Through Zhuge Su Yeon's Eyes
After the fall of the Tie Xuan boy, the arena didn't move.There was no immediate announcement of the next duel.
The official excuse sounded dramatic enough to satisfy the crowd:they needed to carefully remove the youth, since his state hovered between life and death.
A good smokescreen, giving the other clans time to adjust their plans.
I didn't mind.Even if the delay scraped against my intention of ending the day early.
At least the Tie Xuan weren't foolish enough to repeat the Han's ridiculous farce—accusing a fourteen-year-old girl of being "too brutal" for the arena would've been laughable.Imagining an entire clan smearing their own pride by whining over a lost duel...It was pathetic the first time, and it would've been embarrassing the second.
At last, the wait ended.
When the herald finally rose, the weight in his voice carried not only duty, but also the decisions made behind the curtains.— "Zhuge Tao!"
The murmur rippling through the stands was easy to read:contained surprise, sharpened expectation.
Tao, seventh level of Body Refinement.Among all the names still in the competition, the lowest cultivation.The simplest target.
His opponent was called soon after.A cultivator at the ninth level.
The meaning needed no translation.The old tactic of cutting at the root—or in this case, of trying to pull out the thinnest one.Eliminate Tao early, and with him, the momentum of the "Zhuge offensive" being built.
Unfortunately for them, easy expectations have a habit of breaking.
Zhuge Tao was no beast like Fen.He didn't have that predator's instinct that turned every step into a threat.But even so... he was also a genius.
Even if it pained me to admit it.
The problem—and here lay the bitter seasoning—was that he was an absurdly lazy genius.By far, among my ten prodigies, the one who demanded the most of me not in resources, but in patience.
His training, if unwatched, tended to dissolve into long "strategic" breaks in the shade of some tree or the suspicious comfort of a sunny rooftop.He didn't train until he collapsed from exhaustion—he trained until he found a good excuse to stop.
And yet... there was something in him the rival clans didn't know.
Zhuge Tao rose with the same lazy calm as always, that silly, almost insolent smile stuck to his face as though it were part of his natural expression.He began descending the steps to the arena, twirling his black staff in wide, unhurried motions that looked more like warm-ups than preparation for combat.
The scene was identical to the day before, when he had ended the tournament with a strike as unexpected as it was simple.There was no urgency in him, no weight, no tension. Just a youth with a relaxed posture walking toward the arena.
Only when his feet touched the arena floor did Tao take a deep breath.And his smile vanished.
A wave of blue Qi began to form around him, like dense mist condensing on heated stone. The lines of his body adjusted, the staff ceased its spin, and his stance solidified, as if he had finally decided to enter battle mode.
Balanced Fury Body.The body cultivation technique I had chosen for him.
I was forced to admit, even without pleasure in it: among all the techniques I had distributed to my ten prodigies, this one had been my most profitable choice.Not for spectacle—that crown still belonged to Han's Rising Dragon Charge, which could turn any duel into a moment worthy of legend.Not for lethality—that throne was Lin's Silent Mind's Gaze, capable of ending a fight before the enemy even realized it had begun.
No.Tao's technique was the most profitable because it fit him with irritating precision.His bad personality—his laziness, his apparent lack of commitment, his near-pathological disinterest—didn't weaken the technique. On the contrary.The Balanced Fury Body didn't rely on constant action or rapid exchanges. It thrived on contained moments, then exploded in short, precise bursts.
In some ways, it resembled a mental cultivation art more than a body one.
The fight began without delay.
Tao's opponent was visibly cautious.Every step, every angle, every weight shift was calculated as if to avoid being caught off guard by another Zhuge.The intent was clear: not to be deceived by appearances.
Unfortunately for him, it was useless.There is no preparing for what you don't know exists.
In the opening moments, the fight followed predictable balance.Simple exchanges, the sharp sound of the staff intercepting or diverting short-blade strikes. Tao yielded slightly in brute strength, pushed back step by step.Nothing alarming.
Still, his opponent remained cautious.No rush, no careless attacks. Only steady advances, measured, like someone dismantling a wall stone by stone.
A commendable effort... and utterly in vain.
After a few more exchanges, it happened.Without warning, without stance, Tao simply... vanished.
To the audience, it was as if the air had swallowed him.To his opponent, just a sudden emptiness before his eyes.
The next sign of Zhuge Tao's existence was the blunt impact of the black staff against the back of his opponent's neck.A precise, clean strike that snuffed out consciousness instantly.
The body dropped forward, heavy as a sack, just like the last opponent who had faced Tao the day before.
Even being two levels above him, there was no way anyone could defend against such a strike from an angle they simply couldn't see—not at the Body Refinement stage, where one was little more than a person with brute strength, still far from the wonders spiritual energy granted a cultivator.
I sighed inwardly.
Motivating someone like him was already difficult by nature.When his opponents fell this easily—without demanding the slightest effort—it only gave Tao another reason to keep believing training was optional, not necessary.
Something I knew, unfortunately, he would pay for one day.
Tao's victory marked the twenty-fourth fight of the day.There were still just under twenty matches left in the second round before the qualifiers began—and from this point on, among ours, only Zhuge Lin had yet to step into the arena.
Something I felt wouldn't happen so soon.
And as expected, for the next ten fights, no Zhuge was called.
To the public, it seemed natural.The other clans had more competitors, and the flow of the rounds favored such alternation.But I knew it wasn't mere coincidence.
Unable to defeat us cleanly again, they had chosen another tactic.
Let the heat of our presence dissolve, delay our appearances, let the flame die out with time.
Not that I was in a hurry.Perhaps they were carefully choosing who should face Lin.A wasted effort.
Except for Yu Jin—who, by a stroke of luck so ridiculously convenient it could only have been written by lazy hands—had stumbled upon an absurd mental cultivation technique written by our own father, something not even I had known about, no one in this tournament could stand against Lin if she chose to use her mental art.
Our father...I truly didn't believe he was dead.Not just out of intuition or personal faith, but by narrative logic.How could the protagonist's father be a simple man?How could he die in some trivial way?Impossible.Fate was certainly keeping his return for the right moment.I just didn't know when.
And yes... that thought warmed my heart.Who wouldn't worry about their own parents, after all?
If not for the responsibility I carried for the clan and my siblings, I would've already gone searching for them.
But the fact remained:Aside from Yu Jin, with his formidable mental cultivation technique inherited by chance, no one here could face Lin and expect to walk away unscathed.
I had no doubt that, given the right opportunity, Lin could even defeat someone at the Spiritual Refinement stage.Of course, that required two clear conditions:the perfect moment to strike—and the willingness to stain her hands with blood.
Because without a lethal blow, there would always be room for the unexpected.