taking the competition so seriously but they knew in their hearts that it had something to do with them.

When morning of the awakening ceremony arrived, Feng Jiao continued to meditate as he got himself into his best fighting condition. The sun slowly crawled across the sky as the masses of children had their martial spirits awoken, pledged various sects, and sects postured against each other. It was only as the sun was almost directly over-head that Jiao finally opened his eyes and rushed out of the carriage he’d been sitting in, running straight over to the coliseum. 

He arrived just as the children were vacating the stages and the tourney was about to begin. All around Jiao he could see various teenagers with vicious looks in their eyes or wicked smiles. Interspersed were a few with grim looks, as if they feared everything about the competition, or no looks at all, vacantly staring at the stage as if the entire event had nothing to do with them. As Jiao stared, a woman took the stage and looked out at everyone before speaking. 

“Good afternoon, everybody. Now that the official awakening ceremony has concluded, it is time for the marital tourney to begin. As is tradition, various hopefuls below the age of fifteen will attempt to prove their aptitude and will to their would-be sects before leaving home and beginning their journeys. 

“As you look to your left and your right, young competitors, you will see that there are substantially less people here than were at your awakening. Each of you sits there ready to prove yourself, but you have already started to do exactly that. None of you feared leaving home so much it crippled you, feared a fight so much that you cowered, or gave up on your dreams to become a hallowed artist. 

“Each of you has taken the first step on the long journey that is the hallowed arts. Regardless of your performance, I am sure that you will all end up in one sect or another. That being said, quit your worrying and prepare yourself for the first challenge of your lifetime. The path of hallowed arts is littered with battles and death and this tourney will only be the first time you are tested, the first time of an infinite amount of times.” 

The woman took a break from talking for a moment as applause sounded out from the stands. Several children who had been amped to fight to begin with shouted their approval at her words and many of the teenagers who’d been freaking out calmed themselves down a bit, ready to try their hardest. Although they may not be accepted into the sect they’d pledged, they realized that it wouldn’t be the end of their journeys. Each child reaffirmed their will as they prepared for the fighting to begin. Only after the cheers quieted down once more did the woman continue her speech.

“Now that I’ve reassured you all, I am sure you can fight without worries weighing you down. Like always, the tourney will be a double elimination challenge. Males will be matched against males and females will be matched against females to start, with the top ten of each bracket pitted against each other at the end for final rankings. If you lose your first battle, you will be dropped into the losers bracket to fight your way back up to the top. The top three of the losers bracket may challenge any one of the top ten within their gender brackets in order to replace them as that number.

“If one of the top ten should lose their challenge from the loser bracket, their number will be pushed down by one. If you were number seven, you would be eight, were you one, you’d be two, and were you ten, you’d be gone. Do not strive to be top ten, be the best. Although Willow Mountain City will not reward the winner, various sects have already contributed prizes to the top five of the overall rankings, the winners of the mixed gender battles.”

“My name is Zhishi Shili and I will be one of the overseers for this battle. The battles will be fought either unarmed or with blunted training weapons. Should you need a weapon, for some reason, you may request a wooden training weapon from the garrison for the duration of the tournament. Without any more stalling, the overseers and I shall begin to list out the battle sequences.”
 A silence reigned over the stadium as the stages that Overseer Zhishi was standing upon lit up brightly. Black ink could be seen running across the marble stage, slowly forming into writing and brackets, blurred at first but slowly clearing up. Next to each bracket was a number which determined the order of the fights, with four of each number. 

The battles would be fought four at a time on different corners of the massive stage, Feng Jiao remembered from last time he’d been at the city, with translucent barriers separating each of the four battle sites. He quickly found his name next another boy he didn’t recognize and the number six. Mixed in with the names, Jiao managed to find a couple more Fengs but he didn’t pay too much attention to them. With his name located and only five fights until he’d be called up, Jiao rushed to weapon stands to request a staff.

Several people gave Feng Jiao disdainful looks and he rushed over, but he wasn’t the only one lacking a weapon. Each of the people looking down at Jiao thought that he’d not practiced with a weapon before and assumed he’d just grab the biggest looking one available. In combination with his age, Jiao’s lack of a weapon made him look like he was in way over his head. Sneers followed him.

From within the selection of training weapons, Jiao found a long staff that was relatively heavy. The weight wasn’t the same as his broken spear or his staff, but it was close enough that he was confident in his ability to use it. He wandered out of the weapon selection area and cast his gaze to the stage, surprised to see that the first round was still on going. Apparently, the other children did not share his love for quick battles.

The various teenagers were exchanging moves but not blows, dodging and swinging at each other. It took a second for Feng Jiao to realize but, apparently, they intended to drag on the time of each match to show their capabilities to the scouts who would decide whether or not to accept them into their sects. A sort of silent agreement had been met amongst most of the teenagers where none of them were too enthusiastic about finishing the match. Of course, there were always outliers.

In the time it took for Jiao to select a weapon, one of the four first matches had already been completed and Jiao could see the victor lording over the rest of the stage with an arrogant gaze. Obviously, the boy was from a wealthy family, as evident by his embroidered robes and high cultivation base. People like him didn’t have to worry about being accepted to a sect as they knew they could breeze through the first few matches with their superior cultivation bases and martial arts.

Jiao selected a seat in the first row and bided his time until the sixth set of matches began. He watched his various potential competitors and watched their combat styles, quickly noticing a trend. The wealthier competitors had powerful weapons that, although not leather, were capable of doing massive amounts of damage easily. Each of them fought with cultivation bases between step six and eight of mortal awakening. 

Although Jiao had not been at the awakening ceremony for these teenagers, and although they’d been cultivating for two-three years longer than him, he knew that they could only receive these results through extensive spending. Obviously, their families had exercised the Dao of pay to win, purchasing countless pills and formations to increase the speed in which each of their children could finish their awakening. With better weaponry and cultivation speeds, the wealthy children were dominating the competition.

Jiao’s family could be considered upper class but, as a member of a branch family, he had not benefited too much from his status. The Feng family’s rise to wealth had actually been a relatively recent event, within the last six generations or so, and he didn’t benefit from the thousands of years of history that many families in the kingdom did. If he wanted to win, Jiao was going to have to put his best forward when fighting those silk-pants.

Finally, the time for Feng Jiao’s battle came forth. He took the stage opposite a fifteen-year-old boy with broad shoulders and who stood a few inches taller than Feng Jiao. Strapped to his side was a dulled iron sword with a few engravings for decoration. The boy stood in front of Feng Jiao and laughed. 

“Who would have guessed that I, Jixiang Yun, would be blessed with a free win so early on? Before you even ask, little girl, I will not be going easy on you! You should have waited a few years before trying compete with grown men! You thought that competing against boys would be easier because we bloom later, but you ran right into a king of roses!” The burley boy laughed obnoxiously. Feng Jiao’s original plan of going easy on the boy went right out the window. Why should Jiao care about his prospective ranking if he was going to act this way.

Rather than reply with his words, Feng Jiao gave his opponent a slight nod. Jiao’s arrogance and refusal to exchange banter set Jixiang Yun on edge. The bigger boy scowled and withdrew his iron sword, ready for the match to begin. It was to his surprise and chagrin that Feng Jiao not only didn’t withdraw his staff but put it away, storing it in his ring. He opened his mouth to berate Jiao but realized it would only make him look worse, so he closely closed mouth and prepared for the fight.

A gong was struck, sending out a loud and reverberating noise to signal the beginning of round six. With a loud shout starting at his stomach, Jixiang Yun circulated Qi through all three of meridians that he’d connected to his dantian, shooting himself forward and swiping his iron blade with all the might he could muster. Although he was lowborn and had almost no resources to cultivate in the last two years since his awakening, he’d managed to reach the third step of his mortal awakening. Regardless of how wealthy the little girl in front of him was, she’d been cultivating for no more than a year. In his mind, Jixiang Yun had the entire advantage. 

His blade cleaved through the space where Feng Jiao had been standing with so much force that it sent him spinning. Yun staggered three steps before regaining his balance, searching the battlefield for his opponent who seemed to have vanished into thin air. As he searched, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. With a pivot, he swung his blade behind himself and turned, only for his blade to get pushed into the dirt.

Standing on top of his blade was the little girl who he had taken as an easy opponent. The child, five years younger and almost half the size of Jixiang Yun, was standing on top of the sword and glaring down at him. Yun’s eyes widened and Jiao’s hand descended, colliding with the older boy’s face in a vicious backhand slap. 

Jixiang Yun was knocked out instantly and Feng Jiao hopped backwards off the blade as it was dropped. Before the reverberation of the gong had even faded, the first of the four battles of match six, round one, was already finished. Feng Jiao bowed to the overseer in charge of his quadrant and stepped off the stage to return to his seat.