Xuan Jing stirred awake, his eyelids heavy as he took in the dim light of the storage shed. He felt the dull ache in his limbs, the kind that came after pushing himself too far, but the warmth from the blankets and the faint scent of spicy food in the air grounded him. Jiăn Lí and Feng Hao, seated nearby, immediately perked up as they noticed him moving.
"Finally awake, huh?" Jiăn Lí muttered, his tone casual, though a hint of relief edged his words. He reached over and handed Xuan Jing a container of still-warm Mapo tofu, the extra pepper practically steaming off the top. "Eat up. You'll need it."
Xuan Jing said nothing, merely nodding as he accepted the container. He ate with a quiet focus, each bite slow and deliberate. Feng Hao and Jiăn Lí watched him carefully, their gazes occasionally meeting in silent communication. They had a hundred questions, but they knew better than to ask right now.
When Xuan Jing finished the last bite, he set the container down and finally glanced up at them. "Thanks," he said, his voice low and hoarse. Jiăn Lí opened his mouth to press further, but Feng Hao elbowed him subtly, giving him a look that said to let it go. They would get their answers eventually—Xuan Jing always talked when he was ready.
Without another word, Xuan Jing stood and headed back out into the cold, his pace steady despite the lingering weariness in his body. Jiăn Lí and Feng Hao exchanged another look, then quickly fell into step behind him. They followed him back to the arena, the snow crunching beneath their boots as they walked.
---
Xuan Jing settled into a seat in the viewing area of the arena, sinking into the cold stone bench with a sigh. Jiăn Lí took a spot on his left, Feng Hao on his right, the two of them pressing close like a protective barrier on either side. It was almost comical, how they flanked him, like they were keeping the world from getting too close. Xuan Jing shot them a sideways glance but said nothing, letting them sit there like overprotective guards.
In front of them, the arena's frost-covered grounds shimmered in the pale light of the lanterns. The remnants of the previous battle still lingered—bloodstains in the snow, cracks in the ice where powerful strikes had landed. It was quieter now, but the air still buzzed with the energy of the earlier fight, like the ground itself was holding its breath.
Xuan Jing leaned back, letting the chill seep into his bones as he replayed the events in his mind. Guŏ Suàn was strange—too strange. But there would be time to unravel that mystery later.
---
Meanwhile, in the meeting room, Qiān Xiǎo leaned back in her chair, her laughter filling the space like the crackling of a fire. Her sharp grin cut through the tension as she pointed at Róng Míngxiù, who sat across from her, arms crossed and lips pulled into a tight, frustrated line.
"Damn, Róng, you really let that one slip, huh?" Qiān Xiǎo's voice was teasing, but there was a dangerous edge to it, like a cat playing with a cornered mouse. "Can't believe you lost in front of all those spectators. Bet it stings, doesn't it?"
Róng Míngxiù shot her a glare, her jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth. But then, with a sudden exhale, she relaxed, leaning forward with a smirk that mirrored Qiān Xiǎo's. "Yeah, laugh it up, Qiān Xiǎo. You know, they say you're only as good as your last fight," she said, her tone cutting. "Guess that makes you the biggest winner in the room, doesn't it?"
Qiān Xiǎo's grin widened. "Oh, I am, aren't I? But let's focus on the real stars of the show—Xuan Jing, Feng Hao, Jiăn Lí... Even Guŏ Suàn put on a hell of a performance, until he got his lights knocked out." She flicked a glance toward the door, as if expecting Xuan Jing to walk in any second. "It's not every day you see that kind of chaos in the ring."
Róng Míngxiù waved a hand dismissively, but her smirk didn't fade. "Sure, but let's not forget Mei Xue and Fù Rèn. Those two were no pushovers. Fù Rèn with that Obsidian Earth of hers, slicing through everything like a knife through butter... And Mei Xue with those ice storms, like she was painting the battlefield with snow."
Qiān Xiǎo arched an eyebrow, leaning forward with a gleam in her eye. "Yeah, but they didn't quite have that *oomph* like our little showstopper Xuan Jing. I mean, did you see how he took Guŏ Suàn down? Made it look like he was swatting a fly."
Róng Míngxiù chuckled darkly. "Maybe, but Xuan Jing has his own issues. Collapsing like that... makes you wonder what's really going on with him, doesn't it?"
The air between them grew tense, like the room itself was holding its breath. Qiān Xiǎo's smile faded slightly, her gaze sharpening. "Yeah. Guess we'll find out soon enough."
---
Back at the arena, Xuan Jing sensed a shift in the air, a subtle tension that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He glanced sideways at Jiăn Lí, who met his gaze with a questioning look, then at Feng Hao, who shrugged but kept his focus on the entrance to the meeting room.
As the door swung open and the proctor's voice echoed out, calling for the competitors to gather, Xuan Jing pushed himself to his feet, his expression unreadable. Jiăn Lí and Feng Hao rose beside him, flanking him once again, their presence a steady, unspoken reassurance.
As they stepped into the meeting room, Qiān Xiǎo's eyes lit up with amusement, her grin returning as she locked onto Xuan Jing. "Well, well, look who's back from the dead. Had a nice nap, Xuan Jing?"
Xuan Jing rolled his eyes, his lips twitching into a wry smile. "Yeah, best one I've had in a while. Now, what's this about prizes?"
Qiān Xiǎo's laughter echoed through the room as she gestured for the competitors to gather around. "Prizes, indeed. Let's see... How about we start with the biggest ass-whooper of the day?" She shot a pointed look at Róng Míngxiù, whose smirk remained but her eyes flashed with irritation.
Róng Míngxiù crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair with a huff. "Yeah, yeah, just give them their damn awards. But don't think for a second this changes anything, Qiān Xiǎo. Next time, I'll take you down myself."
Qiān Xiǎo's smile turned wicked, her gaze locking onto Róng Míngxiù with a challenge. "Oh, I'm counting on it."
Xuan Jing, standing between Feng Hao and Jiăn Lí, couldn't help but smirk at the scene. There was something almost entertaining about the way they all danced around each other, rivals and allies tangled in a web of ambition and ego.
As the proctor cleared his throat, preparing to announce the awards, Xuan Jing's thoughts drifted back to Guŏ Suàn's strange presence, the way his element had twisted the memories of his mother. He clenched his fists at his sides, forcing his expression to remain neutral as he stared at the proctor.