The air around him dropped twenty degrees, the anticipation of violence practically vibrating off his skin.
He was going to take care of that prickling annoyance, Mo Wuchen. And he was going to do it in front of the entire sect.
The tournament had officially begun, and the Celestial Sword Sect was entirely unprepared for the sheer, unapologetic chaos that was about to unfold in the rings
.
.
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The Jade Terrace had been transformed into a theater of martial supremacy.
Four colossal arenas, paved with obsidian-black spirit-stone and enclosed by shimmering, translucent domes of protective Qi, dominated the plaza.
The thousands of disciples who had been eliminated or were waiting their turn filled the elevated spectator stands, their cheers and murmurs blending into a continuous, deafening roar that vibrated in the chest of everyone present.
