After entering the arena, we were invited to take our seats in the stands. On the sides, I noticed TV reporters, social media influencers, and cameras everywhere — that's when I realized the event would be broadcast on television. So much for keeping my techniques a secret from everyone... now the whole world would see them.
Once I sat down, Canou Gérard appeared on stage.
"Welcome, everyone. Today is a special day — a day that could change your life. One hundred of you will join me in Australia to become cultivators. So give it your all, and good luck!"
After his speech and the wave of applause, the referee stepped into the arena and called the first fighters.
"The first combatants are Tony Morga and Antonio Sinastra."
Upon hearing my name, I stood up and walked to the center. I sized up my opponent — he looked experienced, but I judged I wouldn't need to use my new technique. Still, I remained cautious. Anything can happen in a fight.
As we both reached the center, Antonio said to me:
"You've got guts showing up here after what you did to the great Lucien Mordy. Don't worry — I'll set things straight."
Hearing those words made me feel even more confident. There's nothing better than knocking down someone who thinks they're above you. The referee raised his hand, then gave the signal to begin.
He came at me immediately with his wooden sword. His confidence came from the fact that he was armed and I wasn't. But his sword technique was sloppy — he only aimed for my head. It was easy to dodge. Still, dodging alone doesn't win a fight.
He tried to feint, pretending to aim at my stomach, but instead went for my chin. I deflected the blow, ducked, and landed a quick combo: a kick to the liver, an elbow to the solar plexus, and a rising elbow to the chin. He collapsed instantly. Unless you're a cultivator, a combo like that to the liver and plexus would take down anyone — even me.
"This match is over. The winner is Tony Morga by knockout."
I returned to my seat. Joseph was fired up after my fight. To conserve my energy, I decided to get some rest. Thirty minutes later, Joseph woke me up — it was his turn. He wanted me to watch his match. His opponent was someone named Tonia. Just by looking at her, I could tell — she was strong. This wouldn't be easy for him.
The match began. Tonia, armed with a katana, rushed at him, delivering only quick, precise strikes, each aimed at Joseph's vital points. He did nothing but parry. Then, he finally drew his wooden sword. One sharp diagonal slash — and it was so fast that we didn't even see the second strike, which caught Tonia right under the chin. She remained standing, but she wasn't moving.
The referee approached her and declared the match over — another KO. The whole arena stared at him. His diagonal slash was so sharp it even sliced through Tonia's sweater. I had underestimated him.
An hour later, the first round had ended. My turn came again. This time, I was up against someone named Mox.
The fight started. I raised my guard, making him think I was going to box. He rushed me with a punch — a feint — and tried to take me to the ground. Even though I saw it coming, he still managed to bring me down. He grabbed my left arm and attempted a submission. I felt my arm starting to twist.
In response, I tensed all the muscles in my right arm, extended my fingers, and with a sharp, precise motion, struck the center of his throat. The impact was so forceful that he immediately let go of my arm. Before standing up, I hit him with a quick shot to the chin — not enough to knock him out. But I got up before he could and delivered a spinning back kick and a Brazilian kick, both straight to the head. He couldn't handle the combo and collapsed.
The referee ended the match. That fight almost turned into a loss, I told myself. As I returned to my seat, I noticed some people watching me with worry, hoping not to face me. Others stared at me with determined, competitive eyes.
I chose not to sleep this time and watched the following matches. Most weren't very impressive… but the moment I was waiting for finally arrived — it was Joseph's turn again. He was up against Martin Gasto, known for being a cocky rich kid.
They both entered the arena — Joseph with his sword, which he only draws to block or strike, and Martin wielding two sharp wooden daggers.
The referee started the fight.
They charged at each other. Joseph drew and struck with a diagonal slash. Martin parried and kicked him back. As Joseph stumbled, he noticed Martin's weapons had disappeared from his hands. Martin used that split second to dash forward and threw a quick punch. Joseph caught his wrist, twisted it into a lock, and shifted his hips to break his balance. Suddenly — a kick came from Joseph's left. Full impact to the head.
That madman Martin had sacrificed his own hand to create an opening.
As Joseph began to fall, he swept Martin's leg — who had been standing on one foot. They both collapsed to the ground. Joseph used the moment to unleash four rapid strikes: one to the left ribs, one to the intestines, one to the right ribs, and a final blow straight to the jaw.
Both were down. No one moved… Five seconds passed.
Then Joseph stood up.
The referee ended the match. The crowd unanimously agreed — that was the best fight so far. Joseph came back and collapsed in his seat, falling asleep immediately.