A few days passed while cultivators across the land began to make preparations. Some left their secluded sects, others left their minor clans, all heading toward Tan City—drawn by the rare opportunity of witnessing or participating in an auction that featured 100% pure Spirit master cores
Meanwhile...
In a long, luxurious hall draped in silken banners and golden pillars, a man and a woman sat atop an elevated throne. Both held an aura of quiet majesty—his presence commanding, hers dignified and graceful.
The man's brow furrowed as the sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the grand corridor.
An elderly guard, dressed in ceremonial armor and wearing a noticeably anxious expression, knelt at the base of the throne.
He bowed deeply, his voice tense but respectful.
"Your Majesties... We've discovered the princess's whereabouts."
The moment those words left his lips, the expressions on the man and woman shifted drastically.
Shock.
Worry.
Their eyes widened.
Since the mysterious catastrophe that struck the world weeks ago, their daughter had gone missing without a trace. No word, no sign.
Now, finally, news.
The loyal guard, one of the Empire's most trusted, continued with a wry smile and a heavy heart.
"It appears that… She has gone near to thar Cursed Forest—or at least, the area surrounding it."
"W-What?!" The Emperor rose to his feet, his voice trembling. "She didn't enter it, did she?! T-Tell me she didn't!!"
"N-No, Your Majesty. It doesn't seem so. According to our men… she has simply been standing near the outer border. Lost in thought. Unmoving. For days now…"
The Emperor's eyes burned with resolve.
"Immediately! Send the most loyal shadow guards to her side! It's the first time she's left her sect since she entered it... I don't know what's happening with her, but don't let so much as a scratch come to my precious daughter!"
The kneeling guard thumped his chest and bowed lower.
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
As he turned to leave, a soft, slender hand gently brushed against the Emperor's cheek. It was the Empress a bit worried for him.
She didn't say a word—but he understood.
"I know…" he muttered. "She's not a child anymore. But she's still so… pure. Too innocent for this world. Always trying to help others…"
The Empress's eyes softened.
"Even though she is as kind-hearted and pure, she doesn't let anyone use her... You know... how cold she is despite the sweet and warm she radiates everywhere, She is even cold to us sometimes..."
"Mn… you're right. But ever since she left her sect, I can't stop thinking about her. Can't shake this feeling..."
The Empress shook her head his husband was always like this too worried, She too cared as much as him, but she believed she would be safe.
Just then, a teasing glint danced in her gaze.
'hehe.. I know exactly what you need right now to ease that stress of yours.'
"Hmm?"
The Emperor blinked, clearly confused, as the Empress leaned in, her lips brushing the edge of his ear.
She began to whisper, her sultry lips opened.
"...!!!"
A gulping sound echoed through to hall just then all the doors and ways to enter the hall were closed by formations, leaving just the two.
Meanwhile...
Deep underground—far beneath the surface of Tan City—lay a vast, dimly lit arena.
The ceiling stretched high above, lost in shadows, while in the center, an enormous stone stadium stood like a monstrous coliseum. Faint torches flickered along the cracked walls, casting eerie golden light. The scent of blood, rust, and sweat lingered in the stagnant air.
In one of the upper-level cages, a young man stirred.
His clothes were torn and stained, dried blood marked his sleeves and face.
Xiao Yang slowly opened his eyes.
"…Ughhh… my whole body aches…" he groaned in pain, managing to sit up. His muscles screamed, and his ribs ached with every breath.
His head swirled as fragmented memories rushed back.
What happened…? Where…?
Then suddenly—
Flash.
The memory struck like lightning.
"Tan Shao…!!"
A surge of annoyance flickered in his chest, followed by a sharp glint of fury in his gaze.
"What an unreasonable guy!!" he muttered aloud. "Why the hell did he even beat me?! Just because I refused his stupid demand?"
Before he could spiral deeper into thought, a voice called out.
"Woah! You're awake?"
The voice came from the cage directly across from him.
A middle-aged man, thin but sharp-eyed, leaned against the bars with a crooked grin. "I thought you wouldn't wake up for at least a few more days—considering how badly you were beaten."
He tilted his head curiously.
"Just what did you do to end up like that, young fellow?"
"I'm asking myself the same thing," Xiao Yang muttered. "Some bastard beat me up just because I didn't give him my cultivation room. That was it. No more, no less."
The man raised a brow.
"...You're kidding, right? Just that?"
"I wish I was."
The middle-aged cultivator scratched his chin, then asked the obvious question.
"Alright, then… Who did you offend?"
"Offend…?"
Xiao Yang frowned slightly. Since when did simply standing your ground count as offending someone…?
Still, he answered.
"...Tan Shao."
The words left his mouth with visible irritation. His bruised ribs made sure he hadn't forgotten.
The middle-aged man froze for a second… and then suddenly burst into laughter.
"Hahaha! The city lord's brat, huh!? Well, it's your own damn fault for not obeying him—with your weak little self!" the middle-aged man cackled, shaking his head.
"What are you talking about?" Xiao Yang frowned. "Why should I obey someone!" Just saying that left a bitter taste in his mouth. Obeying…? The word felt wrong, like chains wrapping around his will.
The man stared at him as if he were a child.
"Are you stupid or something?! You obey because you're weak, and he's strong!"
He slammed his palm against the iron bars, voice rising.
"Think about it. What did he lose for beating you? Nothing. What did he gain? Satisfaction. Power. Entertainment." He snorted. "And what did you get? Broken bones and a one-way trip to this filthy hole."
Xiao Yang stayed silent.
The man leaned closer, eyes narrowing.
"That's how the world works, kid. The strong do whatever they want. The weak just get used to it—or die."
His words echoed. And while Xiao Yang didn't respond, something inside him stirred. Emotions. Fragments. A dull ache at the back of his mind, as if pieces of himself, lost memories, were shifting ever so slightly.
He shook his head, trying to clear it.
"…Where am I?" he finally asked.
The man clicked his tongue.
"You're in The Hollow Pit."
Xiao Yang blinked. "The Hollow Pit…?"
"It's the city's little secret playground. The place where criminals, or anyone Tan family want to get rid of, get thrown underground to rot."
His voice turned darker.
"Every week, they drag out the prisoners, whether they deserve it or not, and throw them into death matches. It's entertainment for the rich bastards of the city. The noble families bet on us like we're spirit beasts in a cage."
He gave a humorless chuckle.
"Doesn't matter if you're innocent or not. Once you're in here… you fight. Or you die."
"Is there a way to leave?" Xiao Yang asked, his voice calm—almost too calm for someone in his situation.
The middle-aged man raised a brow.
"Leave?" he echoed, then let out a short, humorless laugh.
"Heh… sure. It's easy."
His grin stretched unnaturally wide.
"You just have to win ten death matches in a row."
Xiao Yang didn't flinch. No gasp. No panic.
Just a soft breath is drawn through his nose as if he were listening to a weather report and not a death sentence.
"I see… Then when is mine going to happen?"
That calm tone again. The man's grin only deepened.
"You were thrown 3 days ago..."
Xiao Yang blinked once. "Just 4 days, huh…"
He didn't yell. Didn't break down.
But deep inside, a tightness began to form in his chest. Not fear—something else.
Urgency.
"Then I need to start" he said matter-of-factly. "I have to grow stronger..."
"Of course," the man nodded, still entertained.
"Everyone tries. Everyone clings to whatever thread of life they can find. Cultivation, trying to comprehend combat techniques and so on, anything to stay alive for the next fight."
Xiao Yang nodded slightly and sat cross-legged. His stomach ached faintly from hunger, and his Qi reserves were thin as air. But strangely, there was no desperation. Only clarity.
"…Then why aren't you doing anything?" he asked, glancing at the man.
The man chuckled lowly.
"Hehehe… because I've already won nine times," he said, his voice shifting ever so slightly.
"One more, and I'm out."
Suddenly, a ripple of spiritual pressure surged out from his body. Xiao Yang's body tensed instinctively as he felt it.
6th level of Spirit Intermediate.
"And my final match… is against some Spirit Elementary brat."
A pause.
The air seemed to chill.
Slowly, Xiao Yang opened his eyes—and met the man's gaze.
Gone was the lazy grin.
Now, his eyes glowed with bloodlust, sharp and hungry like a beast staring down its next kill.
"That… is YOU!"