"We are the Empire, Your Majesty," the Patriarch whispered smoothly. "We write the rules. If the rules do not help us, we simply change them."The Patriarch walked up to the table. He picked up a small golden flag and snapped it in half with his thick fingers. "The beggar is strong. But every man has a limit," the Patriarch explained. "He has a physical body. He has muscles that get tired. He has mana that will eventually run dry. If we want to kill him without looking weak, we just have to bleed him dry.""How?" the Sword Saint asked, opening his tired eyes. "We change the format of the Elder Exhibition," the Patriarch declared. "We announce a special, surprise event. We will call it the 'Gauntlet of Sovereigns'."The Emperor raised an eyebrow. "A gauntlet?""Yes," the Patriarch smiled cruelly. "Instead of fighting one match, Mo Yan will stay in the center of the arena. We will open the heavy iron gates, and we will send in a challenger. When Mo Yan beats the challenger, the gates

Lucien raised his clay cup and took another calm, slow sip of the sweet jasmine tea. "The Emperor thinks he is building an execution block," Lucien smiled his dark, beautiful smile. "He thinks he is going to tire me out by sending a hundred soft, fat, golden men into a clean arena."Lucien looked up at the dark sky above the capital city. "A gauntlet is not an execution block, Seraphina," Lucien said softly, a dark, hungry laugh rumbling in his chest. "To a starving monster from the dark... a gauntlet is just an all-you-can-eat buffet."Seraphina felt a strange, wild mix of deep dread and overwhelming awe. She looked at the man sitting next to her. The Emperor thought he had laid the perfect trap. But Seraphina realized the terrifying truth. Lucien wanted them to send everyone at once. It would save him the trouble of hunting them down. "Okay," Seraphina whispered, a small, fierce smile finally touching her own lips. "Eat them all."The next morning, the Imperial Arena was completel

Boros sneered. He hated arrogant people. "You want to hurry?" Boros growled. He pounded his huge fists against his own chest. The sound was like a hammer hitting solid stone. "I will make this very easy for you, beggar," Boros announced to the crowd. "I am Patriarch Boros of the Iron-Mountain Sect! My body is the strongest shield in the Empire! I am not going to attack you! I am not even going to move my feet!"The crowd gasped. The giant man was giving the beggar a free hit. Boros pointed a thick, rough finger at Lucien. "You can hit me," Boros challenged. "You can swing that cheap, rusty iron sword as hard as you can. You can punch me. You can kick me. I will stand perfectly still. I am going to let you beat me until your arms fall off. And when you drop to your knees crying from exhaustion... I will step on your head like a bug."The millions of people in the crowd cheered wildly. They loved the arrogance. They loved

The Golden Sword Saint stood near the window. The old master’s eyes were wide. He was sweating. "He did not use a spell, Your Majesty," the Sword Saint answered softly. His voice sounded very old and very tired. "He focused an entire ocean of force into a single point. His physical body is a weapon of mass destruction. He is not a man. He is a walking disaster."Down in the dirty Coach's Box, Seraphina let out a long, shaky breath. She smiled a fierce, proud smile. Kai jumped up and down, pointing at the arena. "Did you see that?! He crushed the diamond! He is the strongest in the world!"Out on the white sand, the dust from the sonic boom slowly cleared away. Lucien stood in the exact same spot. He had not moved his feet since he threw the punch. He slowly pulled his right arm back. He looked down at his dirty hand. He casually shook his wrist, rolling it around lazily, as if the punch had made his knuckles a tiny bit stiff

"Is Instructor Mo Yan in danger?" little Lin asked, holding her hands together nervously. Seraphina looked out at the white sand. She looked at Lucien, who was slouching lazily in his brown cloak. A tiny, cold smile appeared on Seraphina’s beautiful face. "No, Lin," Seraphina whispered. "Instructor Mo Yan is not in danger. But the Emperor just made a very, very stupid mistake."Out in the arena, Malakor did not speak. A true assassin never wastes breath on words. He raised his two poisoned daggers and crossed them in front of his silver mask. He channeled his dark, slippery mana into the blades. "Shadow-Mist Art," Malakor whispered. Instantly, thick, heavy, grey-black smoke poured out of his dark clothes. The smoke expanded outward at an impossible speed. It rolled across the white sand like a rushing flood of dirty water. Within five seconds, the entire center of the arena was co