Through Zhuge Su Yeon's Eyes
The second day of the tournament had begun early for the city… but not for Zhuge Su Yeon.
The arena gates were already open, and much of the audience had settled in when the Zhuge clan crossed the main entrance.
Once again, they were the last to arrive. Not that Yeon had made it a conscious habit—it would be unfair to accuse him of such a thing—but there was a difference between arriving "on time" and wasting precious minutes breathing the same restless air that dozens of young cultivators exhaled.
And yet, something felt different in the air.
Yeon noticed immediately—not through the instincts of a cultivator, but with the keen sense of a strategist.
The first change walked ahead of him.Yu Jin was not advancing alone this time. At his side, Yui Lan moved with a calm demeanor. That alone eased part of Yeon's mental burden. If she was content with simply watching the tournament matches, there would be no need for him to split his attention between the arena and one of her improvised adventures.
But the picture didn't end there. The Lan sisters had joined them as well.
And that was the curious part.Among the crowd of young cultivators, the progress of Lan Xue—the elder of the two—did not escape Yeon's eyes. Fifteen days ago, she had been an ordinary mortal, as suited for duels as a feather against a blade. Now, her cultivation had already reached the 3rd level of Body Refinement. It wasn't the kind of leap expected of protagonists like his siblings, but still... fifteen days, three sublevels—that was rather fast.
Even so, Yeon let the thought dissolve with a mental sigh.Raw talent? Possible. An Azure Potential? Maybe.
Some hidden narrative of fate, ready to explode into complications later? He wouldn't doubt it.
The second change lay in the air around them—and in the eyes that followed them.
Yesterday, the Zhuge clan's entrance had been met with a symphony of jeers, accompanied by disdainful stares and venomous whispers. Today, the scene was different.
When the Zhuge stepped into the main corridor, the sound that came from the stands was different: excitement, the kind of cheer one gives when a favorite actor walks onto the stage.
And the other clans? They were even more telling.
Gone were the speculative whispers of the day before, and gone was the gleam of greed in their eyes—that flicker that lit up at the thought of easy profit or a careless prey. In its place, something almost respectable emerged: caution.
Yeon held back the urge to smile openly, though amusement shimmered beneath his calm gaze.— These small clans... he thought, with silent satisfaction. They truly know how to plan.
He wasn't in a hurry.Neither were they, it seemed.And that was exactly what made the game interesting.
Not long after the Zhuge had settled into the seats reserved for their clan, Yeon had already found the perfect position in his chair—half reclining, hands resting on polished wood, eyes half-lidded like someone watching a play whose lines he already knew by heart.
The noise of the crowd still rumbled.
Patriarch Han rose from his central seat, his dark-blue robe swaying lightly with the motion. It was the unspoken gesture that marked the beginning and end of every important event in the city—and since the Han clan was the sharp blade among the local families, no one dared to speak over him.
The arena fell into silence.
— "Citizens of Gray Sky," he began, his deep voice carrying to the farthest rows. "Today, we proceed to the second round of our annual tournament. Yesterday, we witnessed the courage of our youth, the weight of the names they bear, and the spark of new talents rising among us. Today... we shall see who truly has the right to remain in the arena."
He paused, sweeping the audience with the calculated gaze of a man long accustomed to measuring reactions.
— "But first," he continued, his tone shifting toward the ceremonial, "let us honor the presence of our esteemed guest. In particular, the venerable elder of the Dark Sun Sect, whose experience and discernment add value to every duel fought under this sky."
A murmur spread through the stands—not as loud as yesterday, but still noticeable. The name of such a great sect carried a weight that the small folk of Gray Sky simply could not bear with ease.
Yeon didn't need to turn to know where the elder sat. He could feel the man's Qi like a patch of heat at the edge of his spiritual vision—firm, controlled.
Patriarch Han went on, lifting one hand in a gesture that demanded both attention and obedience:
— "Let the competitors remember: every strike in this arena is witnessed not only by your families... but by eyes that have seen the cultivation path to heights few dare to dream. Honor the blood that brought you here."
A wave of applause rippled through the crowd.
Yeon remained motionless, merely following the echo of the words.It was a polished speech, but predictable... and of course, he knew the mention of the Dark Sun elder was no accident.No.It was a seed planted in the middle of the arena, with a purpose still unrevealed.
Yesterday, Patriarch Han hadn't bothered to so directly announce the elder's presence.Not that it had been necessary.
Anyone with even a sliver of vision—spiritual or mundane—could see the man sitting in the Han pavilion, clad in the black and gold robes of his sect, his posture straight and unmoving like a sheathed blade. He needed no words to be noticed.
But today... today was different.
By choosing to declare his presence openly, Patriarch Han was not making a careless mistake, nor repeating a forgotten formality from the day before.No.It was positioning.
The message was clear, woven into the calculated weight of his voice and the way his eyes swept the stands after naming the elder.To the smaller clans, it was a reminder: the Han clan did not merely rule the city, but carried the shadow of a prestigious sect upon its shoulder.To rival clans, it was a warning: any reckless move today would not only be against the Han, but against that man—and by extension, against the Dark Sun Sect itself.
And there was yet another layer.
Until yesterday, the elder himself had maintained the comfortable neutrality of ancient observers. He could have interfered at any moment—and he hadn't. The arena could have been the stage for blatant injustices, and still, he would have been within his rights to remain motionless. That was the privilege of one who had not been directly called upon.
But today, with his name proclaimed before the entire city, the freedom to ignore had shrunk to nearly nothing.
It was a subtle, but clearer, choice of sides.A loud declaration, for all to hear: "If he must act, he will act on the right side."
Yeon, reclining as though the scene had nothing to do with him, understood every detail of this performance.It wasn't merely politics—it was theater.
If today, before the sun left the sky, there were to be an unfair clash, a suspicious disqualification, or a cowardly ambush, the elder could no longer simply turn away. Not now. Not after being announced as a guest of honor."Justice" was a duty of cultivators... and once exposed publicly, it became an obligation.
Of course, Yeon knew that this "justice" was nothing more than a staged duty—no different from what cultivators themselves would later recount, adorned with noble words and grand gestures. In the end, it was only the law of the strong: act when it benefits, protect when it serves, and above all, mold the meaning of right and wrong to the weight of one's own hand.
And he also knew what it truly meant.
Patriarch Han was setting the stage.The elder, even if not the playwright, had accepted his role.And the script—this, Yeon already knew well.
It was merely the prologue to an ending already written.An ending in which the pieces would move exactly as someone, somewhere, had planned.
Still, he could not deny: the script was finely woven.Meticulously crafted, as if every thread were pulled to provoke precisely the intended effect.
He only had to watch.At least for now.