From the perspective of Zhuge Su Yeon
Unfortunately, at that moment, I was not listening to my sister to hear about my new nickname. The rumors that echoed through the streets of Grey Sky also did not reach my ears, while they nearly drove hers to madness — and not without reason.
But not out of respect for her medical privacy, nor out of fraternal delicacy.
The simple truth was that I was not in Grey Sky.
While the city buzzed with echoes of glory, I was far, very far away, on a silent journey that no one followed.
The roads were narrow and cold, stitched together by snow that did not melt even under the sun. Frozen gravel cracked beneath my boots, and the wind blew like invisible blades that seeped through my clothes, cutting skin and bone. Each breath was an ice crystal burning in my throat.
It was the typical landscape of what this world called the Far North — the Land of Pale Frosts.
A name far too poetic to describe an end of the world where even crows seemed hesitant to fly.
I had spent weeks searching everything I could: dusty clan libraries, tales of drunk travelers, even the distorted stories of old mourners by the market's edge. Little by little, I gathered enough pieces to build a mental cartography of this continent they call the Western Desolate.
Not that it was very reliable — maps here seemed more like divinations than science. Even so, I traced some certainties:
The continent was divided into eight main regions.
I only knew one by name: my own, the Far North.
Within it rose the White Flame Empire, small and proud, set in the North like a snow castle about to melt.
And within it, almost on the very edge once again to the north, rested the discreet City of Grey Sky.
In other words… the Zhuge clan didn't just live in the north.
We lived in the north, of the north, of the north.
If there were a line on the map called "The End of the World," our home would probably be one step beyond it.
"Excellent. Up to this point, the author has been coherent. What protagonist doesn't begin in a forgotten village at the farthest corner possible?"
I smiled faintly, with that dry humor that only serves to confirm ironies.
But, widening my view, I realized there were lands even farther north.
Not villages, not cities, not empires.
Only a dark green stain on the frozen horizon: the so-called Barbarian Lands.
The name was misleading. They weren't exactly lands, but an endless winter forest, stitched with mountains that rose like walls of stone and ice.
Its inhabitants? Few and stubborn hunters who lived at the edges, more out of lack of choice than bravery.
But not everything there was empty.
In the middle of that wild territory stood an exception glowing like embers in the snow:
The Third Greatest Sect of the White Flame Empire.
Unlike the others, this one wasn't just known for its battle strength.
It was also revered as the best place in the Empire to learn the auxiliary profession of Beast Tamer.
A detail that made it unique — after all, in a world where even Qi rebelled, who wouldn't want to subdue creatures to fight in their name?
And yet… this powerful sect limited itself to the edges of the forest.
There was no sign they planned to explore its deeper corners.
The reason was as simple as it was inevitable:
The forest was not human territory.
It belonged to spirit beasts.
Creatures whose very existence was enough to write legends.
And some of them, it was said, had reached even the Golden Core level.
They weren't mere monsters.
They were living disasters.
The northern forest seemed to breathe on its own.
Every dry branch cracked as if it were the bones of some ancient giant, and snow fell in silence — not as blessing, but as veil. The wind blew through the eternal pines, carrying with it a whisper that resembled human voices. It was the kind of place where even silence had teeth.
And yet, this was exactly where I was headed.
Not out of youthful enthusiasm. Not out of that blind hunger that drives so many to die as footnotes in the history of great clans.
I had no desire for "adventure."
The destiny that led me to this frozen wasteland was another.
I had four objectives in this journey.
Four, like pieces on a board that could not be moved by chance.
And the first of them, the most essential, could be summed up in one simple word:
Justification.
The system, in its ridiculous magnanimity, had rewarded me with ninety thousand points after the young martial tournament.
Ninety thousand.
For the special mission:
[Special Mission – Event Activated]
Martial Tournament of the Young Generation – 2 months remaining
"The Lonely Flame" – Help Zhuge Yu Jin win the tournament.
Description: He carries the fire of the Crimson Sun. His victory will consolidate his name and alter the course of the city's destiny. Reward: 15,000 System Points.
"The Rise of the Silent Embroidery" – Ensure the Zhuge Clan achieves the best overall placement in the tournament.
Description: Victory will not come from a single champion, but from an entire generation showing its strength. Reward: 25,000 System Points.
"The Voice that Silences the City" – Make the Zhuge Clan the strongest in Grey Sky City.
Description: Defeat, humiliate, and surpass all other families until no doubt remains as to who rules this land. Reward: 50,000 System Points.
[Note:] It is possible to complete more than one mission simultaneously.
Enough to take the breath away from any cultivator who believed heaven's fortunes required generations to accumulate.
And all why?
Because I had manipulated half a dozen pieces in an arena and let destiny believe it was writing on its own.
The author, if he even existed, was clearly drunk.
With such resources in hand, any other young patriarch would run to buy cultivation techniques, divine treasures, spiritual weapons with names intimidating enough to frighten librarians.
But I was not "any other."
My target was not personal brilliance.
It was to strengthen the Zhuge clan — not only with brute force, but with firm roots, auxiliary professionals, foundations that could not be torn up by occasional winds.
And in this, the system was… competent.
Its "delivery" mechanism was discreet enough not to turn me into a clown. No sacred mystical beast egg would simply appear under my pillow, accompanied by a banner: Congratulations, player!
Yet still… it lacked the subtlety required for real life.
Imagine: one day, a simple yard in the Zhuge clan wakes up with a thousand-year-old herb sprouted in the servants' garden.
Or worse, an ancient saber appears under an elder's bed, spotless, without history, shining as if just birthed by the universe.
Not even the most fervent faith in "luck" would justify miracles like that.
Even the most gullible would begin to suspect.
I needed something better.
Something plausible.
And so, the reasoning arose: if I disappeared for a few days, if I let the city believe the clan's patriarch had gone on a personal journey… then everything would be solved.
When I returned with one or two rare items, all it would take was a shrug:
The clan's luck, nothing more. Found in the northern wilds.
What better explanation?
Who would dare question the fortune of someone who had already defeated an elder of the Dark Sun Sect without even rising from his chair?
The clan would celebrate.
The city would whisper.
And I, discreetly, could continue bringing the bricks with which I would build the foundations of my true wall.
As I walked along the white trail leading to the Barbarian Lands, my steps did not echo only upon the snow.
They echoed inside me, repeating like a dry mantra:
"It is not about adventure.
It is about justification."
As for my other motives for this journey… they were more complex.
The first was simple in wording, but vast in implication:
I needed a new home.
Grey Sky had its charm.
A quiet city, with a slow rhythm, perfect for a cultivator who wanted to meditate on the sound of the wind and forget the world outside existed.
It would be perfect… if my siblings did not exist.
Because sooner or later, that small city would become a stage.
Not by its own merit, but by their mere presence.
Yu Jin, the fire dragon who ascended amidst flames and cut down the pride of the Han in the arena.
Yui Lan, the divine doctor reborn, whose name sooner or later would be sung as a walking miracle.
It was inevitable.
When you are born into a family of protagonists, even the most forgotten village becomes "the cradle of a legend."
And that… ruined my plans.
Of course, I would maintain the Zhuge clan in Grey Sky.
It was our ancestral root, our convenient façade, a perfect smoke curtain.
But I needed something more: a place that was truly mine, where no narrator would dare point the spotlight.
And what place could be more suitable than the absolute end of the world, where not even cartographers bothered to draw lines?
The Barbarian Lands.
Winter forest, icy mountains, beasts lurking in every shadow.
A setting that any hot-blooded youth would call a "disaster."
But I called it the "perfect plan."
The second objective arose from the first:
If I chose to live here, I would need to map the dangers of this land.
I had no interest in wandering like an amateur hunter, annihilating every creature that breathed.
That would only turn the refuge into a desert, without charm, without balance, and probably with new people. Which was undesirable.
What I sought was clarity: to discover which beasts were the true leaders, the dominant creatures that dictated the forest's rhythm.
Those I should eliminate… or tame.
Only then would my heart be at ease.
Not genocide, but surgical pruning — like cutting a tiger's claws without removing its spirit.
The fourth objective was even more refined.
Spirit beasts, especially the strongest, did not live in just any patch of snow and stone.
They needed special locations — areas dense in spiritual energy, shaped by geography like natural chalices filled with Qi.
Exactly the points I sought to set up matrices and formations around my future dwelling.
If my brother would attract enemies like a sun attracting moths…
I, on the contrary, would need dense shadows where I could remain unseen.
And for this I had already prepared the path.
Among the piles of jade and system records, I had already selected some suitable formations. Nothing exaggerated, nothing that would reveal greatness too soon.
Just enough to hide, to confuse, to repel.
My little formations specialist — Mei Xue — was already in intensive training.
Upon returning from this journey, I would hand her some matrices as if giving her toys found along the way.
"See, I found this during my travels. Study it in your time."
And then I would let her talent… and the narrative itself… do the work for me.
In the end, it was a perfect plan in my eyes.
A façade in Grey Sky to distract attention.
An invisible fortress at the end of the world to protect me.
A clan that would grow under plausible justifications.
And a stage where I would never be the main actor, only the spectator seated in the shadows.
If destiny insisted on writing heroes in my family, I would at least ensure there would always be a silent place to retreat to.