Through Zhuge Su Yeon's Eyes
Lin returned to the Zhuge pavilion with her usual calm stride, but the weight on her shoulders seemed heavier. She didn't look injured—not physically, at least.
Before she could sit down, I raised my hand.— "Lin. Come here."
There was the faintest pause in her steps. The kind of hesitation that lasts less than a breath, yet reveals far more than words. Still, she obeyed, approaching with the proper posture of a disciple before her patriarch.
When she came within reach, I lifted my hand.— "Allow me to check your pulse."
Another moment of silence. A spark of surprise flashed in her eyes before being quickly extinguished. Even so, she extended her arm.
Such simple, almost trivial gestures had the predictable—and irritating—effect of drawing eyes.
Even my little sister raised a brow, clearly intrigued.
I ignored them all.
They could drown in curiosity if they wished; I had something far more important to do.
My spiritual energy, like heaven and earth, flowed into Lin's body with the softness of a breeze over a lake. No discomfort, no intrusion. Just a thread of light running through her meridians.
What I found wasn't a surprise—only the confirmation of a silent hypothesis.
It wasn't just today's fight. Nor only yesterday's.
Yesterday, Lin's strikes had already shown a certain predictability... but not the embarrassing level I saw today. The difference didn't come from her opponent, nor from fatigue, nor from tactical error. It was something else... something that couldn't exist without an internal cause.
It didn't take long for a suspicion to form.It was as though something suppressed Lin at certain times of day.
And that, without any plausible explanation, could only mean one thing: a Martial Physique.
The system had already confirmed my suspicion, but now, with my energy coursing through her body, I felt it clearly. Lin was restrained. Restricted. For some reason, the tide of her power could not rise under the midday sun.
That was enough for me.
I slowly withdrew my hand and looked at her. Her head bowed, her posture firm, yet the weight of frustration was plain to see.
— "Don't dwell on this fight," I said, measuring every word. "I didn't ask you to forfeit without reason. Soon, you'll understand."
— "Yes, Patriarch." Her voice was obedient, but not resigned.
I knew my social skills would be useless here. I had no intention of forcing a hollow closeness either. Fortunately, I had found an expert in weaving such invisible threads earlier today.
My eyes sought my sister, who had been observing quietly. Just a glance and a subtle motion were enough for her to understand.
Yui Lan approached with the calm serenity of someone already prepared for her role.— "Lin, come with me. I'll check your injuries."
And so, she led the girl away, under the simple guise of medical care.
I was satisfied.
.
My gaze followed Yui Lan and Lin for a few steps before turning back to the arena... only to drift away again.
The final fights of the second round had lost all meaning for me. Something far more important occupied my thoughts.
Martial Physiques.Intriguing, complex, and, above all, rare to the point of absurdity.
I knew—better than most—that they weren't an automatic promise of glory, nor unbreakable chains for the present. There was no neat equation dictating: "possess one, and you'll reach immortality."
But of course, in the hands of the right cultivator, a Martial Physique could amplify results so brutally that the word "advantage" became an insult.
I knew this well.My own Martial Physique was... simply insane. One of those that, if described to any cultivator, would make them curse the heavens as unjust.
The fundamental difference between Martial Physique and spiritual potential was simple: the latter everyone had—from the most miserable to the most brilliant. The former, no.
It was almost a whim of fate.
If a child was born of parents with no Martial Physique, the chance of a mutant physique emerging was... one in a billion.If one parent had one, the chance rose to under 1%—and even then, it might only mean direct inheritance, not mutation. A slightly greater chance existed for a mutant physique... perhaps one in a hundred million.
But if both parents possessed Martial Physiques, the numbers shifted: about 1% chance to inherit one... and a remote, but more possible, chance of one in a million for a mutant physique.
With odds like that, it was natural even among families brimming with "protagonists" that cases remained vanishingly rare.The Zhuge clan was just a drop in that ocean—fewer than one hundred and fifty members.
So small that, honestly, I hadn't expected to find another Martial Physique among us, beyond my own and those I already suspected my siblings carried.
But it seemed I had underestimated how fond narrative was of showering its protagonists with favors.
Not that I would complain.My system was tied directly to the Zhuge clan, so the more absurd the clan became... the better for me.
Lost in thought, I barely noticed when the second round came to an end.
Twenty competitors remained.Ten of them soon to be hailed as "the city's best" until another tournament replaced them.
Among those twenty, five bore the Zhuge name:Yu Jin, Ren, Han, Fen, and Tao.
Of the five, only Yu Jin and Ren had reached the ninth level of Body Refinement.Han, Fen, and Tao had yet to cross that boundary, but advanced as though it didn't exist.
And outside my clan, there was only one other person who shared this "audacity of the lower levels": Yuan He Lin.
Of course... there was also Han Qian—the strongest of the Hans, a cultivator at the first level of Spiritual Refinement. To any observer, he was the most dangerous name on the list.
The herald announced an intermission.
A moment of rest for the competitors.
The murmurs in the stands dimmed in volume but not in tension. Groups gathered in corners like swarms of bees, each carrying pouches of coins for betting.
I, on the other hand, remained seated.
Mei Lan approached silently, carrying a small tray of polished wood, where rested rice cakes dusted with black sesame, thin slices of spiritual meat, and a pot of aromatic tea.I took one of the cakes—more for the gesture than hunger—and bit slowly, feeling its firm texture dissolve between my teeth.
The situation was clear.I had five competitors left in my clan, and truthfully, I didn't believe any of them would be eliminated.
Perhaps the only element that could break that conviction was Han Qian, with his cultivation at the first level of Spiritual Refinement.
Whether one of my youths would face him now, or only in the finals... that was for fate to decide.