Ku Lo woke up from Gingge shutting the door behind her.

There were things he wanted to talk through once again before the tournament began, so he pushed the furs aside to follow her.

With all that had happened on the way, only two of the originally five sect robes remained intact within his storage ring.

His stockpile of dark seeds was shrinking at a similar rate.

According to Gingge, only dual cultivators accepted them as currency, but even when using them solely as supplementary cultivation resources, they were easily spent.

Individual seeds held little Qi and with his growing cultivation, he had to munch handfuls to experience noticeable progress.

Once this competition was taken care of, he would have to begin looking for resources if he wanted to hold his own against Yao Khange or simply have a chance at running from the sword sect. 

Left mostly untouched since their arrival at the clan, however, was his sword. A standard issue with no outstanding properties he knew of, it was still his best weapon at the moment.

Another shortcoming he might be able to fix with more time and either luck or riches.

He took it out of his ring and strapped the scabbard to his belt.

Out through the door, he walked the now quite familiar path to Qingling’s quarters. 

With her healed, at least enough to fight a few battles, their outlook on the approaching tournament had completely changed.

Rather than cutting their losses, there was even a chance for them to bring in great rewards — if they played their cards right.

As far as he saw it, there was but one way to go about this.

He would hunt what he could during the first round while Qingling held back. Gingge’s state is my fault, so I should step up my game in her stead, but she can still score a few points with her cultivator’s physique alone.

In the second round, their roles would be reversed. Well, if there’s someone I can beat, I will.

But the main role would be Qingling’s to play.

Nonetheless, it was best to discuss his plan with the two of them beforehand. Which he was about to.

He knocked on the door.

“Yes?” Gingge’s slightly muffled voice could be heard from within.

“Can I come in?”

“Of course!”

Stepping into the room he had silently left the previous night, he was greeted with a comfortable wave of warmth from the lit fireplace.

Qingling slept on the ornamental bed they shared, Gingge sat at its side with a plate carrying an unknown dish and a wineskin.

As she continued staring at him without action, he called out to her. “We won’t have the time to plan for the tournament if she doesn’t wake up.”

“She won’t. I… gave her sleeping medicine.” She sounded desperate, but also resolute in her words. A fact Ku Lo couldn’t help but notice before he comprehended their meaning.

“What? Why?”

“I tried to talk her out of going,” her expression turned pained. “But she insisted! No matter what I said. I didn’t see another way.” By the last sentence, tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.

Oh fuck. He hadn’t woken her up when he returned from healing Qingling. A simple kindness to give her as much sleep as possible, he thought back then. But this courtesy would cost him dearly now, it seemed.

“Is something wrong?” 

He needed to get a grip on himself, something like this was not necessarily a losing situation. Where did the Ku Lo from yesterday, who promised to endure pursuit from a major force for their happiness,  go? “How do we wake her up?”

“Why would we? Sister would force herself and get hurt.” Her tone betrayed her confusion.

“I managed to heal her yesterday. She should be able to fight a few times. Enough to clear your debt!”

Gingge’s eyes widened. Tiny beads of sweat appeared all over her skin as she fazed out.

Then, slowly, she got on her knees and bowed down. “I'm sorry. I’m sorry… ” with delirious whispers, she repeated those two words over and over.

Her appearance that was both creepy and heart wrenching raised a plethora of concerns in his mind. “Nothing has happened yet. Just tell me how we can wake her up again.” He reached for her shoulder, pulling her up.

Her head was still lowered, the brown hair obscuring her face. “Impossible. There is no antidote for dream aniseed.”

The tournament had been an unpredictable ride of ups and downs until now. He should have been able to deal with being put back into the position he had been in just the day before.

But he wasn’t entirely. His hopes, and the risks he had taken to realize them, came crashing down on him.

Making Qinling a dual cultivator had been a gamble. He knew the risk and took it. But instead of simply losing, he had wasted his win through thoughtless negligence.

He wanted to punch himself for being so unlucky, stupid, him.

Gingge’s face came into view; the expression on it likely a mirror of his own. “I will take care of it.”

…

This obscure promise of hers still lingered in his head as he entered the arena used for the tournament.

 Hundreds of people gathered on the vast spectator areas, even though the first round would be entirely out of their view.

The structure was reminiscent of the training grounds in the sect, but without separate fighting stages. Instead, bonfires set in metal bowls and high walls were used to adapt to the cold, windy climate.

A single podium made of wood had been erected though, which all outstanding people seemed to gather around.

There also were a small group of people on the stage, wearing the grey robes of the sword sect.

Gingge moved towards them, making her way through the crowd that lingered around the entrances.

As Ku Lo passed by, he noticed that many had emblems stitched on their robes. Though he didn’t know which symbol belonged to which name, the distribution of identical coats of arms made it clear that they were members of the clans that participated, showing placement denoting who they were in rivalry with.

Barely concealed murmurs erupted from all sides when the presence of their visibly smaller faction was noticed.

Stepping out into the empty space between the present families’ forces and actual participants, the elder Gingge had called ‘Qing’ addressed her from behind. “Lady Gingge, this lowly one will pray for your success, even if it is a matter of course with your involvement.”

But the target of his courtesy held her head forward unchanged.

With a sigh, he led the rest of the Huang family to the side.

They approached the stage and he was able to make out an hourglass set on a table.

Most of the sand had already run through into the lower half, but it would still take some time until the upper half would be empty.

He wouldn’t learn too much just from looking, but since he had the time anyway, he decided to scan through the people he would be competing against.

Again using their coats of arms as indicators, most participating families had sent two fighters each. A few solo participants and teams of three were scattered throughout, but the only ones to really stand out were two large groups that everyone else had positioned themselves in respectful separation from.

The people of the left wore robes depicting a bear-like creature and numbered seven.

Most prominent were two young men. They had somewhat similar features, with dark brown hair and sharp cut faces, but the aura they gave off couldn’t be any more different.

One had thrust his spear into the ground and seemed like he was determined to face any sort of onslaught head on.

The other’s pose was lax in comparison. His short sword was sheathed without him even touching it and unlike the first, his gaze was directed at the stage instead of their obvious adversary.

The rest of their teammates stuck around him, leaving the spear wielder somewhat isolated.

On the right side, everyone wore robes bearing a wolf. Solely a woman with blonde hair trimmed to shoulder length stood out among them.

Literally, as she was at least half a head taller than her companions. Leaning onto her greatsword, she also faced her opponents, though her behavior was somehow less threatening.

Off to the side, but nonetheless given space by the surrounding groups was the last of the big three clans.

Unlike the Ingen and Za, however, their lineup consisted of two people. A man and a woman, both of which could be described with the word ‘pale’.

Grey-ish white hair and almost colorless skin.

They let their eyes wander over the crowd like he did.

At that moment, one of the people on the stage shouted. “The Tihandu tournament has begun!”