Through Zhuge Su Yeon's Eyes
It was impossible to deny.Even if my nature urged me toward automatic denial.
The Zhuge clan had conquered the arena.
The effect of the previous day still lingered over the stands like a persistent perfume.All it took was for a Zhuge name to be called, and the air would shift.
Voices surged like raging tides, vibrating with a blend of excitement and anticipation.
It wasn't mere cheering.
The crowd had decided that, at least for now, we were their champions—and, like all audiences, they treated our victories as though they were their own by right.
But to the disappointment of these new fans, the other clans seemed to have learned their lesson before the first fight of the day even began.
They simply weren't willing to offer us more opportunities to "shine."
The proof came the instant Zhuge Han's name was called.The arena floor shook with the crowd's response, and even the air seemed to hum with expectation.On the opposite side, a youth from the Yuan He family took two steps forward... and stopped.A cultivator at the ninth level of Body Refinement—one whole stage above Han.In theory, the advantage was his.In practice, he chose something far more sensible—or cowardly, depending on one's perspective.
He surrendered before his feet even touched the arena.
No wounds, no signs of a fight. Just a name crossed off the list, and a Zhuge walking away unscathed.
I saw the fear in him. It was there, so clear that even a casual glance could catch it: the tension in his shoulders, the clench of his fingers, the way he avoided looking Han in the eye.But it wasn't only fear.It was strategy.
The "Rising Dragon Charge" isn't just a technique. It's a ticket to the kind of injury that takes weeks to heal and leaves scars inside.No rational cultivator would stand in front of it without absolute confidence they could stop it.The Yuan He, it seemed—or at least for now—did not have that ability.
And the logic didn't stop there.
When Zhuge Ren was called in the fourth match, the same thing happened.The opponent, from a clan that yesterday had looked eager to beat down any Zhuge who stepped into the arena, simply announced his withdrawal.
The message was clear: if they couldn't stop us, they'd avoid us.They would let the winds of the tournament turn against us—not through direct combat, but through absence.
It wasn't until the seventh match that the pattern broke.Ironically, with the very one who should have inspired even more caution: Zhuge Yu Jin.
His name echoed through the arena, and the reaction was almost... childlike.The crowd leaned forward, as if they weren't about to watch a duel, but a rare spectacle.His opponent, unlike the others, didn't back down.
Foolish.
If they feared Han and Ren, they should fear Yu Jin as though the heavens themselves were about to collapse.
After all, he wasn't just another participant. He was the protagonist of this tournament—with everything that narrative role implied.
And narratives rarely favored subtlety.
The fight lasted a single move.One punch.Simple, direct, devastating.
The opponent was flung out of the arena faster than he'd likely walked into it.Even from a distance, I could tell Yu Jin had used more force than he had yesterday.Not out of necessity.But perhaps because today, a certain beauty was watching—or at least, that was my guess.
And let's be honest... what kind of protagonist wastes a chance to show off?
I understood perfectly well the actions of the rival clans.In fact... I approved.
If they truly believed this string of forfeits would disrupt my plans, they couldn't be more mistaken.To me, every fight that didn't happen was a gift wrapped in silk.The loss of crowd attention? Irrelevant.The real prize was shortening this noisy spectacle so I could return to my peace.
If they all simply avoided the Zhuge, it would be perfect.The tournament would end faster, and I could spend the afternoon cultivating—or sleeping—without having to endure fiery speeches, heroic narratives, or exaggerated applause.
Unfortunately... perfection is rarely something fate grants so freely.
It seemed Ren and Han were the only ones who had truly unsettled the rival clans the day before.In the twelfth match, the name that echoed through the arena corridor was: Zhuge Wen.
His opponent, a youth of the Han clan, didn't hesitate.He chose to fight.
If he hadn't, even I would have judged him.
Wen had the lowest cultivation among all the youths of our clan—only the sixth level of Body Refinement.And that was already a significant improvement, considering he had started his preparation at the fourth level.As if that weren't enough, he was still adapting to a new fighting style, trading blades for bow and arrow.
Not the simplest shift for a cultivator.
Meanwhile, his opponent stood at the ninth level.Three full stages of difference.An abyss.
To be clear: even a protagonist like Yu Jin would feel suffocated before such a gap.But Wen hadn't entered the arena to kneel.
His first moves revealed his bet: the Heavenly Balance Steps.An Earth-grade technique. Not as fast as the best movement arts, but refined in a way that made it unique: absolute balance.The kind of step that turned every dodge into something choreographed, as though his body were guided by an invisible metronome.
His opponent, despite using an inferior technique, had the overwhelming advantage of both quantity and quality of Qi.That alone was enough to close the distance and catch up to Wen.
But catching up and landing a blow are very different things.
Even in motion, Wen slipped past each strike with precision irritating enough to enrage anyone on the other side.Blades, fists, sweeping kicks—all missed by mere inches, as if he had measured them before they were even thrown.It was a subtle display, but one that didn't go unnoticed by those who knew what they were watching.
The problem was that, when fighting someone so far ahead in cultivation, dodging wasn't enough.
Wen counterattacked whenever he could, firing ordinary arrows and others imbued with the Heavenly Roar.Unfortunately, none managed to pierce his opponent's defenses.The dense Qi and solid foundation of the ninth level nullified every impact, as if the arrows were nothing more than rain against stone.
The battle reached an irritating stalemate:one couldn't land a hit, the other couldn't deal damage.
In the end, the outcome was inevitable.With such a gap in cultivation, Wen was burning energy at a pace he couldn't sustain.With each step, his breath shortened; with each shot, the glow of the Heavenly Roar dimmed.
When the last thread of Qi slipped from his control, he lowered his bow and admitted defeat.Not for lack of skill... but because his body simply had nothing left to give.
He left the arena with his head held high.And, to my surprise, with applause.Perhaps the crowd had realized that, in a fair fight, he wouldn't have lost.
I approved of the style Wen was beginning, step by step, to forge.He wasn't a reckless warrior, nor a cultivator who poured everything into brute strength.It was something more meticulous.Technical.Strategic.
A pattern I identified with myself.
I recognized in him the same quiet care I applied to my own steps—the habit of weighing every move before acting, of choosing the right moment to strike and, more importantly, the right moment to retreat.
As for the defeat... well, a loss is simply that: a loss.There was no drama in it.I wasn't worried.
Wen's path would not end in an arena surrounded by fleeting applause.And if he continued refining this style, his future would be of an entirely different level.
With Wen's fight over, I thought I could lean back in my chair and ignore half a dozen pointless matches until another Zhuge was called.
But fate, as always, has a sharp ear for my wishes—and a nearly sick delight in denying them.
Right after Wen left the arena, the next name echoed through the corridor:
— "Zhuge Min!"
There was still a trace of applause lingering when the second name was announced:
— "Yuan He Lin!"
That drew from the crowd a roar born of genuine anticipation.
He Lin was no ordinary competitor.She was the direct heiress of the Yuan He clan, carrying the reputation of an entire lineage on her shoulders.Moreover, she wasn't known for a brutal or overwhelming style... but for something laymen might call "a dance."I would call it hypnosis in motion.
It would be an interesting fight.Min, with her unsheathed-blade temper, cultivated explosive fury—the kind that never stopped until everything around her was reduced to silence or rubble.Lin, on the other hand, moved like water under light: fluid, sinuous, always leading her opponent one step toward imbalance without them realizing it.
Fury against dance.Impact against flow.
The kind of duel that, even for someone who avoids spectacles like me, seemed worth watching.