The third bronze bell chimed across the Grand Plaza of the Sun, its deep resonance rolling over the three thousand disciples packing the stone tiers.
High above the arena floor, crimson and gold banners hung from towering granite pillars, snapping in the mountain draft as the midday crowd cheered for the arrival of the inner peak prodigies.
Ye Chen stepped through the shadow of the northern archway, his heavy leather boots pressing into the polished marble flagstones.
He wore a coarse, patched gray tunic over his travel trousers, bearing the faded, soot stained emblem of the Ruined Alchemy Peak across his chest. He carried no ornate carved jade toolboxes or velvet ingredient pouches, bringing only the heavy slab of rusted iron sheathed across his shoulders.
Across the arena floor, eigh
