Chapter 8:The Tournament Begins... A Rising Name
The day of the Outer Disciple Tournament arrived, and the sect was buzzing with energy.
Hundreds of disciples, elders, and even a few inner disciples gathered in the grand Martial Arena, eager to witness the fights.
Zhao Feng, now wearing the new robe I designed, stood near the waiting area, stretching his arms.
I could already hear whispers in the crowd.
"Who is that?"
"I don't recognize him… but his presence feels different."
"That robe… it's not a standard sect uniform, is it?"
I smirked. Perfect.
The first match was about to begin, and Zhao Feng wasn't just here to fight..... he was here to be remembered.
.....
The Outer Disciple Tournament.
☞... A proving ground where disciples fought to showcase their strength, earn recognition, and secure a chance at promotion.
For most, it was a way to climb the ranks. For Zhao Feng?
This was his first step toward proving himself.
And for me?
It was my first real test.... not as a fighter, but as a designer in this world.
Would my work hold up in the heat of battle?
.....
The Grand Arena
The Martial Arena was built into the heart of the sect, a vast stone platform surrounded by towering walls where elders, senior disciples, and spectators gathered.
The air buzzed with anticipation, and the scent of stone, sweat, and excitement filled my lungs as I found a spot near the back.
Hundreds of outer disciples stood near the waiting area, each one either stretching, meditating, or throwing hostile glances at their competitors.
Zhao Feng, wearing my newly designed robe, adjusted his sleeves and rolled his shoulders.
I caught sight of his opponent.....Ren Haoran, a broad-shouldered disciple with a bo staff strapped to his back.
I leaned in slightly, studying the matchup.
Ren Haoran wasn't bad. He had a solid foundation, good reach, and disciplined footwork.
Zhao Feng was faster, but only if he fought intelligently.
This would be interesting.
...
A Designer's Perspective
From where I stood, I could hear murmurs from the crowd.
"That robe… It looks different from the standard sect uniform."
"Who made it? It actually suits him well."
"Looks expensive."
A few inner disciples had even turned their heads toward Zhao Feng.
That was good. Attention was everything.
The sect was a place where power dictated respect, but appearance shaped perception.
Even before throwing a single punch, Zhao Feng had already shifted the way people viewed him.
I smirked. Phase one: complete.
...
The First Fight
The elder overseeing the tournament stepped forward, his voice booming across the arena.
"First match! Zhao Feng versus Ren Haoran!"
Zhao Feng exhaled and stepped forward.
Ren Haoran did the same, cracking his knuckles before unsheathing his bo staff with a practiced motion.
A slow grin spread across his face. "I hope you're ready to bleed."
Zhao Feng rolled his shoulders. "I hope you're ready to lose."
The elder raised his hand. "Begin!"
.....
A Battle of Speed vs. Range
Ren Haoran struck first.
His bo staff blurred, whipping forward in a fast, controlled arc aimed at Zhao Feng's ribs.
Most people would have been caught off guard.
Zhao Feng?
He was already moving.
I had designed his robe to be lightweight, eliminating excess drag while allowing full freedom of movement.
And it showed.
He sidestepped smoothly, letting the staff pass just inches from his torso before pivoting on his back foot.
Then, without hesitation..... he closed the gap.
Ren Haoran's eyes widened. He tried to retreat, but Zhao Feng was already inside his guard.
A sharp palm strike to the chest sent him stumbling backward.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
.....
The Power of Perception
I watched as elders and disciples leaned forward, suddenly far more invested in the match than before.
Zhao Feng had always been an eager fighter, but now?
Now, he looked like a warrior.
And that was the difference.
Perception dictated how opponents reacted to you.
If you looked like a nobody, people fought you recklessly.
But if you looked like someone strong.... even if you weren't..... they hesitated.
That single moment of hesitation?
It was lethal.
...
Victory in Three Moves
Ren Haoran recovered quickly, spinning his staff into a low sweep aimed at Zhao Feng's legs.
But Zhao Feng, now fully in rhythm, jumped over it with ease.
As he landed, his footwork shifted, his new robe flowing fluidly, making his movements seem faster and more refined.
Then, in a flash..... he struck.
A sharp knee to the gut followed by a spinning elbow to the jaw.
Ren Haoran's body collapsed to the ground.
The arena fell silent.
The elder stepped forward, checking Ren Haoran's condition.
Then, raising his hand, he declared the winner.
"Zhao Feng wins!"
...
Whispers in the Crowd
The moment the fight ended, the murmurs began.
"That was… fast."
"Since when was Zhao Feng this strong?"
"It's not just strength, his entire aura feels different."
"That robe… that movement… Who made his equipment?"
I leaned back against the stone wall, suppressing a satisfied grin.
They were noticing. Perfect.
But Zhao Feng's fight was only the first step.
I still had bigger plans ahead.
For now, though?
I enjoyed the small victory.
....