The heavy iron portcullis lifted into the stone archway with a grinding rattle, and Ye Chen stepped out from the darkness of Tunnel Four onto the bright white sand of the central ring.
A wall of sound hit him from every direction as ten thousand spectators in the surrounding granite tiers roared at the top of their lungs. Banners of gold and azure silk whipped in the mountain gale along the highest parapets, while far above the arena floor, the Grand Council sat upon cushioned thrones behind the gilded balustrades of the Sovereign Tower.
Ye Chen planted his boots into the fine white grit, the heavy iron bracers on his forearms resting cold and solid against his wrists. Across his shoulders, his rusted broadsword hung silent within its scarred scabbard, its pitted metal catching the harsh
