Chapter 34 – When the Ordinary Rises to the Heavens
Through the eyes of Zhuge Su Yeon
The judge's announcement cut across the arena like the sharp crack of a seal being broken:
— "Next match… Zhuge Han!"
I couldn't help but let one corner of my mouth rise. I knew the three great clans weren't ready to stop. Failing to topple Cai wasn't enough—the wound to their pride seemed to force them on, like a dog that keeps trying to bite the same stone.
Zhuge Han.
He rose from the bench with the calm of someone fetching a bucket of water, not someone about to fight. His spear stood upright in his hand, metal catching the pale morning light. He descended the steps slowly. Following the Zhuge pattern.
And honestly… if anyone asked for my opinion of Zhuge Han, I could only say there was nothing remarkable about him.
Among all the distinct personalities that made up our clan's promising youths, Han was... simply neutral. Not explosive like Min, who turned every arena into a wildfire. Not calculating like Wen, whose mind moved pieces even in his sleep. Not strong like Rong, both wall and blade at once. Not expressive like Cai, who could turn the way he held a weapon into a speech. Not as devoted as Shan, who seemed to merge with his sword.
Zhuge Han was, simply... ordinary.
During training hours, he trained. During cultivation hours, he cultivated. He never stayed late, never asked for extra sessions, never sought shortcuts. He seemed like any other youth—shy around girls, with that slightly awkward posture of someone unsure what to do with his hands when speaking to them, and always willing to go out with his peers once training was over.
I had tried, more than once, to find something that set him apart. A trait, an eccentricity, a spark of protagonism, or even a flaw worth noting. Nothing.
He was just... that. Normal.
And precisely because of that, I knew the coming scene would be interesting to watch.
Han's opponent was called shortly after—a Yuan He boy at the ninth level of Body Refinement, carrying both a cultivation advantage and the weight of expectation. Han stood only at the eighth level, and everyone thought they knew what "story" would unfold.
But when the judge announced the start... the expected story never arrived.
The Yuan He charged in, unleashing a decisive strike meant to crush Han. But what should have been devastating was... useless.
Han did not meet it with theatrical bravery, nor dazzling speed, nor hardened body to take the blow. He simply shifted his spear, redirecting the attack off course. That was all. So simple a city guard could reproduce it.
And yet, the ordinary became extraordinary.There wasn't a grain of wasted motion. No hesitation. No excess. Pure perfection.
I understood better than anyone. Zhuge Han was no genius, but he was far from a fool. He knew his limits better than most and never wasted time pretending to be what he wasn't. He did not seek brilliance, nor power he couldn't sustain. His focus was simplicity... and technique.
If before I considered Zhuge Lin the most technical among our youths, I now had to admit: Han had stolen that title.
The Yuan He tried again.And again.And again.
Nothing.
If the opponent advanced, Han retreated.If he retreated, Han advanced.Always at the exact measure, his Qi held with near-surgical precision, sustained by the Refined Precision Body Art.
The match dragged on longer than the others. Three minutes of intense combat passed, and to most spectators it looked like a stalemate. But I knew. The end was near.
At the spear's tip, a subtle—yet terrifying—amount of Qi had been accumulating, strike after strike, like a beast slowly awakening. The martial technique: Ascending Dragon Charge.
Truthfully, it was one of the least popular kinds of techniques. It took too long to use, required the fight to be prolonged, and demanded absolute control of the rhythm. Most ignored it for those very reasons. But for Han, it was perfect.
And the wait was worth it.
When the dragon awoke, it did not lunge straight at his opponent. Han adjusted the angle, letting the impact be only indirect—and even so, the poor Yuan He youth was hurled out of the arena, unconscious, bleeding like a mosquito crushed by a human's hand.
The dragon of Qi roared skyward, splitting clouds in its wake. The once-overcast sky broke open, clear blue like a summer day.
The world fell silent.
The power of that strike was beyond anything an eighth-level Body Refinement cultivator should release. In truth, it was beyond even Han Qian, with his vaunted first-level Spiritual Refinement. Even cultivators at mid-stages of the Spiritual Refinement realm would struggle to defend against it.
And precisely because of that—
The impact terrified the crowd, froze the gazes of the three rival clans, and made the Zhuge name thunder in the air.
I merely leaned back.What use was hiding, when my brother was the destined protagonist to shake the heavens?
Of course, I would not flaunt my own power before the world... who knows what catastrophic existence that might draw? But a small display of strength... sometimes it was useful, if only to frighten the weak.
So.
I simply let Han shine.I let even the most ordinary of our youths step onto the stage... and become a dragon rising to the heavens.
I watched calmly as Han returned to our pavilion, spear still raised, face serene, as if nothing had happened—as if he hadn't just torn open the sky above the city.
The arena buzzed.Whispered comments, rushed calculations, hypotheses traded through clenched teeth. And among them, the ones that interested me most: greedy eyes.
I could read them like an open scroll.Not a single patriarch or elder in the stands failed to measure Han with their gaze, though some were more transparent than others.
Even the elder of the Dark Sun Sect, seated near the Han pavilion, was no exception.
And no wonder.
Up to now, the techniques displayed by the Zhuge clan had been refined, yes, but their true depth remained obscure. The youths had only just begun learning; execution was far from its peak.
But the Ascending Dragon Charge was another story.Even at its lowest mastery, it did not whisper—it roared to the heavens: "High level."
It was the kind of technique that could make even an elder of a colossus like the Dark Sun Sect lean forward.
Yet... I was not worried.
They were already our enemies.That fate was chosen neither by me nor by them—it was written by the narrative itself.
So... let them come.I already have plans for the future.
The tournament carried on, and this time it was a Zhuge elder's hand that dipped into the urn.No trick, no hidden intent. But fate, as always, had the irritating habit of inhaling the climax and demanding more, always more.
The slip drawn shaped a battle the stands themselves received as a promised spectacle.
— "Zhuge Ren versus Tie Xuan Mu Hai!" announced the judge.
A murmur swept through the rows like heavy wind.
Zhuge Ren was one of the "wall brothers"—the pair of brutes of our clan alongside Zhuge Rong. If Rong was a wall that could become a blade, Ren was simply a wall that liked to advance until the enemy fortress collapsed. Not the fastest, nor the most elegant, but every strike carried the weight of a lifetime of training to shatter stone.
He was probably the strongest cultivator the Zhuge clan had fielded in this tournament after Yu Jin.Of course, my brother is the protagonist—the narrative would allow nothing else.
Yet even with his imposing build, Ren seemed small before his opponent.
Tie Xuan Mu Hai—the number two of the Tie Xuan clan.And if the Tie Xuan heir bore the refined strength of a warrior shaped by martial etiquette, Mu Hai was the opposite: a cabinet of compact, hardened muscle, every fiber of his body carved by excessive physical training—more iron miner than cultivator.
And still, he carried a raw presence that made the air itself feel heavier.