Winter had been unusually cold this year. Frigid air blew in from the vast frozen land in the north,
whitening most of the Empire's land.
Heavy snow like cotton quilts covered the ground. The spacious drill ground in front of the Luo
residence was also wrapped in a thick blanket of snow.
On Family Practicing Day, servants of the Luo Clan cleaned up the snow on the drill ground. Twelve
teams of Luo children stood in a neat queue, awaiting the review of the Luo Clan elders.
The Luo Clan originally had thirteen branches. Ever since the allegations against Zen's family and the
dissolution of their branch, only twelve branches remained.
In order to encourage all the Luo children to practice diligently, Family Practicing Day was held once a
year. This day was important for both, the Luo children and the human punchbags.
Based on the performance of each branch of the Luo Clan, resource allocation for the subsequent year
would be decided. Good performance would naturally imply that the winning branch would get more
resources, such as useful pills that improved the speed of body refining, and the rejuvenation
medicines that quickly healed wounds.
For slaves, this day determined their life or death, and freedom.
Zen and the other slaves headed toward the drill ground. Today, every punchbag looked serious. Their
determination was clearly visible in their expressions. Each of them was aware of the significance of
this day.
There were only two options for a slave in a death match, win a free life or die trying.
For the Luo children, the death match was a test. Winning meant that they got rewarded and earned
the support of the whole family. The consequence of losing was limited to feeling ashamed.
Most elite children already had good strength. Both their skills and power were better than ordinary
person's. However, many of them still lost at this crucial time due to low exposure to actual combat. It
was thus, a common thing to see the elite children lose in this competition.
The original intention behind setting the rules of the death match was to maximize the potential of the
slaves by motivating them to fight the Luo children eagerly. This was the only way for the Luo children
to get real combat training experience.
A few moments after the slaves arrived, a middle-aged man wearing a green robe entered the ground.
Zen's uncle, Ken Luo, had long beard and a face as smooth as jade.
Upon seeing him, Zen's eyes flashed with hatred. He remembered how Ken Luo had played a part in
the death of his father. This man pretended to be a modest gentleman, but he used tricks to poison his
oldest brother. To Zen, he was nothing more than a hypocrite.
If Zen had greater confidence in his strength, he wouldn't have hesitated to kill Ken Luo. However, Ken
Luo was a master at the organ refining level. His entrails had been refined thoroughly. Furthermore, his
strength was comparable with the weight of three ancient tripods. It was said that he could tear a tiger
and a leopard with his bare hands, and smash the great walls with his fleshy fist.
Ken Luo stood on the high platform, took a deep breath, and then spoke, "Today we have good news.
My nephew, the young master of the Luo Clan, has been admitted to Cloud Sect. He is now their inner
disciple."
Ken Luo didn't speak loudly, but everyone could hear him clearly. Since he was a master at the organ
refining level, all his internal organs had been honed. Even though he had whispered, his voice was still
vivid.
Upon hearing the announcement, envy reflected on the faces of the Luo children.
Perrin being admitted to Cloud Sect was almost an expected thing. Cloud Sect's disciples were divided
into many levels. Many people passed all the assessments and stood out from their competitors.
However, all they got was an outer disciple's position. In essence, that meant that these disciples did
not get the best resources.
How was it that Perrin was able to improve quickly enough to be exceptionally qualified as an inner
disciple? This was beyond the expectation of all present. It was no wonder that they were jealous.
Zen was also wondering the same. Could it be that the Magical Pill Perrin took was so effective and
powerful that it helped Perrin gain admittance as an inner disciple at Cloud Sect? Worried and anxious,
Zen clenched his fists.
The reason why his uncles hadn't killed him yet was that they thought Zen was no threat to the Luo
Clan. However, Yan was an exceptional talent. She was a threat to them. When the coup happened,
Yan escaped because she was at Cloud Sect. But now that Perrin was at Cloud Sect, his presence
would definitely be unfavorable to her. Thinking about the threat to his sister, Zen knew he had to go to
Cloud Sect as quickly as possible!
"Perrin is the pride of the family. However, we must not focus on his achievement. Today is Family
Practicing Day. The Luo children must choose a slave for the death match. If you win against the slave
in the death match, next year, the winners will get double the quota of Refining Pills. Furthermore, the
winners' monthly money will also be doubled. There is another bonus as well, a Purple Pill..."
Upon hearing about the several attractive rewards being offered to the winners of the death match, the
Luo children began talking amongst themselves. Their excitement was palpable.
The slaves, however, looked gloomy. The greater the rewards, the more challenging the death match.
Spurred by greed, the Luo children would become more ruthless. Although the slaves had only a low
chance of survival, now, that chance had become even smaller.
After Ken Luo finished his speech, he walked back toward his high chair. The steward, Grey walked on
to the elevated terrace. His eyes swept through the slaves and stopped at Zen. Viciousness flashed in
his eyes as he thought, 'Boy, you will die today!'
That done, Grey spoke loudly, "Now the Luo children can begin selecting their punchbags. The first
competitor for the death match will be Andrew Luo, the oldest son of the third branch!"
Andrew leaped onto the arena on the ground. After paying due respect to his father, Ken Luo, he
turned to pick his punchbag.
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