From the perspective of Zhuge Su Yeon
The reserved room was small, discreet, and yet offered a privileged view of the arena.
There were no luxurious curtains, no incense burning in bronze vases, only a low table, two chairs, and a jug of already cold tea. The place was almost a reflection of his own philosophy: nothing flashy, nothing that needed to be explained.
Zhuge Su Yeon sat there, hands resting on his knees, his expression serene. No disguise covered his face, no illusion hid his presence. There was no need. He had not announced himself as Patriarch of the Zhuge Clan, nor as someone of distinguished lineage. He was just another man sitting in silence—and, at this point, that was enough.
Outside, the roar of the crowd grew in waves. Each collective breath of the thousands gathered in the arena seemed to vibrate against the walls, as if the heart of the capital had been ripped from its chest and placed there to beat before everyone.
Su Yeon slightly raised his chin, his eyes sliding toward the purple brilliance exploding at the center of the arena.
Purple.
The cursed purple.
He sighed, and the sound was almost a hidden smile.
— Hmph… so you're not the type who prefers to hide until the very last moment.
The purple halo rose like the flames of a newly awakened dragon, dyeing the skies of the capital. The reaction was immediate: the entire Empire seemed to hold its breath. Nobles, patriarchs, elders, even beggars in the stands—all looked the same way, as if witnessing a sign from the heavens.
For Su Yeon, however, it was nothing more than that: a show.
And what a fine show.
He leaned back slightly in the chair, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the worn wood.
In his previous life—the one that no longer belonged to him—the "protagonist" always appeared wrapped in predictable clichés: humiliated in silence, trampled to the limit, only to, at the decisive moment, rise as a hidden dragon and set the world ablaze in a burst of glory. It was fate's favorite theater.
But his brother…
His brother didn't seem to like that script.
Yu Jin was not a hidden dragon.
He was a proud dragon.
And he had no interest in waiting for the final act to subdue the world.
Su Yeon tilted his head to the side, eyes half-closed.
— Subjugating with mere presence, huh? … Truly exhausting. — he muttered, his voice laced with that dry irony only he seemed to find amusing.
He was not there to intervene, nor to protect, much less to pull the strings of the narrative.
Not this time.
This time, he was there only for one of his favorite activities.
To sit in silence.
And watch the spectacle.
The purple light continued to set the Empire ablaze, and, for the first time, Zhuge Su Yeon had to admit to himself:
Yes, it was indeed a beautiful show.
Zhuge Su Yeon remained motionless in his chair, eyes half-closed, as the purple glow slowly dissipated from the ancestral platform. The murmur of the crowd continued to vibrate like distant thunder, but what mattered was not the noise—but what would come after.
And it came.
As soon as Yu Jin descended from the platform, six of the Seven Great Sects rose in unison. The movement was calculated, flawless, like waves responding to the same tide. Each of them rushed to offer what everyone wanted to hear: promises of protection, unmatched resources, ancestral techniques, status that would make even emperors tremble.
Yu Jin remained still. His gaze firm, his body upright, as if each word were nothing more than wind against rock.
He listened to everything.
Every promise, every flattery.
Silence returned only when the last elder finished his offer.
Then, and only then, he deigned to speak.
He turned toward the Sect of Infinite Flames. The obvious choice, the most powerful of all, sustained by the very lineage of the empress. The air filled with expectations, and in the eyes of the other sects grew the shadow of dismay. It was inevitable, wasn't it? After all, who would refuse the burning throne of the empire?
But Yu Jin opened his mouth… and the words were different.
— I fear that trash like me has no fate with your sect.
The sound spread like a sharp blade.
Simple, direct, and yet… destructive.
"Even Zhuge Su Yeon raised an eyebrow.
'A challenge so elegant, how rare coming from Yu Jin.'"
In the arena, confusion spread. The main elder sent by the Sect of Infinite Flames froze, unable to respond immediately. It was as if Yu Jin's words had shattered protocol, spat on the political logic of the Empire.
And, for a moment, no one understood anything.
Only when an attendant leaned in, whispering something in his ear, did the old man sigh.
He nodded, resigned, allowing Yu Jin to walk away without protest.
He had understood.
It wasn't a blind refusal. It was karma. Past actions now demanding their price.
Su Yeon breathed deeply, watching in silence.
"The past always returns. Even when buried. Even in the form of irony."
The other five sects did not withdraw their offers. But they hesitated.
And Su Yeon saw this with cruel clarity.
Eyes once full of greed now shimmered with calculation.
Yu Jin had not only refused the most powerful sect—he had, in a way, affronted even the Empress Feng Yue herself. Would they be foolish enough to accept a disciple who, no matter how much of a genius, already carried such a strong enemy lurking behind him?
In the end, the offers remained on the table.
But the hearts… were no longer the same.
And Yu Jin, accepting none of them, walked in another direction.
His steps echoed toward the only sect that had not risen in unison, the only one that had remained quiet before the purple glow:
The Sect of the Burning Moonlight.
Zhuge Su Yeon lightly tightened his fingers against the chair's armrest. His mind, as always, had already done its homework. He had researched each of the Seven Great Sects, not out of immediate need, but because knowing a potential enemy was an absolute rule.
The Sect of the Burning Moonlight was different.
The newest.
The quietest.
The most mysterious.
In the eyes of the Empire, it was nothing more than a handful of stars that appeared late in a sky already crowded with legends. But to Su Yeon, it meant something else. It meant that this sect was not truly of the White Flame Empire. It was a force placed there—seeds of something greater, perhaps from a world beyond.
And when he saw his brother walking in that direction, he couldn't hold back a faint smile.
— Not the perfect path for a protagonist… but still, a beautiful detour from the script. — he murmured to himself.
The show continued.
And he, as always, watched.
The reserved hall remained silent, except for the distant sound of the stands. Thousands shouted his brother's name, but within that simple space, only the tinkling of the wind against the wooden beams seemed to exist.
Zhuge Su Yeon did not rise, nor did he lean forward. It was enough for him to watch.
Yu Jin's choice was already made.
And since the Sect of the Burning Moonlight had not brought an invitation to him, the consequence was inevitable: he had to earn his place by force.
In the arena, formations lit up like fragmented moons, and before the young man rose his opponent—not a veteran, not a spiritual beast, but a shadow. A replica of himself, shaped by moonlight into ethereal flesh.
Su Yeon raised an eyebrow.
— An inner reflection test… hm. Refined. More than the one I found in the Black Castle. — he murmured, recalling his own past, when he had faced something similar. But this one… this one was even more elaborate.
The shadow moved first.
Its movements were fluid, as if sculpted from Yu Jin's most intimate memories. The duplicate's saber cut the air with flawless precision, imitating every habit, every detail learned through years of practice.
Yu Jin blocked the first strike with firmness. The clash resounded through the arena like restrained thunder, the metallic echo vibrating against the walls.
Another slash.
Another defense.
The fight seemed symmetrical, like two rivers running side by side.
But it didn't last.
Yu Jin broke the rhythm, and in the glow of his eyes burned the flame that set him apart. His blade spun in a wide arc, shattering the predictability of the reflection. The shadow stepped back half a pace, just enough for everyone to realize: it wasn't him.
— Yes. — murmured Su Yeon, tapping his fingers against the wood of the chair. — The reflection brings the strength… but not the essence.
Strikes followed one after another like flames spreading across dry fields.
Yu Jin was not merely reacting—he was pressing, attacking, bending the reflection against itself. Sweat trickled down his forehead, muscles taut, the saber cutting through the air in paths that resembled broken lightning.
The shadow replicated every technique, but lacked something.
Will.
The weight of a heart unafraid of being stained with blood.
It was then that the unexpected happened.
Behind Yu Jin, a form took shape. A Martial Soul.
The white field opened like a night veil, and at its center a single purple flame burned, solitary and absolute, illuminating the emptiness around it. The contrast was so strong that even ordinary spectators fell silent.
Yeon paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing at the presence.
It was the first time he saw this martial soul of his brother.
And, comparing it in thought to the one he had shown in the arena of Grey Sky—the three-headed dragon roaring in fury—he could not help but notice the difference.
This one was not as imposing, not as immediate.
It seemed… smaller.
Contained.
But within that simplicity was something that common eyes could never notice.
Not a visible power, but a hidden destiny. A silent promise, like a seed buried, waiting for spring.
From the hall, Su Yeon narrowed his gaze.
He wanted to study it, to understand it. But there was no time.
For before the appearance of the true Martial Soul, the shadow also revealed its own.
And Yu Jin's reflection summoned an identical purple flame, rising as if it were his perfect mirror.
But there… something was missing.
The power was there, yes.
But the essence… was not.
It was like looking at a blade forged without fire, a painting made without soul. Beautiful, perhaps even faithful… but empty.
The outcome did not delay.
Yu Jin advanced like a raging tide.
His strikes were not only strength—they were decision, a will that could not be copied. Each slash carried the weight of a life already chosen, of battles already fought. The shadow retreated, defending itself with perfection, yet still retreating.
Until Yu Jin's saber broke through the guard, shattering the false echo of his own image.
The reflected Martial Soul wavered, and in the next instant, dissolved into fragments of moonlight.
The shadow fell.
And the arena vibrated in absolute silence.
Su Yeon closed his eyes for a moment, absorbing not the roar of the crowd, but the detail few noticed.
— A false power could never stop a protagonist. — he said quietly, like someone who already knew the script, but still never tired of watching the repetitions.