Chapter 47: Obsidian Battlegrounds

The acrid tang of dust and shattered stone filled Jiang Feng's lungs, clawing at his throat as he crouched low beneath a pile of rubble that had once been a bustling drinking spot. The air hung heavy with the aftermath of destruction, carrying the bitter sting of charred wood and crushed food. His ears still rang from the deafening impact that had obliterated the tavern, but his mind raced, faster and sharper than his pounding heart.

Staying here wasn't an option, getting caught meant having to deal with Bia Zhen, whether by Bia Zhen's lackeys or the escalating chaos between the two warring clans. Every muscle in his body coiled like a spring, ready to uncoil at a moment's notice. Jiang Feng shifted his weight slowly, cautiously, every movement calculated to avoid displacing the rubble that concealed him. Each fragment of debris was a fragile shield, temporary, fleeting, and all too easily stripped away if someone got too close.

"Dammit Screw this bullshit, how did I end up in this mess?" he thought bitterly, his jaw clenched tight. His teeth ground together as his eyes darted around, scanning the ruins for a path to escape. His breathing came in shallow, careful gasps, as though even the sound of his lungs could give him away. Crawling through the fractured remains of the building, he gripped his dagger with a hand that trembled only slightly.

The weapon, once his newly crafted work was now reduced to a pitiful shard, barely more than a jagged piece of metal. Yet it clung to life in his grasp, as if refusing to abandon him. What Jiang Feng hadn't noticed in the chaos was the faint trace of blue flames that had danced along its edge during the attack, strengthening it in defiance of destruction. Without that strange, otherworldly fire, the makeshift blade would have been reduced to dust.

A faint hum pulsed through the air, the remnants of energy from the earlier clash vibrating like an invisible net around him. Each pulse pricked at his skin, sharp and insistent, leaving him with a disconcerting sensation—as though the attack wasn't just lingering in the environment but within his body as well. Something about it felt... off, alien to him.

Still, Jiang Feng pushed the feeling aside. Now wasn't the time for introspection. As a junior cultivator in the Foundation Stage, he knew his limits. This wasn't a battle he could win, and even imagining otherwise was a fool's errand. His only option was to run, survive, and live to fight another day—if it ever came to that.

Above him, a sharp voice shattered the uneasy silence, freezing him mid-crawl.

"Where's that brat?"

The voice was coarse with irritation and impatience, its owner undoubtedly one of Bia Zhen's lackeys. Jiang Feng's fingers dug into the dirt beneath him as he pressed himself lower, his body taut as a bowstring drawn to its limit. Sweat trickled down his forehead, burning his eyes, but he dared not move, not even to blink. His ears strained to catch every sound, every shift in the rubble above, every hint of movement from the figures searching for him.

He could feel the lackey's presence, the weight of their frustration pressing down like a predator's paw. Yet Jiang Feng's mind remained focused, his gaze locked on the narrow alleyway ahead. It was his only chance, his escape route. But reaching it meant threading a needle while under the watchful eyes of enemies who were likely far stronger than him.

The voices grew fainter, their impatience turning to curses as their search shifted further away. Jiang Feng exhaled silently, his lungs aching from the strain of holding his breath. This was his moment.

He moved like a shadow slipping through the cracks of a crumbling wall. Quick, precise, and utterly silent, he darted from the rubble and into the narrow alley, his steps barely a whisper against the ground.

The world around him blurred as he sprinted through the twisting maze of debris-strewn streets, each step a gamble against the crushing odds of getting beaten. His pulse roared in his ears, drowning out the distant echoes of battle that still raged in the background. He didn't dare look back, he didn't need to.

As he ran, he could feel the eyes of the crowd on him. The onlookers said nothing, their gazes detached and unreadable. In Northern Moon City, strength was currency, and unless you were strong enough to tip the balance of power, your actions were little more than fleeting distractions. Still, Jiang Feng couldn't shake the feeling that someone perhaps someone dangerous had noticed him slipping away.

Only when the oppressive heat of pursuit began to wane did he allow himself a single, ragged breath. His chest burned with exertion, but relief flooded him.

"Damn it..." he muttered, glancing down at his dirt-streaked hands and torn robes. A wry smile tugged at his lips despite himself. "I can't believe I survived that attack without serious injuries. How tough has my body become overnight?"

The thought gnawed at him as he pressed on with a big smile on his face as he was weaving through unfamiliar streets that stretched further and further from the Lin Courtyard. His earlier escape had thrown him far off course, and retracing his steps now felt like navigating a labyrinth.

Eventually, his aimless route brought him to a massive structure that blocked his view, its presence commanding like an ancient colossus beast. Crafted entirely of black stones, the building loomed over the street with an air of unyielding authority. Its walls were a patchwork of intricate hundreds of thousands of formations, lines and patterns crisscrossing on its surface in dizzying detail.

Jiang Feng stared, his brow furrowing both shocked and amazed. "What kind of place needs this much protection? And these lines..." His voice trailed off as he tried to make sense of the overwhelming complexity and the lines that look exactly like those in the training room. His head began to spin the longer he stared at the massive building, forcing him to look away.

'I wonder if these are formations created by the Zhen clan' Jiang Feng thought as he looked up at the building once more.

As he pondered, the heavy doors at the front of the building creaked open. From within emerged a flood of people, their faces alight with satisfaction, their chatter bright and animated. Jiang Feng hesitated as they passed, their energy a stark contrast to the grim chaos he had left behind.

Curiosity burned in his chest, and before he could second-guess himself, he stepped through the now-empty doorway. What greeted him inside stole his breath.

The space was impossibly vast, expanding far beyond the building's exterior as if he'd stepped into a world contained within a world. To his left was a modest booth, but beyond that stretched a sprawling network of open and private areas. At the center of it all stood a massive dueling arena, encircled by towering tiers of seats capable of holding thousands of people.

"This... it's like a spatial ring," Jiang Feng murmured, awe lacing his voice.

Jiang Feng was once again struck with amazement. The craftsmanship and ingenuity of Northern Moon City never ceased to impress him. Everywhere he turned, there seemed to be a new marvel waiting to challenge his expectations.

His eyes wandered to a small booth near the entrance, where a young woman stood, her movements brisk as she tidied up. She looked to be a few years older than him, with the composed demeanor of someone well-acquainted with her responsibilities.

Noticing she was preparing to leave, Jiang Feng hesitated for a moment before approaching. He straightened his posture, doing his best to suppress the ragged, dirt-covered appearance that marked him as a survivor of chaos.

"Excuse me, senior sister," he began, his tone polite and slightly hesitant. "Sorry to disturb you. I'm new here, could you tell me what this place is?"

The young woman turned at the sound of his voice, her brows furrowing slightly as she took in his disheveled appearance. Jiang Feng caught the flicker of confusion in her eyes and felt his cheeks flush. To her, he must have looked like a beggar who had wandered in by mistake.

Yet, to his relief, she said nothing. Instead, she reached under the counter and pulled out a neatly folded brochure, handing it to him without a word before resuming her task of closing up.

"Thank you," Jiang Feng said, offering an awkward smile.

The woman gave him a curt nod, then turned and walked off, her figure vanishing into the sprawling interior of the building.

'Beggars can't be choosers,' Jiang Feng thought ruefully, glancing down at the brochure in his hands. Its cover was elegant yet imposing, the title embossed in bold, striking characters that seemed to carry their own weight: "Obsidian Battle Grounds."

The calligraphy itself was a work of art, each stroke was deliberate, exuding power and authority. Intrigued, Jiang Feng opened the brochure and began to read, his eyes scanning the carefully crafted lines of text.

"The Obsidian Battlegrounds"

One of the several grand dueling arenas of the Obsidian Woodlands, established by the Axina Empire.

These dueling grounds, scattered across the major cities of the Woodlands, serve as hubs of cultivation and competition. They also connect to the renowned dueling arenas of the other three continents: the Azure Peak Battlegrounds, the Golden Steppe Battlegrounds, and the Mirage Delta Battlegrounds. Together, these grounds form the backbone of the Axina Empire's competitive culture, offering both challenge and opportunity to those who dare to step within their walls.

Jiang Feng's eyes widened as he read. Four continents, all part of the same empire? He shook his head in disbelief, muttering to himself. "So this world is even larger than I imagined... No wonder knowledge is power. I don't know a damn thing."

The realization left him humbled and a little frustrated. For all the progress he thought he had made, it was clear he was still a small fish in an incomprehensibly vast ocean.

He continued reading, his interest deepening with each line.

The Obsidian Battle Grounds serve many purposes: testing one's cultivation, analyzing bloodline potential, honing combat skills, and even determining one's aptitude for formations, talismans, and comprehension talent. Beyond these practical tests, the grounds also host ranking challenges. Participants compete for spots on the prestigious rankings, which are shared across all four continents.

The rankings are more than just a measure of skill, they are a path to fame and fortune. Overseers of the Battle Grounds reward those who achieve exceptional rankings with rare resources, cultivation manuals, and access to elite training opportunities, such as the Obsidian Waterfall Realm. However, the competition is fierce; to claim a spot on these rankings is to prove oneself among millions.

Jiang Feng paused, digesting the sheer scale of what he was reading. His gaze drifted upward, taking in the grandeur of the arena around him. He couldn't help but feel a spark of newfound determination flicker to life in his chest.

"So this is why the streets were buzzing about Bia Zhen's elder sister..." he murmured to himself. He remembered hearing snippets of conversation earlier, the shock and awe in the voices of passersby when they mentioned her name. Now it made sense. To make it onto the Obsidian rankings wasn't just impressive, it's it was monumental.

Clutching the brochure tightly, Jiang Feng turned and left the Battle Grounds, his mind swirling with possibilities. This place wasn't just a dueling arena; it was a gateway to power, recognition, and perhaps even survival in a world that seemed to grow more perilous by the day.

As his figure disappeared into the streets, a subtle ripple of energy stirred in the air behind him.

An old man materialized where Jiang Feng had stood moments ago, his presence as unassuming as a passing shadow yet deeply unsettling. Stroking his long, graying beard, the elder's eyes glimmered with an enigmatic light as he watched Jiang Feng's retreating form.

For a moment, the old man stood in silent contemplation. Then, with a soft hum that barely disturbed the air, he turned and vanished, leaving no trace of his presence.