From Zhuge Yu Jin's Perspective
I descended the steps of the stands without haste.
Each step felt like the beat of a war drum only I could hear.
Today, many things had to change.
No… today, I had to change them. Personally. With the strength of my fist.
Throughout Gray Sky City—and even within my own clan—certain words had always reached my ears.
"Trash."
"The useless one of the family."
The echo of those voices followed me for years, shaping my reputation into the very synonym of shame.
And for years, I accepted it.
Not by choice, but because I was powerless to change it.
I trained until my hands bled, until Qi became a searing weight that nearly tore me apart from the inside.
I cultivated with more hunger and thirst than anyone else.
I pushed my body past its limits until it collapsed from exhaustion or lack of food.
And still… it was never enough.
Maybe my talent really was worthless.
Maybe I had been born a burden.
Honestly, I didn't know.
But I simply could not accept it, even when it seemed like an absolute truth staring me in the face.
Something inside me kept whispering it was all a lie, an illusion.
And so, for years, I lived with two wills at war within me:
One, more logical, told me to give up, to accept the fate of a failed cultivator and vanish into obscurity.
The other, deeper and unknown, roared like a chained beast, refusing to accept the reality shoved down my throat.
But not today.
Today, only one will breathed.
The will of a beast already freed from its chains.
The cold granite of the arena lay just steps away. Across from me, the Tie Xuan youth waited, wearing that typical smile—the kind that measured my worth before even seeing me fight.
I knew that look.
It was the same one everyone wore for years… until the day I broke the first.
The morning breeze brushed my robe, but the heat surging inside me didn't come from the sun.
It came from certainty—that this fight wasn't just against one opponent.
It was against them all.
Against every muffled laugh.
Against every word they tried to carve into my name.
And for the first time, I was ready to give it all back.
"Ninth stage of Body Refinement?" he scoffed, his voice dripping with irony. "How many pills did the Zhuge have to pour down your throat to get you there?"
I didn't answer.
There was no need.
I stood still, breathing calmly, eyes locked on him.
The judge hesitated, as if savoring the moment when everyone still believed they knew the outcome.
At last, he raised his hand.
"Begin!"
The Tie Xuan boy lunged at once, gray robe flaring in the wind, short blade flashing cold. But to me, the world no longer moved at the same speed as for the others.
Each of his steps toward me seemed to plunge the arena into silence. The sound of boots on granite grew distant, drowned by the echo of memories surfacing in my mind—sharp recollections so real I could almost smell the blood and wood.
The first memory struck like a blade.
My hands burning, skin torn, blood dripping down my knuckles as I pummeled a training dummy.
The stench of sweat-soaked wood and iron filled my nose. Each strike jarred through bone, searing my forearms. I knew I should stop, but I didn't.
Not because I believed it would help—but because stopping meant admitting they were right about me.
The second memory came like a weight in my gut.
Me, as a child, trembling in meditation, trying to break through an impossible barrier.
Qi crawled sluggishly, tripping over unseen walls. The harder I pushed, the tighter frustration clenched my throat.
The third memory carried no images, only sounds.
Muffled laughter.
Whispered words loud enough for me to hear:
"Look, it's the useless one."
"The clan's burden."
It didn't matter where I was—the fields, the training yard, the market—those words pierced me like poisoned arrows.
Each left no visible scar, but burned inside.
And still, I kept them. I never struck back. I only stored them away.
Like embers buried beneath ash, waiting for the right moment.
The arena's sound returned to me.
The Tie Xuan boy was already before me, blade slicing down toward my neck.
I didn't move immediately.
Not because I couldn't—but because something inside me was awakening.
I looked at my fist, and in that instant I realized—or perhaps finally accepted—the truth:
For years, seals buried deep in my body had bound me to a fate I had never chosen.
They had muffled my strength, kept me crawling while I believed myself weak, talentless.
But today… I would tear them away.
Heat pulsed beneath my skin, racing up my arm.
Veins burned. Qi roared.
And then, flames appeared—red-gold, dancing around my fists as if they had always been there, waiting for me to permit their existence.
This wasn't just energy.
It was freedom.
"I will burn every seal that bound me.
I will raise my power until no one dares look down on me again.
And it begins today. With this fist."
The blade was a handspan from my neck…
But it was a poor technique. Linear.
Far too poor to pose any threat to me now.
I stepped lightly aside.
The cutting edge met only cold air.
At once, my fist struck forward.
No flourish. No hesitation.
Golden flame compressed around the blow, and when my punch crashed into the Tie Xuan boy's stomach, the sound was like a drum exploding through the air.
His body folded violently, air bursting from his lungs in a sharp blast.
His feet left the ground, and he flew back like a ragdoll, sailing across the ring before slamming down.
Blood came before the fall—a dark spray painted across the air like a brushstroke on canvas.
The silence that followed was so thick even the wind seemed to stop.
I stood still, fist clenched, feeling the flames' heat slowly fade.
I looked at my hand again—not surprised by its strength, but resolved.
If this world only respects strength…
Then my fist will become the strongest.
I turned and began walking out of the ring.
Slow, steady steps, like crossing a bridge freshly taken.
There was no need to wait for the judge's announcement.
The victory was mine regardless of words.
But still, they came—echoing across the arena before I reached the Zhuge pavilion's shadow:
"Zhuge Yu Jin… wins!"
The judge's voice held a trace of hesitation.
I glanced at the stands and saw exactly what I expected:
Open mouths. Wide eyes.
Even some of my clan's own elders—men who had watched me for years with veiled contempt—now bore shock across their wrinkled faces.
It didn't matter.
This was only my first victory.
The first of many.
And I had no intention of stopping.
I crossed the arena beneath countless stares glued to my back.
They weren't only filled with shock or disbelief… there was a new weight in them too.
Perhaps respect.
Perhaps fear.
I didn't care—so long as they understood I would never again be the Yu Jin they had known.
Then, one look alone caught my attention.
Among all the faces in the crowd, I saw my brother, Zhuge Su Yeon.
He wasn't watching me with surprise.
There was no shock in his eyes.
Instead… there was a smile.
Small, discreet… but as rare as a phoenix feather from him.
A true smile.
He dipped his head ever so slightly—a gesture imperceptible to anyone who didn't know his restrained way of showing affection.
I returned the nod in kind.
No words were spoken.
And none were needed.
This… was family.
Not the family of ceremonies and empty promises.
But the kind that trusts.
That supports.
That stands firm, even when the world stands against you.
That silent exchange of gazes, to me, was worth more than any applause.