From the perspective of Zhuge Yui Lan
The roar of the crowd dissolved into restrained murmurs as the gates of the arena opened.
A wave of young cultivators advanced toward the central stage, each step resounding as if the very ground measured the ambition of ten thousand hearts. Their garments ranged from the simple linen of forgotten villages to robes embroidered in gold and jade from ancient clans; some marched with the discipline of armies, others with the restlessness of wolves newly released.
Ten thousand.
An ocean of talents, hopes, and illusions.
For most spectators, distinguishing faces was a futile task. The ranks spread out in compact waves, each cultivator swallowed by a sea of shoulders, banners, and nervous breaths. Even seasoned elders hesitated to find a single name amidst such a tide.
But not Yui Lan.
Her eyes swept the stage only out of courtesy; her heart already knew where to rest.
Perhaps it was the bond of blood, perhaps the echo of a destiny shared in the womb. But among thousands, she had no doubt.
There he was.
Zhuge Yu Jin.
Standing as if the vastness of the capital did not weigh a single grain upon his shoulders. His expression unchanged, eyes steady, chin lifted in silent defiance against the very heavens. Not even his breathing betrayed anxiety; within him was the calm of one who carried a flame that asked no permission to exist.
For a moment, Yui Lan sighed.
Not in dismay — but in recognition.
Her brother was still confident.
As confident as the day he defied a destiny of being a "sealed useless one."
But she knew.
She knew better than anyone.
From now on, there would be no more dark forests or arrogant youths with blades too sharp for their own hands. The enemies that rose before him would be different. Stronger. More dangerous. Albivion's stage spared no illusions — each step here would be contested against prodigies shaped by the gaze of ancestral sects.
And even so… Yu Jin seemed untouched.
As if the capital were nothing more than another road.
Yui Lan turned her gaze from him, not out of indifference, but necessity. Her attention traced the sea of competitors like one reading hidden lines in an ancient scroll.
And soon, she recognized them.
Among the ten thousand, a few stood out, unable to hide their own light — or their own shadow. Youths of powerful clans, descendants of hidden sects, figures who carried with them more than simple hope: they carried entire legacies.
She found them one by one.
And in silence, she mapped her brother's future opponents.
The tide of competitors advanced in unison, but for Yui Lan, the faces did not blend together. Among thousands of youths, ten of them blazed like torches lit in the middle of a storm.
She recognized them. Not as mere candidates — but as seeds of future legends.
One by one, her eyes rested upon them.
Dugu Liao Liao
A flame among the sea.
Her light-red hair fell like strands of flaming copper, shining under the arena's glow. Her face was delicate, almost innocent, but her eyes… her eyes were blades sharpened by war.
Daughter of the Great General Dugu, right hand of Empress Feng Yue.
In her past life, Liao Liao would become the youngest recorded legion commander, her saber raised on the frontlines against rebellious sects. Many would call her the "Scarlet Rose of the Battlefield."
Yui Lan sighed.
So young… and already marked by blood.
Imperial Prince Feng Yu Han
His clothes needed no crest to reveal his origin. His bearing, his lifted chin, the calm of one who knew the sun flowed through his veins.
Feng Yu Han, the seventh prince, the youngest among seven brothers — and thus, the youngest brother of the current empress.
In the history Yui Lan remembered, he would be hailed as a prodigy both in politics and in the sword, uniting clans under his influence. Many would say he was born to be emperor, though the heavens were never so generous to any one man.
"Even the most perfect radiance can be consumed by envy," she thought, remembering how the ambition of his brothers would undo his path.
Han Li Jun
Amidst the sea of competitors, there was a youth with a calm, almost unassuming expression. His face was ordinary, lacking beauty that drew stares, and his clothes were simple, gray cotton. Nothing in him, at first glance, should have drawn attention.
But his eyes…
Ah, his eyes.
Black as bottomless wells, they carried a disturbing stillness, as if everything around him were merely a rehearsed play.
Han Li Jun, bastard son of a forgotten branch of the Han Clan — not the Han Clan of Gray Sky, long faded, but the Han Clan that ruled the east of the White Flame Empire. Han Li Jun had neither titles nor privileges.
And yet, Yui Lan knew.
He would be remembered centuries later as the "Silent Oracle" — not for predicting the future with words, but for always walking as if he had already seen everything before. His sword was never the fastest, his techniques never the brightest, yet his enemies… invariably died in silence, as if each step toward defeat were inevitable.
Yui Lan lowered her eyes briefly.
Unlike so many geniuses who would burn like torches, Li Jun was a hidden flame.
And for that… all the more dangerous.
Long Tian Mu
Tall, broad-shouldered, wearing light armor even in the arena, as if always ready for war. His golden eyes reflected the glow of a distant sun.
Descendant of the banished lineage of beast tamers from the Sect of a Hundred Beasts.
In the future, he would be remembered as the "Lord of a Hundred Roars", uniting bestial armies under his banner, becoming a living legend at the Empire's borders.
Yui Lan arched her brows.
"A loyal heart… but too naïve for the games of Albivion."
Bai Hu Yan
Black robes embroidered in silver, a closed fan hanging at his belt. His face calm, almost lazy, but his eyes revealed cold flames.
Bai Hu Yan, of the Bai Clan, ruling clan of the southern White Flame Empire.
A youth who would later be known as the "General of Shadows," master of strategies and formations. A cultivator who preferred to win before the sword was even drawn.
"Among them all… perhaps the most dangerous," Yui Lan thought. "Not for strength… but for silence."
Mei Qian Shui
A young woman with fair skin, jade-colored eyes, and a gentle, almost ethereal expression. She carried a spiritual brush in her hands, as if it were an extension of her soul.
Daughter of the Mei Clan, of direct lineage.
In her other life, Mei Qian Shui would become one of the greatest spiritual artists of the Empire, capable of crafting seals and talismans that still endure in ancient ruins.
Yui Lan admired her in silence.
"Her strength comes not from the sword, but from calm."
Zhao Feng Lei
Thunder incarnate.
A youth with disheveled hair, eyes sparking blue, his posture restless as if his body could not contain the Qi erupting within.
In the future, his name would resound on battlefields as the "Immortal Lightning," a cultivator who destroyed armies alone. But he would die young, consumed by his own power.
"A lightning bolt does not know how to wait for the rain," Yui Lan murmured.
Yue Chan Ling
A white veil covered half her face, yet even so, the beauty that remained was enough to shatter hearts. Her movements were light, like petals dancing in the wind.
In her past life, Yue Chan Ling would be remembered as the "Shadow of the True Flower," a mistress of illusions so perfect that cultivators died smiling within them.
Yui Lan gazed at her for a long time.
"Between beauty and illusions, there is no difference when the heart is fragile."
Mo Jian Hei
Clad in black from head to toe, his sword on his back so plain it looked like a piece of iron. His face expressionless, as if not even the arena could draw emotion from him.
From the obscure Mo Clan, always linked to the Sect of the Obscured Sun.
In the future, he would be known as the "Sword of the Eclipse." A cultivator who emerged from shadows to cut down his enemy, then vanished as if he had never existed.
"Too cold to be human… but too perfect to be forgotten."
Lin Xue
Yui Lan smiled faintly as she recognized her.
The young girl with twin braids, firm brown eyes, and a resilient heart.
She was not yet a legend. Not yet a name that echoed into the future.
A girl who seemed more like a common villager than a cultivator.
But Yui Lan knew.
Among them all, Lin Xue was not the most talented… but perhaps the most obstinate. And obstinacy, at times, bent even destiny itself.
Thus, the ten stood out.
Some children of emperors, others descendants of shadows. Some destined for glory, others for ruin.
But all — absolutely all — had been obstacles on the path of Zhuge Yu Jin.
And Yui Lan, with the weight of four thousand years in her eyes, knew that the arena opening before them was not merely the stage of a tournament.
It was the first piece of a board where every move would echo for generations.