Lucas stood there, letting the last flickers of Qi fade into the smoky air. The crowd still buzzed with excitement, whispering about what they had just witnessed, but his expression betrayed none of their awe. His eyes softened, not out of compassion for his opponent, but because he no longer felt motivated to carry on. The merchant, chest heaving from exertion, looked as if he had fought for his life, while Lucas had not even broken a sweat. To continue any longer would be a waste of time.
With calm, steady steps, Lucas walked toward the older man, and the merchant, still bracing for another attack, tensed instinctively. But instead of raising his hand to strike, Lucas stopped just before him and spoke in a tone laced with quiet authority.
"You've lost," he said simply, his voice low yet carrying clearly across the room. "The wager was made, and you knew the risks. I'll be taking the room."
