The day of the tournament dawned bright and clear. Excitement had been building for a year, rising steadily through the previous week until it could climb no higher. The prize alone would have drawn crowds, but the announcement that several Nascent Soul cultivators would preside over the whole affair, and that a new island had been raised solely to host the event, had pushed anticipation into something close to frenzy. Had Ancestor Qing and the Song clan not enforced strict limits on spectators, the new island would likely have become the most crowded place in the Thousand Shattered Islands within hours.
Mo Jian and Bai Ning were now flying toward that island. They sat upon the expanded Heaven Enshrouding Ding, its surface restored to perfect smoothness, watching the slow drift of sky above and the steady roll of sea below.
Generally, Bai Ning was always happy to talk, but today a sort of nervous excitement seemed to have taken hold of her, and she responded by going quiet. In a way, Mo Jian shared that same anxiety. They were heading toward an event that had the potential to go either very well, or very badly for them, and was likely to be thronging with all sorts of people, friendly and non-friendly alike. Nervousness was not an unusual reaction; just unusual for Bai Ning who generally responded to any sort of anxiety with false bravado.
He glanced over at her, sitting very still and proper, and felt a pang of concern. She really must be feeling the pressure. He cast about his mind for something to distract her. There was no point in going into a tournament with tension clouding your thoughts.
Unfortunately, the world around them offered little to work with. The sky was a clear blue streaked with slow-moving clouds. The sea below gleamed in the sunlight, waves breaking into brief flashes of white. Schools of luminous fish traced shifting patterns beneath the surface, sometimes leaping before vanishing again. Beautiful, yes, but a sight they had seen a thousand times already.
There was nothing else for many li around them. The island ahead, tentatively named Dasai Island, and which more or less translated to the Grand Tournament Island, was still distant, not even a dark shape on the horizon. Still, perhaps it could serve as a suitable topic anyway…
He cleared his throat and said, “Looking forward to seeing the island, Bai Ning? It will be the first time you see a Hexie crab. It is going to be quite a sight.”
Bai Ning jolted upright, as though she had been deep in thought. She blinked, and a touch of her usual cheer returned. “I am, a little. They are supposed to be one of the largest spiritual beasts in the world, right? Big enough to be mistaken for islands, and incredibly peaceful. I wonder how the Song clan got their hands on one. The scrolls said they live out in the deep seas or bury themselves in seabeds.”
Left unsaid was the simple fact that the deep seas were extremely dangerous. Powerful demonic beasts roamed those waters, and Hexie crabs survived only by virtue of their massive size, their durability, and the fact that they did not need to hunt the creatures around them. Cultivators avoided venturing far from the coasts for good reason. Encountering a dragon was only one of many threats, and a relatively tame one by the standards of the deep.
“Likely a young one got separated from its colony and washed up on the southern shores of the mainland,” Mo Jian said with a small shrug. “I have no idea how the Song clan managed to tame it, though. Peaceful or not, it is still a powerful beast. I have never seen one either, but I heard a tale once. An expedition fleet set out centuries ago to search for a route through the Southern Sea and made landfall on a massive island after months of sailing. Almost immediately, the island lurched and began to sink, and that was when they discovered that they had landed on the back of a Hexie crab.”
Bai Ning’s eyes widened with interest. “And they managed to get away?”
“They are peaceful, remember,” Mo Jian replied. “The crab actually waited until all the sailors got back onto their ships before submerging completely. It is a well-known tale from the time of the Third Emperor, mostly told as a warning and a reminder of why the empire does not explore the seas around the continent. The skies have Kirins and Kun Pengs, and the seas have Flood Dragons and Hexie crabs.”
Bai Ning shook her head. “Seems like such a waste. Who knows what lies beyond the Southern Sea? There could be all manner of treasures and wonders just waiting for an intrepid explorer to find.” She seemed fully engaged now, her earlier lassitude gone without a trace.
Mo Jian snorted. “Everyone knows what lies there. Danger, and if you are lucky, the shattered remnants of the Sky Range. Reaching another continent is nothing more than a pipe dream. Even before the Shattering, almost no one traveled by sea. The teleportation arrays existed for a reason. Too much distance, and too much danger within that distance. There is a reason the Third Emperor is mocked so often. His policies did little more than burn money. No wonder the Emperor dissolved his dynasty and founded the Xiang dynasty afterward.”
Bai Ning gave him a look of pure disappointment. “What sort of attitude is that for a supposed future explorer, Master? If you travel with that mindset, you will never reach anywhere worth going. Instead, imagine being the first person to step onto one of the sunken sky cities from the Sky Range. How grand would that be?” She sighed, already lost in whatever impressive vision she had conjured.
His distraction was clearly working, which should have pleased him, but Mo Jian still felt compelled to respond. “I would rather visit one of the sky cities that is still floating. That is the whole purpose of sky cities in the first place.”
Bai Ning turned away from him, as if washing her hands of the matter entirely. Her posture became one of exaggerated dignity. “I suppose this is how old men think,” she said with a dramatic sigh of sorrow.
The Heaven Enshrouding Ding lurched slightly, as if it had struck an invisible bump in the air.
Mo Jian stared at her, scandalized. “Old? I am still in the prime of my life.” He patted his hair with righteous offense.
Bai Ning continued to ignore him with remarkable focus, as though he had become part of the scenery. Mo Jian glared at the back of her head for a moment, but when that had no effect, he let out a breath and gave up. This was what he got for trying to cheer her up?
However, whatever tension seemed to have gripped Bai Ning had also ebbed enough that she looked much more at ease, so he chalked that up as a success, the completely unjustified attack on his person notwithstanding.
They continued on for the better part of an hour, heading north. Dasai Island had been raised near the archipelago, yet still deep enough into the Thousand Shattered Islands that no one could misunderstand who held the advantage between the regional powers and the Song clan. Whenever they passed near an island, Mo Jian would guide the Heaven Enshrouding Ding as high as he dared, avoiding unnecessary encounters with other travelers.
It was in this cautious manner that they finally saw Dasai Island in the distance, sometime near mid-afternoon. The tournament was scheduled to last a month, with the first week devoted to the preliminary rounds. Competitors were permitted to arrive anytime within the first three days and still participate. Mo Jian had no idea what system the organizers intended to use to ensure fairness, but given the powers involved and the prize at stake, he had no doubt that one existed. Nothing less would have been tolerated.
The island itself was unmistakably shaped like a crab. It did not look like an actual living one, as he had expected, but more resembled a vast stony structure sculpted to depict one. Craggy hills and patches of greenery dotted the shell. From above, the entire landmass formed a flattened circle, with two smaller sub-islands positioned before it like raised pincers. Even from afar, Mo Jian could pick out the legs beneath the waves, long and jointed, partially swallowed by stone. Most of the surface was rock, but here and there the reddish hue of an exoskeleton showed through. The effect was both strange and uncanny, as if the island itself hovered somewhere between a creature and a monument.
In the center of the crab’s back, an arena had been raised. It was a perfect circle of smooth white stone, at least a hundred li across, completely unadorned. There were no walls or seats surrounding it. Instead, another hundred li out from the arena’s edge, a green ring encircled the entire structure. From the sky, it looked like a green border around a white disk. The ring was built from square blocks of vivid green stone whose purpose was unclear. Mo Jian’s breath caught the instant he saw it, recognition flashing through his mind.
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Beyond these features, the island was bare.
The space around it, however, teemed with life. The crowd was even larger than the one that had gathered on Jadeflame Island for the auction, and far more powerful. Mo Jian could not sense a single Qi Condensation cultivator. The weakest among those gathered were Foundation Establishment, present in great numbers, and he could already feel nearly a hundred Core Formation cultivators as well. They clustered around a ring of cloud that hovered in the air at the island’s perimeter, a broad band of white mist sculpted with deliberate precision.
Upon this floating ring, hundreds, perhaps thousands, of cultivators moved about. Some walked. Others sat and meditated. Many talked, traded, laughed, argued, or simply watched the island below. Temporary residences had been erected, along with shops and betting houses. The inner edge of the ring sloped downward in carved tiers, forming seating that faced the wide expanse of the island and its central arena.
Above this ring floated a single additional cloud. It was much smaller and far more modest, bearing little except four throne-like seats arranged across its surface. Two of the seats were occupied. A third figure stood nearby with a respectful, almost diffident posture.
Mo Jian recognized Ancestor Qing at once. As always, the first thing that rose in his mind, inherited from the original Mo Jian, was the question of why this man was referred to as an ancestor at all. Ancestor Qing looked like a youth in his twenties, with long black hair and a calm, almost gentle expression. He appeared fair-faced and unruffled, distinguished only by a single red tear-shaped mark on his forehead. His robes were richly embroidered yet understated, and he sat upon the rightmost seat with closed eyes, looking for all the world as though he were resting.
Mo Jian had no doubt, however, that the man was aware of every subtle shift on the cloud ring and the island below. The seat to Ancestor Qing’s left remained empty, but the next one was occupied by someone Mo Jian recognized immediately. Bai Ning did as well; her expression tightened at once.
Song Shaoyue had somehow grown even more striking since they last saw her. Her silver hair fell in carefully arranged curls, and her violet robes shimmered with threads of silver. Her face seemed crafted to perfection, her lips colored with a deep red that curved into a faintly amused smile. She did not speak, yet she did not seem bored, merely observing the world with effortless poise. Standing a step behind her was Han Wenqing, unchanged in every detail. His black robes remained unadorned, his white hair and beard were still braided into a belt at his waist, and his face was wrinkled and solemn, framed by deep-set eyes.
Though he stood like a servant, Mo Jian knew it was Han Wenqing’s presence that ensured Song Shaoyue sat among Nascent Soul cultivators. The last seat beside her was empty as well. This initially surprised Mo Jian, though on second thought it should not have. If those seats were meant for the Lord of the Lonely Roads and Old Devil Fu, their absence here was expected. One was notoriously reclusive, the other the leader of the unorthodox faction. Appearing openly, with the Song clan present and Ancestor Qing presiding, would have been an invitation to conflict.
With Ancestor Qing leading, Old Devil Fu was likely keeping himself out of sight for the sake of peace, or at least the appearance of it.
Bai Ning, who had been glaring daggers at Song Shaoyue and Han Wenqing, finally deigned to look at Ancestor Qing as well. Her eyebrows climbed high. “So that is why Senior Fan Mei became a concubine. She has good taste. He is quite handsome.”
Mo Jian wished he could sink into the floor. His ears felt hot. “He can hear you, Bai Ning,” he whispered, praying Ancestor Qing would overlook the comment. More importantly, he prayed Song Shaoyue would not pay them any attention. Bai Ning’s glare had not exactly been subtle. “Please mind your words.”
Bai Ning blinked at him in surprise, then flushed faintly. She had clearly assumed they were too far away to be noticed, or that a Nascent Soul cultivator would not bother paying attention to idle chatter. A rookie mistake.
But instead of going quiet, as Mo Jian would have done had he said something so mortifying, Bai Ning only tossed her hair back and leaned into the disaster. “What? I didn’t say anything untrue. He is handsome. I was merely appreciating Senior Fan Mei’s good taste.” The last two words came out in a breathy falsetto that made Mo Jian slap his hand to his face.
He rubbed his cheeks, trying to wipe away the embarrassment, and grasped at the nearest escape route. “Forget it,” he muttered. “Instead, look below. Do you see that green ring?”
Bai Ning leaned forward to study it more closely. Her eyes narrowed with concentration, but after several moments she sat back with a faint frown. “I cannot figure out its purpose, Master. The arena is obvious enough, and I thought it might be a formation array to contain the fights, but it looks… strange.”
Mo Jian nodded. “That’s because it is not a formation array. I recognize it. That is the Song clan’s World of a Million Cubes. The announcement mentioned that the first round would be a preliminary one to thin the numbers, but I didn’t expect them to use this…”
He trailed off as memories from the original Mo Jian stirred.
Bai Ning turned to him again, curious. “I have never heard of it before. What does it do?”
“It is a spatial realm from before the Shattering,” Mo Jian explained. “One of the few still intact in the empire. Anyone who touches the outer side of the ring is transported inside. As for the realm itself… the simplest description is a world made of green cubes. Imagine millions of giant bricks, all perfectly equal on every face, making up the floors, the walls, the ceilings. Everything. It is enormous inside, and the only exit is on the far side of the maze. You must traverse it and emerge from the inner ring.”
Bai Ning’s eyes lit with growing interest as she listened.
“The Song clan uses it to recruit outside cultivators every fifty years,” Mo Jian continued. “They release demonic beasts inside, set up traps, and let Core Formation cultivators make their way through. That is its usual purpose. To bring it out for a tournament between Foundation Establishment cultivators means the stakes for them must be far higher than usual.” Considering the prize was a divine treasure, it made sense.
Bai Ning leaned in again, taking in the green ring with new appreciation. A small smile tugged at her lips, her imagination already building the world inside. “You speak of it as if you have seen it before, Master,” she said.
Mo Jian grunted softly. Trust her to notice that. As it happened, he had seen it before, though those memories were not his own.
The original Mo Jian had been born on the mainland, within Song clan territory, and had reached Core Formation there. He had arrived at that realm just in time to participate in the clan’s once-in-fifty-years recruitment trial. He had entered the World of a Million Cubes along with dozens of other Core Formation cultivators. The experience had been, to borrow from his Earth memories, like walking into a giant’s toy set. Corridors, passages, and chambers, all built from seamless green cubes, arranged into a shifting labyrinth.
He had lasted only a few hours before encountering another newly risen Core Formation cultivator, a man a few decades younger. They fought. Mo Jian lost so decisively that the shame of that moment had carved itself deep into his psyche, lingering long after the trial ended. That humiliation had driven him to flee the mainland, the Song clan, and everything familiar, seeking solace and anonymity in the Thousand Shattered Islands.
Even knowing those memories were not truly his, Mo Jian felt a tight knot of reluctance form at the thought of recounting them.
So, he offered only a noncommittal reply. “I have seen it, long ago. But that experience won’t help you. The layout inside changes every time, and I have no idea what beasts or traps they have placed for this event. Still, the nature of the first round is now clear. You will have to enter and navigate to the exit, fighting through whatever dangers appear, including the other competitors. Anyone who reaches the inner side of the ring within a week advances.”
Bai Ning frowned slightly, her tone skeptical. “Wouldn’t those who enter first have a huge advantage?”
Mo Jian shook his head. “No. The realm adjusts itself. Those who enter late start closer to the exit, but the dangers will be more immediate. Enter early and you travel farther. Enter late and you fight more. In the end, it comes down to skill, and luck.”
Bai Ning’s eyes lingered on the green ring, alight with interest, though she remained silent. Whatever nervousness had gripped her earlier now seemed a distant memory. Only a confident, assured smile graced her face.
“Come on,” Mo Jian said, sweeping his gaze across the cloud ring hovering above the island. “Let’s find Fan Mei and your parents first, and learn as much as we can about the rules. Right now, everything we know is frustratingly vague. Once we’ve done that, then you can descend onto the island.”
The Heaven Enshrouding Ding drifted closer, cutting a steady path toward the ring. The sheer scale of it revealed itself with every passing moment. The ring of clouds was immense; one could drop Cloud Veil Ridge onto its surface, and it would vanish among the countless residences, temporary structures, and shops scattered across it. Even the tiered seating, which had appeared normal from afar, now revealed itself to be colossal, each tier capable of holding hundreds of thousands.
Bai Ning’s gaze swept over the floating ring and its occupants; cultivators pacing, gesturing, whispering, even betting on outcomes. “How will we even find them here? This is larger than any place I’ve ever seen combined.” Her tone carried awe more than worry, tinged with a hint of excitement at the chance to explore such a place.
“I have no doubt that they’ll find us,” Mo Jian said, fighting to keep his tone calm and measured and not let his amusement show. “Undoubtedly, you’ll make some great commotion, and they’ll come running, knowing that the perpetrator can only be you.”
It took her a moment to register his words properly, but then she rolled her eyes without replying. Her eyes still remained fixed on the cloud ring. “Your poor sense of humor aside, Master, just look at that… it’s awe-inspiring, isn’t it? The sheer scale of it all. The island, the arena, the crowd… even from here, it feels like standing on the edge of something monumental. I know I don’t say it much, but I love being a cultivator. There’s always something to see or do.”
Mo Jian allowed himself a small smile. That was the Bai Ning he knew, always curious, fearless, and ready. It was a good attitude to carry into what lay ahead. The tournament; the grand, unforgiving spectacle of the Thousand Shattered Islands, was about to begin, and they were ready for it.
