From the perspective of Zhuge Su Yeon
The silence after the crash was heavier than the sound that preceded it.
The body of Tie Xuan's heir still lay motionless on the arena floor, strands of his aura dissipating like embers in the wind. The dust had not yet settled, and yet, the fight already felt distant — like a dream too short to be remembered.
Zhuge Su Yeon remained still, hands clasped behind his back, watching from afar. His eyes were not fixed on the defeated heir, but on the brother who remained standing, chest rising and falling in steady rhythm, without the slightest intention of concealing the flame that burned within him.
"He was not weak."
The thought surfaced like a stone cast into calm waters.
Tie Xuan was not the hollow product of his elders' arrogance. Even without their manipulation, he would have reached that stage. His strength was authentic, forged through years of careful cultivation. At the very least, he was on the same level as Yuan He Zhen, whom Yu Jin had already defeated.
But… the difference lay in the result.
And the reason was as simple as it was inevitable.
Yu Jin was learning.
It was not just the flame burning within him, but the way he allowed it to flow.
Before, in the forest, his only opponents had been spirit beasts: wild instincts, claws, and fangs. Forces that lunged at him without calculation, only with ferocity. Useful training, yes, but limited.
Now, facing real cultivators, Yu Jin encountered something new.
Techniques. Pride. Strategy.
Each opponent who fell before him was not just another obstacle removed, but a lesson carved into flesh and flame.
His hands, once used to cutting out of habit, now recognized the weight of each strike.
His eyes, once trained only to track beastly movements, now grasped the flaws in human defenses.
His body, once hardened only to endure, now began to respond naturally, as if he had fought men his entire life.
"It is not just about having strength… but about knowing how to use it."
Su Yeon's heart tightened, though his face betrayed nothing.
Each fight was a spark. Each victory, a flame that grew. Soon, the fire burning within his brother could no longer be contained by any arena.
It was only a matter of time.
With Tie Xuan's body removed from the arena — alive, though it would be months before he walked on his own again — and silence finally giving way to restless murmurs, the official count was announced.
Only five competitors remained.
Five.
And, to the utter dismay of the rival clans, four of those names shared the same blood.
The Zhuge.
The single exception was Han Qian — a lone flame trying to shine amid a sky already ablaze. His cultivation, at the first level of Spiritual Refinement, was considered dazzling by all local standards. But surrounded by the Zhuge siblings, his light seemed no more than a lantern beside blazing torches.
Su Yeon showed no reaction. His stance remained unshaken, as always.
But inside, he allowed himself a quiet laugh.
"My investment… yielded more than I expected."
Had the tournament ended then and there, he would already be satisfied with the results.
His family's name would echo through the city, and the rivals would be forced to swallow their humiliation in silence.
But there were still matches to be fought.
And first place was not merely a position — it was a symbol.
Symbols shaped perception.
And in this world, perception was as deadly as blades.
The master of ceremonies raised his voice, explaining the rule that would now apply.
With an odd number of participants, a factor cultivators both revered and feared came into play: luck.
In the center of the arena, five spiritual rods were placed, each imbued with jade inscriptions. Four of them glowed with runes of combat. One, and only one, remained empty.
Whoever drew it would advance directly to the next stage, conserving strength.
The crowd's eyes lit up.
Luck could be seen as mere whimsy, yet it often decided the fate of generations.
— "Each of you will advance and choose a rod," announced the referee. "Four will fight. One will rest."
Zhuge Su Yeon observed silently. Nothing about this was new to him.
The rule of the draw was ancient, repeated in every tournament in the region.
A trivial detail to the crowd, but to a strategist, it revealed much about the nature of the world.
With five competitors, luck decided who rested.
With three, the same would happen.
In the end, the arena was not merely a stage for strength — but also a board where Heaven rolled its dice.
If the fortunate one advanced to the final and won, the tournament would conclude simply, all positions settled without debate.
But if he lost… he would fall straight to third place.
An ironic fate: the most protected of all competitors, spared from wear, would end below those who had bled until the end.
There was, of course, the so-called "right of challenge."
The third place could demand a match against the second, disputing the position.
But Su Yeon knew well the futility of this privilege.
In the end, no one remembered the second or third.
On the lips of the people, there was only one name worthy of echoing: the absolute champion.
All the rest… were merely losers slightly stronger than the others.
Even so, he did not avert his gaze.
After all, even in a rigged game, every detail could be used.
And if his brothers truly were destined to be protagonists… it was better he learned to read even the whims of luck.
The drawing was carried out with solemnity. Five rods raised, five hands extended.
In the end, the empty jade rested in Han Qian's hand.
A murmur rippled through the stands, a mixture of surprise and approval.
He was the lucky one of the round.
A full rest until the next stage.
Zhuge Su Yeon followed the scene in silence, eyes half-closed. There was no strange fluctuation of Qi in the arena, no hidden manipulation, no invisible pressure. It was, indeed, pure luck.
"Interesting… so the Han chose not to pull the strings this time."
Perhaps they deemed it pointless.
Perhaps they believed Han Qian could defeat any of the Zhuge youths regardless.
Or perhaps it was simply pride: the blind confidence that the strength of a legitimate heir needed no tricks.
Either way, it mattered little. The die had been cast.
And for Su Yeon, the result was slightly inconvenient.
After all, four competitors remained… all from his clan.
And only two slots.
A rare situation, almost comical — if not tragic for the rivals. The crowd did not know whether to laugh or seethe with rage. Murmurs grew, heavy as contained thunder.
The master of ceremonies wasted no time in prolonging the suspense. He soon announced the first match:
— "Zhuge Ren versus Zhuge Fen!"
Had the fight truly happened, it would have been a spectacle.
Ren was like a rock: steady, dense, impossible to topple without preparation.
Fen, in contrast, specialized in breaking rocks — speed, aggression, precise strikes.
The two had never seriously faced one another. Not even Su Yeon could predict the outcome.
But there was no fight.
Fen still bore wounds from the previous round. The effort had already been enough, and flaunting himself before so many eyes would only provide material for enemies.
Su Yeon did not hesitate.
— "Surrender," he said, voice low but firm.
Fen obeyed without protest. It was not cowardice, but strategy.
The arena remained untouched.
The second duel was announced:
— "Zhuge Yu Jin versus Zhuge Han!"
Yu Jin lifted his gaze to Han, and the gleam in his eyes betrayed a strange excitement.
He did not seem to fear the fight; on the contrary, he seemed eager.
As if facing the charge of an ascending dragon head-on was not madness, but a thrilling adventure — this was the spirit of the protagonist speaking louder.
The fire within him burned, begging for new limits.
Han, more sensible, averted his eyes from his brother and turned them to me.
For a moment, silence lingered.
There was implicit meaning in the exchange of glances.
And Su Yeon did not break it. He only gave a slight nod, as if confirming the obvious.
— "Withdraw."
If it had been another, perhaps honor would have demanded acceptance of the fight, even against a fellow clansman. But this was not Han.
And in the end, Su Yeon had no time for useless formalities.
Yu Jin and Han could have traded friendly blows, made a fine show for the crowd, but that would only delay the inevitable.
"There is no point wasting time on spectacle… when the result is already written."
And after all, Su Yeon still had more pressing plans than watching a meaningless fight: to return home early and cultivate in peace.
Thus, two rounds passed without the arena even feeling the weight of a step.
The crowd murmured, some disappointed, others unsettled.
But for Su Yeon, each choice was simply another move in protecting the clan.
Only three competitors remained.
And a new draw was held.
This time, luck fell to Yu Jin.
He would advance straight to the final, conserving his strength.
The consequence was immediate:
an inevitable confrontation, one even Su Yeon could not help but watch with genuine interest.
— "Zhuge Ren versus Han Qian."
A cultivator at the first level of Spiritual Refinement against the clan's unshakable rock.
Strength versus solidity.
Pride versus discipline.
For the first time in that round, Su Yeon allowed himself to lean slightly forward, observing with genuine curiosity.
"At last… a fight worth watching."