From the perspective of Zhuge Yu Jin
The silence after Han Qian's fall was not celebration, it was weight.
I was standing, but only out of stubbornness. Every bone felt ready to shatter, every muscle screamed in unison, and yet my hands would not release the saber. Not out of pride, not out of glory… but because, if I let go, I would collapse as well.
The black iron buried in the ground held my body like the cane of an old warrior. My breath was harsh fire, tearing at throat and lungs, and even my vision began to blur at the edges.
That was when it came.
A voice.
Low, but cutting.
A sound that belonged neither to the audience nor the elders, but that pierced the entire arena like an inevitable sentence.
— Boy, you are far too cruel… allow me to educate you.
There was no time to doubt.
The flames appeared.
Not red, not golden, but black. Black as cracks torn open in reality itself. They did not burn like fire — they suffocated like shadow. An impossible heat, without light, surged toward me like a sea of damnation.
My fingers clenched around the saber's hilt, but there was no strength to raise the blade. No body, no Qi. Only the raw, simple certainty: I could not resist.
In that instant, as the heat brushed against my skin, I understood.
It was death.
But then…
The flames trembled.
The shadowy roar lost its voice.
And, before my eyes, that black ocean shattered into sparks. Sparks without weight, without power, drifting away like ashes scattered by the wind.
I knew.
Before even lifting my eyes, I knew who had done it.
The dry, rhythmic sound of fingers tapping against the arm of a chair echoed in my mind.
A simple gesture, yet absolute.
My brother had acted.
The heart, still fighting not to collapse, beat once more, heavy. And in that space, between one breath and the next, I heard.
A different voice.
Not external, not from the arena, but rising within me.
Ancient.
As if it had crossed through ages just to find me.
— I warned you. Leave these small fry to your brother. None of them can do anything.
The silence.
Not the ordinary silence of a stunned crowd, but the heavy silence that suffocates and traps the air in one's chest.
That was all that remained in the arena after the black flames vanished into sparks.
My eyes, blurred with exhaustion, sought the attacker.
The elder of the Dark Sun Sect.
He sat among his own, posture erect as though merely a spectator. But he wasn't. It had been him, and everyone knew it.
His eyes were no longer on me.
No.
They rested upon another figure.
Upon the one who, still seated, still holding his teacup, seemed detached from the commotion.
My brother.
Zhuge Su Yeon had not moved a visible finger. His expression remained the same as always: calm, unshaken, almost bored. His hand held the cup with the casual grace of one enjoying a common spectacle.
And then I understood.
If they expected him to break the silence, they were lost.
My brother would not speak.
He was probably even entertained by the scene, while the entire world held its breath.
Time dragged on.
Until the elder's voice, dripping with scorn and threat, finally tore the air:
— Do you intend to stop me from educating him?
The words were framed as a question, but carried the weight of a sentence.
The pressure released with them flooded the arena, like a black sea crashing upon us all.
I could not measure his strength precisely.
But I knew one thing: this man was not on the same level as the youths of the arena.
His presence was firm, solid, and his Qi burned like a hidden furnace.
At the very least, the Spirit Condensation Realm.
His pressure struck me head-on.
My knees, already weakened by the fight, creaked, nearly giving way.
My saber trembled in my hands.
The mere will of that man was enough to bend my body.
It was then that the answer came.
Not from the stands.
Not from the elders.
But from a voice molded by silence itself.
— You may do as you wish… provided you have the ability to do it.
My whole body trembled.
With those words came a presence.
And it did not merely withstand the elder's pressure — it crushed it, smothered it, like a mountain engulfing hills.
Suddenly, I breathed.
The weight on my shoulders dissipated, strength returned to my legs, and I raised the saber firmly once more.
It was as if an invisible hand had brushed the darkness from my skin.
In the air, invisible to ordinary eyes, the two presences collided.
They had no form, but the world trembled in answer.
I could feel each wave vibrating in my bones — a clash of wills, a duel of lions, roars that required no sound to be heard.
The elder spoke again then, his voice deep, as one recognizing the adversary before him:
— Spirit Condensation Realm… I see. So that is where your confidence comes from.
His aura surged, black flames twisting around his body.
And he finished, sharp as a blade that does not retreat:
— But do not think that alone can stop me.
His eyes returned to me.
And in that instant, the world shook.
He moved.
Too fast.
So fast there was no time for reaction, not even thought.
The flames took form in his hands, fingers curled like black claws reaching for me.
My body no longer obeyed.
All I could see was death rushing toward me.
But in the next moment…
White robes appeared before me.
Clean fabric, simple, marked only by a discreet embroidery: the blue swan of the heavens.
My brother's back.
The sound of his voice, cold and absolute, did not reach my ears but my mind directly:
— Close your eyes.
My weary mind was too slow to obey.
And then it came.
Light.
A light so intense the world dissolved into white.
No heat, no flame, no thunder — only light.
So strong I thought I had gone blind.
My eyes burned.
My knees, already weak, finally gave out.
I leaned on the saber, crouching upon the arena stones.
Slowly, vision returned.
Gray smudges first, then shapes, then colors.
And, at last, the scene before me changed.
Han Qian still lay fallen, unconscious, alive only because I had shown him mercy.
But now he was not alone.
Beside him, an elder of his sect.
Half his body burned, his robes in tatters, his skin scarred by flames not of this world.
His eyes were wide, fixed in my direction.
But I knew.
He was not looking at me.
The terror on his face was not for me.
It was for my brother, who stood before me, erect, calm, as though nothing had happened.
My eyes turned to him.
My brother did not look at the burned elder, nor at Han Qian sprawled upon the ground.
No.
His gaze was lifted.
At the sky, already shifting colors, the sun dangling like a weary lamp, yielding space to the night advancing in slow steps.
He remained like that for moments, as if the spectacle of a colossus' fall were but a minor distraction compared to the eternal routine of sun and moon.
Then, he turned to me.
— This afternoon, we should go home.
Simple.
As if the arena had not become a stage of chaos, as if colliding presences had not shaken the heavens of Grey Sky City.
Just that: go home.
He turned, and with a casual wave toward the stands, as though closing a mundane ceremony, he summoned everyone to depart.
And he began to walk away, calmly, each step quieter than the last.
It was then that one of our clan elders came to me.
I knew him well — one who had always looked at me with coldness, with that air of judgment heavy as shadow.
But now, as he held my shoulders and helped me rise, his eyes were different.
There was no ice in them.
Only respect.
As I leaned on him, I heard the voice that broke the silence of the arena.
— Do you truly think you can stand against the Dark Sun Sect and continue living in peace?
It was the burned elder, lying on the ground, still firm enough to spit venom.
And it was not an insult aimed at us alone.
It was a threat.
A threat against the entire clan.
I knew its weight.
We all knew.
The Dark Sun Sect was a colossus.
A single gesture from them could crush Grey Sky City entirely, as one turns the palm of the hand.
My brother stopped.
He did not turn.
He only looked back over his shoulder, his body still facing the way home.
His words were short.
And yet, they etched themselves into me with the force of a decree:
— Then do your best.
No explanation.
No argument.
Only the calm disdain of one who does not fear the colossus, for he already lives daily with something greater: the silence that despises noise.
He walked on.
And in that moment, he seemed more interested in the old walls of the Zhuge Clan rising in the distance than in the entire weight of the world leaning against us.
Even before the threat of the Dark Sun Sect…
My brother was still my brother.