Chapter 18: The Gate in the Storm

The tournament hall was a converted warehouse on the edge of the industrial district, its rusted corrugated walls humming with the bass of a hundred voices. Leo stood in the shadow of a loading dock, the mop handle replaced by a proper staff—borrowed, of course, from Uncle Zhang's cousin who ran a martial arts supply shop. It was ash wood, oiled to a dull gleam, and it felt like an extension of hi...