Then, at a point I judged to be about five miles distant from the stair, the mountain forest ceased, giving way to barren, rocky terrain. It was high noon, and I could sense battles all around me—a few duels, and an equal or greater number of skirmishes involving anywhere from three to over a dozen people—without even trying. The collective spiritual pressure from them necessitated my raising my own soul barrier just to pass by. They acted wary of me, most of the fighters unwilling to complicate their own battles by provoking me to join in.
Most of them, that is. After a short while of cautiously advancing, I spotted a tall, muscular pair fighting directly in my path, having at each other with long clubs. They were both of the Fifth Spirit Realm, which might have made them overconfident against me. As I continued to approach, they suddenly turned toward me, shouted "Get lost!" and slammed their clubs into the ground.
