The Shattered Vortex

Chapter 2 The Cage of Blood

The morning mist clung heavily to the base of the floating peaks, thick and gray like wool. Above the clouds, the inner palaces of the Vermilion Sect basked in eternal sunlight, but down in the outer courtyard, the air was bitter, cold, and damp.

A massive iron coliseum dominated the plaza. At its center stood a colossal cage constructed from reinforced spirit-iron bars, each one as thick as a grown man’s thigh. Inside, the dark shadows shifted violently. Low, rumbling growls vibrated through the stone floor, accompanied by the wet, rhythmic sound of panting. The heavy stench of iron, rot, and wild beast musk hung over the entire arena.

Deacon Meng stood on an elevated wooden platform overlooking the iron cage, holding a glowing spiritual brush over his massive iron ledger. He looked utterly bored, his balding head glistening with sweat despite the morning chill.

"Next! Lu Chen!" his voice boomed out across the plaza, amplified by a basic sound-transmission talisman.

A wave of mocking laughter instantly rippled through the hundreds of gathered aspirants. The crowd consisted almost entirely of young masters and noble scions from powerful regional clans. They wore fine, layered silk tunics of crimson and jade, their waists adorned with expensive protective amulets and master-crafted steel swords.

"The beggar actually survived the night," whispered Young Master Zhou, his voice dripping with smooth condescension. He adjusted the pristine silver bracers on his forearms, a cruel, handsome smirk playing on his lips. "I thought for sure he would have bled out from his raw stupidity or thrown himself off a cliff by midnight."

"Look at him," another clan heir sneered. "He doesn't even have a weapon. Is he going to try and ask the beast nicely not to eat him?"

Lu Chen ignored them all. He stepped out from the crowd, his boots squelching slightly in the mud. He wore the same tattered, blood-stained gray rags from the night before, tied tight at his waist with a piece of fraying rope. His black hair hung loosely over his face, but his eyes—pitch-black and completely devoid of fear—were fixed entirely on the iron cage.

He climbed the stone steps and approached the gate. As he neared the ledger, Deacon Meng paused, throwing a clinical, dismissive glance at the young man's ragged appearance.

"The rules are simple, boy," Deacon Meng said, not bothering to look Lu Chen in the eye. "You enter the cage. To pass, you must survive inside for three full minutes, or you must kill the beast. If you scream for help, you fail, and the guards may or may not pull you out before you are torn apart. Step inside."

Lu Chen nodded once. "Understood."

The heavy iron gate ground open with a screeching whine. Lu Chen stepped through the threshold, and before his heel could even settle onto the internal flagstones, the gate slammed shut behind him with a definitive, ringing clang.

The shadows at the back of the cage parted. From the darkness emerged a massive Blood Wolf. The beast was the size of a carriage, its fur a matted, violent shade of crimson that bristled like iron needles. Corrosive, yellow saliva dripped from its exposed fangs, sizzling as it hit the stone floor. Its eyes glowed with a feral, red light—starved, maddened, and entirely driven by the instinct to slaughter.

The moment the beast locked its gaze onto the unarmored human in rags, it let out a deafening roar that shook the very dust from the cage ceiling.

Outside, the wealthy aspirants leaned forward against the wooden railings, their smiles widening. "Ten gold coins says the wolf takes his head off in the first leap," one shouted.

Inside the cage, Lu Chen did not move. He did not adopt a traditional martial arts stance. He simply lowered his center of gravity, letting his arms hang loose at his sides.

Growl.

The Blood Wolf exploded forward. It was a terrifying blur of crimson speed, crossing the thirty-foot distance in a fraction of a second. Its jaws snapped open, aiming directly for Lu Chen’s throat, its razor-sharp claws extended to rip his chest to ribbons.

"He's dead," Young Master Zhou muttered, crossing his arms.

But Lu Chen didn't dodge. Instead, he took a heavy step forward to meet the charging beast head-on.

Spin.

Deep within his belly, the miniature, jagged vortex of pure, compressed Qi roared to life. The glass-like shards of spiritual energy spun at a blinding speed, generating a violent, grinding heat. For the first time, Lu Chen channeled this mutated energy outward. The chaotic, razor-sharp Qi flooded through his widened, reinforced meridians, instantly coating his right fist in a visible, crackling aura of shimmering, jagged force. The air around his hand violently rippled and distorted, whistling like a gathering gale.

As the wolf’s open maw reached his face, Lu Chen punched straight forward, throwing a bare-knuckle strike directly into the beast’s mouth.

BOOM!

The impact sounded like a detonating lightning talisman. The compressed, jagged Qi exploded from Lu Chen’s knuckles upon contact. It didn't just hit the beast with blunt force—the razor-sharp energy shards acted like a meat grinder, instantly tearing through the wolf’s teeth, shredding its tongue, and violently blasting out through the back of its skull.

A massive shockwave rippled through the air, vibrating the heavy spirit-iron bars of the cage. A dark spray of crimson blood and bone fragments erupted from the back of the beast’s head, painting the stone floor and walls in a violent splatter.

The massive Blood Wolf’s momentum halted instantly. It crashed to the floor with a heavy, lifeless thud, its limbs twitching once before going entirely still. Dead in a single, bare-handed strike.

The entire coliseum fell into a suffocating, absolute silence.

The mocking laughter died instantly in the throats of the wealthy aspirants. Their jaws slackened, their eyes wide with unadulterated shock. Young Master Zhou’s hands dropped to his sides, his face turning an ash-gray color as he stared at the corpse of the beast. Even Deacon Meng froze entirely, his spiritual brush hovering uselessly in the air, a drop of ink falling onto his pristine ledger.

Lu Chen stood calmly over the dead wolf. His breathing was steady, his heartbeat calm. He didn't have a single scratch on him. Slowly, he reached down, wiped the dark, hot blood from his right knuckles onto his tattered gray rags, and looked up.

His piercing black eyes locked onto Deacon Meng, then subtly drifted toward the distant, cloud-shrouded peaks where the inner sect elders resided.

"Is the time up?" Lu Chen asked, his voice flat, calm, and carrying across the silent arena.

Deacon Meng swallowed hard, his throat dry. He looked at the shattered skull of the Tier-1 beast, then back to the youth in rags. "L-Lu Chen," the deacon stammered, his fingers trembling as he hurriedly dipped his brush. "Pass. Direct kill. Standard Outer Disciple token awarded."

The iron gate ground open once more. Lu Chen walked out of the cage, his grip firm and steady as he took the cold iron token from the trembling hands of the administrator. He walked right past the stunned, silent crowd of young masters, not giving them a single glance.

He had survived the cage, but he knew the true hunt had only just begun.