Through Zhuge Su Yeon's Eyes
Ren had not yet brought the Tempered Golden Body to perfect mastery, but even its initial stage was enough to make him untouchable by anything short of a spiritual-grade weapon.And such weapons... were nearly nonexistent within Gray Sky City.
Without that minimum threshold, any strike against Ren was just wasted effort.It was like trying to scratch iron with a goose feather—the form was there, but the essence was not.
The matches continued, and soon fate decided to place two more of my youths back onto the stage.
The first to return was Zhuge Fen, to "play a little more."Her opponent this time was no weakling... but still useless before Fen.Like all ten of the prodigies I was molding, Fen naturally had weaknesses—and hers was the most glaring: her body.Her frame was simply fragile.
In another kind of battle, against someone who could actually land a hit...
That might have been a problem.
Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on which side of the stands one sat—none of her opponents so far had the speed or technique to touch her.
And when a weakness cannot be exploited... only strength remains.
The outcome was predictable: clean cuts, carved by Fen's daggers.In the end, her opponent added nothing but another wounded body to the silent trail she left across the arena.
Next came Tao.
His weakness wasn't in his body—the Balanced Fury Body technique gave him enough resilience to endure more than his lazy posture suggested.It wasn't invincible, but it was enough to withstand ordinary blows.The problem lay at the other end: his strikes.Simple, direct... and lacking any martial technique to give them true weight.
If Tao faced someone properly prepared, this could have cost him dearly.But it seemed the heavens were determined to keep rewarding his laziness.Every opponent he faced in this tournament seemed to come from family greenhouses—flowers carefully cultivated, never touched by storm.When the arena's reality struck, they had nothing but high cultivation to lean on... and cultivation alone cannot block a staff crashing into the back of your neck.
Tao's third opponent fell exactly that way.One dry, unhurried strike, ending another fight with the same ease as closing a door.
The matches felt almost like replays at times, especially those of Ren and Tao.
And so, when the herald announced his advancement, there were already four Zhuge among the top ten.A feat that, to anyone who understood how internal rivalries in the city worked, spelled nothing good for the other four clans.
But there was still one last Zhuge to step onto the stage at this stage.The one destiny itself had already stamped as the protagonist: Zhuge Yu Jin.
His fist was clenched.Not in rage, not in anxiety—but with the simple resolve of someone ready to shoulder a heavy weight.It was the posture of a warrior who hears the thunder before seeing the storm.
Ready for what was to come.Ready to bear the weight of every gaze that would inevitably fall on him.Ready to face whatever fate chose to place in his path.
I remained seated, letting the murmur of the arena wash over me like wind against a pavilion's walls.
And, in the end, as always, the things that were meant to arrive... arrived.
Yu Jin's name echoed from the herald's voice only in the tenth fight.The last of the qualifying round.
His opponent was the first step of the steep staircase every protagonist must climb.
— "Yuan He Zhen."
I couldn't help but arch a brow.That was no ordinary name.
He was someone who, throughout this tournament, had become harder and harder to ignore.
Zhen was not the heir.Not the clan's star.He was, from what was said, a member of a branch family—one of those names that, until last week, existed only to fill rosters and ensure the family had "representation" in the draw.But a few duels were enough to change that.
His opening performance had been a modest surprise: a quick victory, unshowy, just enough for attentive patriarchs to raise a brow and mark his name.The second fight was different—and there his talent began to shine brighter.Precise movements, flawless reading of his opponent, and a use of Qi that not only attacked and defended, but stitched the battlefield together as though arranging each enemy step for the kill.
The Yuan He patriarch, who until then had watched him with the neutral expression reserved for peripheral family members, began to change.With every victory, a different gesture: a slower nod, a brief word afterward, a seat closer to the seats of honor.It was the natural progression of a genius revealed—a mix of surprise and appropriation, as though to say: we always knew he had talent, even if no one noticed until now.
Inevitable comparisons arose.Zhen had already surpassed, in display, the heir defeated by Rong.In some respects, even Yuan He Lin—who had humiliated Min with an overwhelming victory—seemed less... sharp.Lin fought with elegance and control.Zhen, on the other hand, radiated the unsettling sense that the fight was never in the opponent's hands—only in his.
And now, this newly discovered genius stood before my little brother.
And I knew.He was, naturally, the first true obstacle on Yu Jin's path to the throne of glory the tournament insisted on carving for him.
And like every proper obstacle, he wasn't there to be ignored.
Yu Jin descended the competitor's steps without haste.
His shoulders squared, and the fist once clenched now seemed a natural extension of his body, as though he had been born to crush something.His eyes, until then calm, gained that cutting gleam that betrays a predator in the heartbeat before it pounces.Neutrality was gone.
I could feel his determination rising—it was almost a warning flare for everyone present.
I had no doubt: from this moment on, he would burn his enemies.Not merely win—that was too little.Every exchange of blows would be a spark, every strike, a blaze.And if Yuan He Zhen truly was the obstacle everyone believed, then he would also be the first to taste the bitter truth of being consumed by that fire.