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Looking to his side, Tilgron shook his head. “This means nothing. Congratulate us in two years, that is, if you won’t be too disappointed at your own loss.”

Oli recognized the tiger’s playful tone. “Why can’t we all go?”

“Ahhh... Kraz, explain it.”

The wyrm nodded and sighed, “Oliver... Only three candidates can be chosen at the regional level. We’ll have to fight and see who comes out on top.”

Not saying anything, Oli blinked and took a moment to think.

“Each prefecture can send up to five people, which will then have a chance to fight in the real tournament,” continued Kraz. “We all have about two and a half years to train before then. After that, we’ll fight any young elder entering the qualifier.”

.....

“Any elder?”

“Any young elder, or any elder that has only been living for less than 35 years.”

“Hmm... I see.”

“Don’t expect us to take you lightly,” Tilgron added with a chuckle. “Master Zelsh wouldn’t have said what he did earlier if he didn’t believe in you. But that means you’ll be working much harder than us, so good luck.”

“Thanks...” Oli shrugged and let the news sink in.

Vant chimed in, “You’re welcome. Don’t get cocky and think you’ll have an easy time. At the very least, you’ll have us to deal with. And I doubt all three candidates will be coming from among us four.”

“But I thought–”

“Just because every promising youth was taken at some point doesn’t mean that territory leaders don’t have hidden talents to offer. Any leader that can raise a successful candidate on their own is rewarded handsomely, and offered seats at the prefectural qualifier,” mentioned Vant. “Every time a dark horse enters the competition, and almost every time that dark horse will snatch one of the three spots.”

“That would complicate things...” Oli sighed, thinking back to the other youths in Trighton Territory. One instantly came to his mind with another following after some thought.

“Dad keeps tabs on everyone, so we try and prepare as best we can,” Kraz stated.

Chuckling still, Tilgron questioned, “You’ll tell us about your friend from the Forell Family, won’t you? After this is over, we can have a nice discussion over a good meal.”

“Sure. But I don’t know them too well, so don’t expect me to know everything,” Oli replied.

The rest of the intermission dwindled down to pestering and joking with Oli. All three of the more powerful representatives got a kick out of seeing Oli’s unexpected lack of knowledge. At the very least, they were going to enjoy themselves and joke around while helping answer some of his questions.

Each region’s representatives either chatted or waited, but the time had come. The young cultivators were either eager to see the semifinal fights or feeling the pressure of their upcoming match.

As expected, Lady Inka descended onto the arena floor with grace and beauty. “Now, we’ll have our fourth and semifinal round. I don’t believe we’ll need to use the tiles any longer, correct?” On that cue, the kings tossed their former tiles back and nodded. Inka accepted them with a soft smile, continuing, “In that case, it’s time we get started. Brak, send out your nephew.”

Roaring, Drogat took off and landed heavy-footed in the arena’s center. Some dust tumbled and rolled in the air as he flapped his wings once more in excitement.

“Zelsh, you’re the only king that still has a choice. Who will you be sending out?”

“Are you a coward or a champion?!” Brak shouted in question.

Disregarding the dragon’s taunts, Zelsh looked directly at Vant with a tender, caring smile.

Vant responded with a quick bow and a smile of his own. He speedily descended the steps and humbly bowed before Drogat, offering no show worthy of stealing attention from the golden dragon.

“Are you two ready?”

“Of course!” Drogat impatiently cried.

Nodding respectfully, Vant replied, “Yes.”

“Then you may begin.”

“I concede.”

“NOT AGAIN?!” Brak roared, letting a tuft of flames escape his lips in reflexive rage. “How dare you waste our time and trust?!”

But Zelsh shook his head and reasoned, “Vant is outclassed by your nephew, Brak. I think we all can understand that. Given Korvik’s failure to harm him, Drogat is clearly Vant’s superior, and there would be no chance of Vant coming close to victory with his current strength.”

“That’s fair,” declared Lord Treeda, silencing Brak’s upcoming interjection.

Lord Zrand chuckled and waved his hand. “Agreed. Though it might have been entertaining, there would be no other purpose to the battle.”

Vant promptly bowed and scurried away while Drogat growled and bit his tongue to keep quiet.

“Then we’ll move on to our next match. Zelsh, send out your first seed, please.”

Before Vant could reach the stands, Tilgron had already passed him. The tiger grinned and nodded to his counterpart while accepting his role in the next match.

“You may as well surrender beforehand and save us time!” Brak cried, still glaring at Zelsh.

Inka continued unperturbed, “Shraal, please send out your first seed.”

The tall crane elegantly flapped its wings and descended to the arena. It kept its wings open while meeting Tilgron’s gaze, puffing out its chest with pride. “Thank you for this match. But I’ll be claiming victory for Tempest.”

“Good luck with that!” Tilgron’s laughter roared across the arena, putting a slight smile on Inka’s face.

“Since you’re both ready... then begin.”

Immediately, the crane took to the air and created a gap between them. Wind essence and water essence washed over the crane’s body, already at full power in respect to Tilgron’s abilities. And it was a good thing the crane didn’t underestimate the tiger.

Tilgron swiped his claws across the ground, creating an icy lance. After reaching the extent of his reach, Tilgron’s claws would catch hold of the lance’s spiked tip and hurl it directly at the crance overhead.

Finally, Uutrai’s job became necessary without Inka stepping in. He happily hopped off the viewing platform to swat or destroy all attacks that went astray, missing the flying crane.