The blare of the horns was a physical blow, a brazen declaration echoing from the colossal structure now hovering so close it eclipsed the dawn. Lu Fengxiao felt the rumbling in his teeth, a deep vibration that resonated with the agony blossoming on his chest. He clutched the last greave of the iron-wood armor, his knuckles white. The brand, a fiery sigil of his impending doom, pulsed with a renewed, vicious intensity. Its glow, usually a contained internal inferno, now seemed to leak through his tunic, casting an orange hue on his grim face. The glowing script carved into his flesh shifted, the strokes burning down toward the final markers: 00:10:00. “Master Lu, the tea,” Suyin’s voice, a calm eddy in the roiling storm of the morning, cut through the clamor. She stood beside him, her hand warm and steady on his arm, offering a small, steaming cup. Her serene gaze met his, acknowledging the raw pain in his eyes without pity, only calm steadiness. He took the cup, the heat a minor distraction from the branding iron on his skin, and drained the last, precious drops of the Moon-Dew blend. It wasn't enough to stop the suffering, but it was enough to keep the red haze from fully engulfing his vision. Zhiruo, clad in the newly forged armor, her axe resting against her leg, looked up at the looming arena. Her small frame, usually so fragile, now held a formidable grace. The armor, dark as the night forest, somehow accentuated her fierce resolve. She didn’t speak, didn’t ask, simply absorbed the moment, her gaze fixed on the ascending platform. She knew what awaited her. She always knew. The arena, a vast disc of shimmering jade, settled with a bone-jarring thud onto three colossal stone pillars that erupted from the earth below. These were not the usual pilings; Lu recognized them from the blueprints as the Zenith Core’s primary conduits, massive conductors for the life-siphoning array. The final match was indeed on the Zenith Core itself. Elder Mo, a smirk etched on his face, stood at the edge of the elevated platform, gesturing with a flourish towards a hulking figure. This was the pavilion's brute. He was a mountain of muscle, his skin a mottled grey, streaked with pulsing green veins. His eyes glowed with an unnatural vigor, a clear sign of forced Qi-infusion, a perverse transformation driven by the array’s stolen lifeblood. The sheer, brutal unfairness of it nearly broke Lu’s carefully constructed composure. His chest flared, the brand's heat searing his ribs until he wheezed. “Remember the Timber-Fall,” Lu rasped, his voice raw, his eyes fixed on Zhiruo. “Not the tree, but the roots! Find the fault lines, girl! Below the bark!” He pointed a trembling finger at the closest stone column. Xue-Zhi, perched on Lu’s shoulder, translated with frantic squeaks, his tiny voice a comical contrast to the dire stakes. “He says, aim for the weakest points, Zhiruo! The ones that look like they’re just decorative! They’re the real structural weaknesses!” Zhiruo nodded, her face a mask of focus. The horns blared a final time, signaling the start. The adversary roared, a guttural sound that shook the very air, and charged, a blur of grey and green. He swung a massive, serrated polearm, its edge shimmering with condensed life energy. Zhiruo didn't meet him head-on. Instead, she moved with the fluid grace of a practiced woodcutter, a dance of evasion and precise strikes. The iron-wood armor, light as it was, deflected several glancing blows that would have shattered normal steel. “The foundation! The cornerstone! Split the grain!” Lu yelled, his voice now a desperate roar, his consciousness flickering under the relentless assault of the brand. Suyin gripped his hand tighter, feeding him another tiny vial of the now depleted tea, her touch a lifeline. Zhiruo understood. She feigned a retreat, drawing the hulking warrior after her, then spun. Her rusty axe, gleaming dully in the strange red light, arced low, not at the brute, but at the jade floor itself. The first strike was a precise, jarring blow, right above one of the hidden conduits. A crack, thin as a spiderweb, spread outwards. The ground beneath the brute’s boots shuddered. He stumbled, roaring in frustration. “Again! Find the heartwood!” Lu’s voice was hoarse, his gaze glued to the crack. He knew the blueprints. He knew the hidden weakness. The challenger recovered, enraged, and lunged. Zhiruo, her breath coming in ragged gasps, dodged, the crescent blade whistling past her ear. Her axe descended again, a thunderous impact that made the entire arena groan. More cracks erupted, branching across the jade like veins. The brute roared, his power seemingly amplifying as the core began to draw even more intensely from the town below. 00:05:00. The brand on Lu’s chest flared, burning so fiercely he tasted ash in his mouth. He could barely stand, his legs trembling. Suyin wrapped her arm around his waist, bracing his weight against her hip. Zhiruo was relentless. She moved with a purpose born of Lu’s lessons, chopping not a foe, but a rotten log. Each strike of her axe, powered by raw, unrefined strength, sent tremors through the Zenith Core. Elder Mo, observing from his perch, finally saw the method in her madness. His face contorted in fury. “The core! Activate the full siphon!” he shrieked, his voice distorted by rage. The arena pulsed. A sickening green light erupted from the cracks Zhiruo had made, spiraling upwards. A web of luminous, sticky energy shot out, ensnaring Zhiruo. It tightened around her, paralyzing her limbs, draining her strength. Her axe clattered to the jade floor, too heavy to lift. Her body went rigid, her eyes wide with terror as the life drained from her. 00:03:00. Lu’s vision swam. He stumbled forward, tearing free from Suyin’s grasp, heedless of the mortal guards who tried to stop him. His feet hit the edge of the ascending arena. His lungs burned, his throat raw, but he found a voice that was no longer merely human. It was a roar, a furious, soul-shattering defiance that ripped through the air, vibrating through the very stone pillars. He was just a mortal woodcutter, devoid of Qi, but the sheer force of his ancient will, the agony of his burning brand, imbued his voice with an impossible power. “Hurry, you wretched, blind Heavens!” he bellowed, his voice echoing across the Cloud-Piercing Pavilion, shaking the floating mountain to its roots. “I’m here! I’m here for my punishment! Take it! But not her!” His words, raw and desperate, seemed to momentarily stun the warrior. He paused, his head cocked, as if an ant had dared to challenge a dragon. Zhiruo, caught in the siphoning web, could only watch, a single tear tracing a path down her dust-streaked cheek. The brute recovered, his glowing pupils fixed on Zhiruo, the web of energy tightening even further. He raised his heavy weapon high, a sickening grin splitting his face, savoring the moment. His muscles rippled, preparing for the finishing blow. Zhiruo’s eyes locked onto Lu’s, a desperate plea in their depths. Her rusty axe, lying on the jade floor, shimmered, then with a sudden, sharp crack, it shattered into a dozen useless pieces of rusted metal and splintered wood. The heavy blade began its descent. On Lu Fengxiao’s chest, the fiery brand flickered, then solidified into an agonizing, unyielding glow. The secondary counter, a merciless scarlet, changed for the final time. 00:00:01.

Three Minutes to Midnight