From Zhuge Su Yeon's Perspective
From the high seat of his office, Su Yeon had a broad view of the side training field.
Ten young disciples moved at different rhythms and styles. Blows, dodges, calculated steps… the dry sound of wood against wood and the crack of wind split by blades echoed in an orderly cadence, as though the entire training were a ritual.
These were the ten most promising fighters of the Zhuge clan—handpicked by Mei Lin three days earlier.
She now stood motionless at his side, hands folded before her, waiting.
Su Yeon lifted a porcelain cup to his lips, tasted a slow sip, and only then spoke:"So… which ones stand out most?"
Mei Lin inclined her head slightly before answering, her gaze sweeping the field as one who had already weighed and measured each disciple.
"Let's begin with the weakest among them," she said. "Zhuge Wen, fifteen years old, fourth level of Body Refinement. Good discipline, but average strength and little aggression. His advantage is stability—he rarely loses control, even under pressure."
Su Yeon shifted his gaze to the boy.Wen was short and thin, his dark-brown hair tied in a simple knot. His eyes stayed half-lidded, as though measuring each strike before committing. His training robe, worn at the elbows, betrayed countless hours spent repeating basic drills. He wasn't impressive at first sight… yet every thrust of his short spear was straight, with no wasted motion.
Mei Lin continued:"Zhuge Min, sixteen, fourth level. More strength than Wen, but poor control. She relies too much on her arms and forgets the rest of her body."
Su Yeon looked to the young woman at the far end of the field.Min trained beneath the shadow of a willow by the fence. Her stance was aggressive, feet wide, her long blade always pressing forward as though sheer force could make an opponent retreat. Her short black hair clung to her skin with sweat, and her intense gaze seemed to demand recognition with every strike.
"Zhuge Tao," Mei Lin went on. "Seventeen, fifth level. A natural sense of rhythm. Knows when to advance and when to retreat, but lazy."
The tall youth had broad shoulders and moved with relaxed fluidity. His staff spun between his hands as if it were part of him. A faint smile never left his face, as though nothing here was worth his full effort—and perhaps, for him, it wasn't.
"Zhuge Fen, fourteen, fifth level. Raw talent. Quick to react, learns fast… but still unstable."
Fen was the smallest of the group, but her energy doubled her size. She charged with short, explosive bursts, twin daggers flashing at each breath. Her light-brown hair fell in messy strands, and there was a restless spark in her eyes—as though each drill were her one chance not to fall behind.
"Zhuge Rong, sixteen, sixth level. Unusual strength and stamina for his age. Lacks technique, but makes up for it with sheer pressure."
Rong's muscular frame was striking for a youth. Sleeves rolled up, his arms bore the marks of constant training. He swung a broad sword as if it were lighter than it was, each heavy step kicking up dust with every charge.
Mei Lin gestured toward another."Zhuge Han, seventeen, sixth level. More balanced than Rong, but less decisive. Under pressure, he hesitates."
Han had an elegant build, long hair tied neatly, and a composed expression. He wielded his spear with methodical precision, yet—as Mei Lin said—there was always a subtle hesitation before each thrust, as though he calculated risks too carefully.
"Zhuge Lin, sixteen, seventh level. Solid technique with the short sword, proper stance. The problem is predictability."
Lin trained before a line of wooden dummies, repeating the same diagonal slash again and again. Her form was clean, but every move followed a pattern any observant opponent could exploit. Her face was sharp, almond eyes serious, chin held high with near-proud confidence.
"Zhuge Cai, eighteen, seventh level. Specialist with the heavy staff. Few can endure his direct strength."
Cai stood well over six feet, his frame compact and solid. He swung the thick staff in powerful arcs, each impact reverberating across the field. His focus was total, as though the world shrank to the reach of his weapon.
Mei Lin's gaze shifted to one of the two strongest."Zhuge Shan, nineteen, eighth level. Aggressive style, longsword. He never retreats—ever."
Shan's lean frame and sharp face contrasted with the intensity of his stare. Fine scars lined his left forearm. His training was marked by wide steps and violent slashes, each strike carrying the intent to end the fight at once.
Finally, Mei Lin pointed out the last."And the strongest of them all: Zhuge Ren, twenty, eighth level. He's faced real combat against cultivators from outside. His experience places him above the others, even without holding the highest cultivation among the younger generation."
Ren was tall, his presence steady. He wielded a long straight blade with measured precision, yet every strike hinted at a follow-up ready to land the instant an opening appeared. His eyes watched opponents like a hunter stalking prey—patient, but never idle.
The field pulsed with the rhythm of impacts, sharp breaths, and steady drills.
Su Yeon let silence hang over his office.Below, the ten moved like pieces on a vast board—each strike, each breath revealing more than any written report could. He observed without hurry, weighing not just what they were, but what they could become… and more importantly, how to bring them there in the shortest possible time.
The tournament would not wait.Nor would destiny.
He set the cup gently back upon the desk, the faint sound vanishing beneath the field's distant rhythm. He inhaled slowly, as if etching the entire tableau into memory, then spoke:"Good. At the end of the day… after today's training, bring them to the Ancestral Hall to meet me."
Mei Lin inclined her head, expression neutral but her eyes sharp as they caught each word."Yes, Brother Yeon."
She withdrew, her steps fading down the corridor, leaving behind only the faint trace of incense that seemed always to follow her.
Alone again, Su Yeon returned his gaze to the field for a few breaths more before turning his hand. A golden, translucent panel bloomed before him, lines of light pulsing like living veins.
[Family Investment System]
At the bottom corner, the precise count glimmered:Available Points: 5,060
The fruit of four days of near-insane labor—missions completed one after another.
And now, each of those precious points would vanish.
But he did not hesitate.Strengthening those youths was no luxury—it was investment.
The corner of his mouth curved into a faint smile."It's just like investing in stocks…" he murmured, remembering his former life. "Only this time, the stocks carry weapons… and can level houses with their fists."
The golden glow reflected in his eyes as he scrolled through the list, already deciding where each invisible coin would fall.