Heavy wind blew on the transparent glass of the tall building painted black.

Inside, Wang stood there, his hands folded at his chest as he stared at the sky through the glass, nodding.

Footsteps echoed as the door in a far distance behind Wang opened.

"We are ready," Kang said, stopping five meters away from Wang, placing his right arm on his chin, smiling.

For five minutes straight, neither of them spoke, letting the silence that dwelled in the room take over.

"I'm coming, I need to make an important call," Wang said, turning slowly to Kang, grinned, then walked toward the table filled with lists of names and photos that were marked with red ink.

Among the photos, Wang frowned as his eyes fell on the face of a man standing at the back of the grouped photo with dark blue eyes.

Wang exhaled deeply as the person in the photo stared back at him.

He picked up the four-inch smart device, dialed a number saved with the name Mr. President.

Seeing the movement of Wang's fingers, Kang walked out of the room, descended to the down floor, and joined in with the men dressed like military personnel.

"He's coming, so make ready," Kang said, stopping beside a group of six men holding AK-47s.

Immediately Kang walked past them, two of the six men frowned, then turned worried faces at each other.

"Man, I can't continue with this killing and killing of innocent people."

"Hmm… what else can you do, after signing to work with the immortal being's family business."

"Who? The new guy who used to work with the Westeros government?"

"Nah, not him, I'm talking of the overall boss of this city – they call him Osai."

"Don't mention that name. He appears wherever the name is mentioned."

There, the weight of the wind increased, bushing on the top branches of trees in the Gorg city, and casting long shadows on the road.

…

Meanwhile, under the late morning sun, countless monks dressed in different colors walked toward one direction. Wu Guan – the Martial Hall.

At the entrance of the Martial Hall, the red-dressed monks led, followed by the white-dressed monks, wine-dressed monks, and finally, the black-and-white-dressed monks.

Every group of monks walked in groups of seven, but the black-and-white-dressed monks were only two: one skinny and bushy-haired boy, and a man with fifteen beads wrapped around his wrist.

As Kai and Jim walked through the entrance, all eyes fell on them, forgetting about the two men already fighting hastily on the round platform surrounded with metal chains and spears.

"…they are here…"

"…who allowed them to take part this year…"

"…I don't know, maybe they just came to watch, but not participate in the tournament…"

"…Ooh, have you seen the skinny boy beside the unbeatable Jim?"

"…yeah. I've seen him, but he looks frail to me. I think I can beat him and let him crawl under my feet in just a second…"

"…wow, you've got great courage, I'd love to see you face him…"

In the far distance from the entrance, Kai kept a still and emotionless face as they walked toward a seat reserved for him and Jim.

"Sit, I'll be right back," Jim said, gesturing for Kai to take the seat, then walked out of the Hall's entrance, smiling.

Outside the hall, Jim walked toward the main entrance of the Western Temple of Westeros, closed his eyes and grinned.

"At long last…" he said, cracked his eyes open and spread his arms as if receiving blessing from above.

…

Way back inside the Wu Guan, Kai sat there watching and learning from the ongoing fight between one red-dressed monk and a white-dressed monk.

He smiled when he saw the white-dressed monk dodge a punch and counter back with a heavy one, but frowned when the red-dressed monk landed a punch on the white-dressed.

"Keep pushing, Jude," Kai said, clenching his fist and tightening his chin as he saw the white-dressed monk crawling on the platform after receiving a punch which sent him crashing on the ground.

Cracking sounds erupted from Kai as the red-dressed monk moved toward the white-dressed boy and slammed his boots into the boy's knees, breaking them mercilessly.

A loud scream tore through the hall as white-hot pain shot in Jude's broken leg.

"Stand up and fight like a man," the red-dressed man looming over Jude said, spreading his arms.

Jude, who kept on crawling back, grinned as the pain in his leg continuously increased.

The man stepped on Jude's left leg, cracking that one inside out.

Around the platform, all the white-dressed monks stood up, their faces widening in shock.

"That's a cheat!"

They screamed, throwing their arms in the air.

Though Kai wasn't part of the Whispering Wind cult, rage began to rise in him as he saw the red-dressed monk raise a boot and slam it into Jude's chest.

After Jude's blood sprayed in the air and dressed the white platform, the coordinators of the tournament sent out a chime.

"First round: Iron Body Cult wins."

Loud cheers echoed through the hall as the red-dressed monk walked out of the platform, joining the Iron Body Cult group.

As two of the wine-dressed monks carried Jude from the platform, Kai rushed toward him and grabbed his arm.

"Jude, you should have won, but don't worry, I will do that for you," Kai said, wiped the tears off Jude's face, then smirked.

On his way back to his seat, Kai saw Jim standing by the entrance of the hall, staring at him with a wild and deadly gaze.

Before he could sit down, a loud voice echoed.

"Next match, Radiant Palm vs Iron Body…"

That match, the same guy who had won over the Whispering Wind boy walked toward the platform, paddling his arms in the air as his men cheered him.

The moment one of the Radiant Palm members jolted from his seat and joined the platform, the silence fell on the hall like fire.

The two men stared at each other and shook their heads.

For thirty minutes, the two men kept on fighting vigorously and hastily, letting sand fog through the platform.

Although 99% of the audience couldn't see the movement in the platform, they could hear the smashing and crashing sounds.

As the dust fog calmed, the strands of hair at Kai's face moved as a shock wave moved from the platform to the seats in the hall.

And on the platform, blood streaked down, tiling like water on the platform.

While everyone among the wine-dressed group covered their faces, clearing their tears, the coordinator's voice rose.

"Round Two: Iron Body Cult wins."

A chill clarification gashed through the spines of the role Kai sat in, the same two wine-dressed men walked to the man lying on the ground, carried his dead body, and walked out of the platform.

This time too, the red-dressed man flaunted as the crowd began cheering him up.

Even after one of the contestants died, the coordinators mentioned the next opponents.

"Next Match: Radiant Palm vs Whispering Wind."

When the two members of each group walked to the platform, they didn't last for even ten minutes.

And when the coordinators mentioned the winner, the audience weren't satisfied.

Kai, who sat there thinking about which group to be mentioned next, stood up and walked toward Jim at the entrance.

"When they mention ours, who will be representing?" Kai said, his voice sounding low.

Instead of hearing an answer from Jim, Kai saw a wild gaze coming from Jim as if he was a nuisance that needed to be cast out.

…

Meanwhile, at the far distance on the road leading to the bridge over the sea, cars moved from the road, giving way for group of military vehicles.

Cars that opted not to move aside got pushed, crushing at the side of the bridge and halting, swinging sideways from the road and the sea.

Inside the long military truck, men holding guns of all kind sat calmly, their faces painted in black and white colors.

Meanwhile, at the far distance on the road leading to the bridge over the sea, cars moved from the road, giving way for a group of military vehicles.

Cars that opted not to move aside got pushed, crashing at the side of the bridge and halting, swinging sideways from the road and the sea.

Inside the long military truck, men holding guns of all kinds sat calmly, their faces painted in black and white colors.

When the cars reached the center of the bridge it slowed, as the headlight of the car at the front blinked thrice.

…

At the side of the road, two men wearing fisherman outfits halted, as they saw the military vehicles moving toward the temple's direction.

He placed the curled fishing net held in his right arm on the ground and saluted, but when he countered the vehicles, he moved his arm down slowly.

Beside him, the short guy closed his eyes and shook his head.

"…I pray they don't kill those there like they did to the people in Gilgal Village."

"…How sure are you that they really killed those in Gilgal Village?"

The short guy exhaled sharply, lowered his head, and began crying.

"…I went there to visit my parents, only to meet dead bodies scattered there like ants…"

"Man, I'm sorry for your loss. But if you say you went to meet only dead bodies, how did you get to know the military people went and killed them?"

"…I met a woman who was already leaving the village. She's the one who gave me the information and how they even treated some of the ladies before killing them."

The two men stood there, watching the vehicles exit from their sight.

…

Outside the temple, three monks walked toward the entrance, staring at the vehicles moving in the temple's direction.

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