The news took three days to reach the Qingyun Sect.
Seven to trigger the first extraordinary meeting of the Council of Elders.
The main hall remained silent.
A single pill rested on the table.
It did not glow.
It did not radiate an extraordinary aura.
It was an ordinary Stability Pill.
The Alchemy Elder studied it for a long time.
"Confirmed?"
A disciple bowed his head.
"Yes. The Jade Flow Pavilion sells thousands of identical ones every week."
Silence.
"Thousands?"
"Yes."
The elder slowly closed the box.
"That's impossible."
The Resource Elder spoke next.
"It isn't impossible."
He placed several scrolls on the table.
"The price of basic pills has dropped by twelve percent throughout Tianxu."
Another scroll.
"Deliveries have become consistent."
Another.
"There hasn't been a shortage in two months."
He looked around the room.
"Someone reorganized the entire commercial supply chain."
The War Elder let out a laugh.
"So what?"
He crossed his arms.
"We're still a sect."
"Not a merchants' guild."
He looked around.
"Since when do we discuss markets?"
The Resource Elder answered without changing his expression.
"Since the market started financing sects."
Silence.
"With more income, we can buy more herbs."
"More weapons."
"More formations."
"More disciples."
He stared directly at the War Elder.
"Commerce wins wars too."
The Grand Elder tapped the table gently.
"Enough."
Everyone fell silent.
"Who's behind this?"
No one answered for several seconds.
Finally, a disciple spoke.
"The Pavilion has kept it secret."
Pause.
"But we found one name appearing repeatedly across several contracts."
He opened a scroll.
He read slowly.
"Adrian..."
Another pause.
"Valmont."
The room froze.
"Lin's grandson?"
"That Adrian."
"The same one who lost to Ye Chen?"
"The very same."
The Alchemy Elder broke the silence.
"I want to speak with him."
The Resource Elder answered immediately afterward.
"So do I."
The War Elder frowned.
"What for?"
The Alchemy Elder never took his eyes off the pill.
"Because if he truly found a way to multiply production..."
Pause.
"...then he has advanced alchemy more than we have in the past two hundred years."
The War Elder shook his head.
"While you're counting coins..."
He tapped the table with one finger.
"Ye Chen has already defeated three inner disciples."
"He possesses monstrous talent."
"He is the future of this sect."
"And who will pay for that future?"
The question came from the Resource Elder.
No one answered.
The atmosphere shifted.
They were no longer debating people.
They were debating priorities.
The Grand Elder took a deep breath.
"Ye Chen will remain our foremost disciple."
He looked at everyone.
"That is not up for discussion."
Pause.
"But neither can we ignore a young man capable of reshaping the economy of an entire city."
At that very moment...
Far away from the council hall...
Adrian was arguing with a carpenter.
"No."
He pointed at a shelf.
"If the worker has to walk three extra steps for every batch..."
"We lose almost an hour every day."
The carpenter looked at him in confusion.
"An hour?"
"Exactly."
Adrian moved the shelf a few inches.
"Now try again."
A disciple came running.
"Young Master Adrian!"
"Yes?"
"The Council of Elders requests your presence."
Adrian looked up.
"Now?"
"It's urgent."
Adrian looked at the warehouse.
He looked at the wooden boards.
He looked at the blueprints.
He sighed.
"What terrible timing..."
The carpenter frowned.
"What's wrong?"
Adrian rolled up the scroll.
"We were just about to solve the warehouse problem."
Then he left.
As he walked toward the main hall, the system appeared.
[Narrative Correction Initiated.]
Priority Objective Updated.
Restore the Son of Heaven's prominence.
...
Analyzing...
...
Error.
Narrative interest divided between two objectives.
...
Rewriting influence relationships...
...
Error.
Too many characters have altered their priorities independently.
The Commerce Chamber's Training Grounds buzzed with activity.
Dozens of disciples moved across stone platforms, exchanging blows, incomplete techniques, and eager glances.
Everyone wanted to stand out.
Everyone wanted to be noticed.
Adrian didn't.
He moved carefully, measuring every step, every breath.
His strikes were clumsy...
and far from devastating.
His dodges were clean...
but always just a little too late.
He sweated.
He panted.
Some attacks grazed him.
Just enough to avoid them.
Not enough to look dangerous.
"Good..." he thought as he blocked a punch and stepped back twice.
"Average rhythm. One mistake every six moves. Irregular breathing."
The disciple facing him smiled, believing he had gained the upper hand.
Adrian smiled back.
Exactly as it should be.
Then the air changed.
It wasn't spiritual pressure.
It wasn't killing intent.
It was...
presence.
"Your guard is too honest."
The voice came from behind him.
Adrian turned instinctively—
too late.
BAM!
A solid blow struck his ribs, precise as a perfectly placed hammer.
The air burst from his lungs in a violent gasp.
"Wha...?" he managed to say before—
BAM!
A knee slammed into his abdomen.
He dropped to one knee.
"Your stance isn't stable," the voice continued calmly.
"Your movements are slow."
Adrian barely had time to look up.
An old man stood before him, dressed in plain robes, back perfectly straight, hands clasped behind him.
Not a trace of detectable qi escaped from him.
That's what's terrifying, Adrian thought.
"Your cultivation can improve," the old man said.
"Your stance can improve."
BAM!
A strike to the shoulder.
Clean.
Educational.
Painful.
Adrian rolled across the ground, breathing heavily.
"Who... the hell are you?" he growled, genuinely confused.
"Someone who's bored," the old man replied.
"And you're interesting."
BAM!
This time, a strike to the leg.
"You crazy old man!" Adrian thought as he staggered to his feet.
"You didn't even ask for my consent before starting this tutoring session!"
From the outside, it looked like brutal training.
From the inside...
Adrian realized something even worse.
Every blow corrected a flaw he hadn't even realized he was making.
"If you keep fighting like this," the old man said,
"you won't reach the finals."
"And if you don't..."
Another strike knocked him flat.
"...you'll lose before then."
Adrian lay on his back, breathing as though he'd just climbed a mountain.
Then—
"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!?"
The voice crashed down like thunder.
The old man blinked.
So did Adrian.
Su Meilan strode across the training grounds, her brows tightly knit, barely restraining her anger.
She saw Adrian lying on the ground, drenched in sweat, struggling to breathe...
then looked at the old man.
"Father!" she exclaimed.
"Why are you beating up the younger generation like this!?"
"Your job is to supervise the Commerce Chamber's finances, not abuse trainees!"
Absolute silence.
The nearby disciples suddenly found their own training incredibly fascinating...
while secretly watching from the corners of their eyes.
Adrian slowly opened his eyes.
Father.
He looked at the old man.
The old man looked back at him.
Then smiled.
"Abuse?" he asked with complete innocence.
"I was only giving him a little training."
Su Meilan planted herself in front of him, furious.
"He's on the ground! He can't even stand up!"
"That means he learned something," the old man replied with a shrug.
"Besides..."
He leaned down and looked shamelessly at Adrian.
"I wanted to meet the young man my daughter won't stop talking about."
WON'T STOP TALKING ABOUT ME!?
Adrian burst into a coughing fit.
"And," the old man added with a dangerous smile,
"I wanted to confirm whether he's worth it..."
"...or not."
Su Meilan turned bright red.
"That's not true!"
"Of course not," he said playfully.
"I exaggerate."
He turned and walked away as though nothing had happened.
"Same time tomorrow," he called over his shoulder.
"Get some rest, kid...
you're going to need it."
The old man walked off.
Su Meilan immediately turned back to Adrian and knelt beside him.
"Are you alright?" she asked, genuinely worried.
Adrian took a deep breath...
and smiled with effort.
"I think..."
"I've just discovered I'm terrible at this..."
"I'd better stick to being a businessman."
She looked at him for several seconds.
Then sighed.
"My father is impossible."
"He is..."
"And dangerous," Adrian replied.
They looked at each other.
And for the first time since the tournament had begun, Adrian realized something with absolute clarity:
Reaching the finals was going to be painfully difficult.
The Celestial Coliseum was filled to the last seat.
The banners of every sect fluttered solemnly, while defensive formations hummed beneath the weight of thousands of watching eyes.
This was the day Heaven "made its choice," and everyone wanted to witness it.
In the central grandstand, elevated above all the others, sat Lin Yue.
The Saint.
She wore immaculate white robes, free of unnecessary ornaments.
Her presence was serene, almost distant, yet those who knew her understood that nothing escaped her perception.
Her hands rested together upon her lap...
though every so often, her fingers tightened ever so slightly, as though remembering the weight of something small and seemingly insignificant.
A pill.
"The Saint is watching," someone whispered among the crowd.
"This tournament will be remembered."
A few seats away, Su Meilan and her father silently observed.
"Watch him carefully," the old man said.
"Thanks to me, your boyfriend improved."
Ye Chen entered the arena first.
The crowd erupted.
He wore white robes embroidered with gold, and his qi flowed with almost offensive purity.
Every step seemed aligned with Heaven's will.
The elders nodded in approval.
Lin Yue looked at him.
Her expression did not change.
But she did not stand.
She did not smile.
Ye Chen noticed.
The slightest furrow of his brow.
A tiny imperfection in his breathing.
Then Adrian entered.
No music.
No overwhelming aura.
No heroic presence.
He was dressed simply—
almost too simply.
He walked like someone arriving late to a meeting, not stepping onto the stage where a sect's future would be decided.
The murmurs spread immediately.
"Isn't that...?"
"The one who gave the gift..."
"That arrogant merchant."
Lin Yue raised her eyes.
They settled upon Adrian with a quiet, dangerous attention.
It wasn't reproach.
Nor admiration.
It was...
evaluation.
"He's changed," Su Meilan murmured.
"No," an elderly woman beside her replied.
"That boy will never change."
Adrian's first match was simple.
Too simple.
His opponent unleashed a flashy technique overflowing with qi.
The audience applauded.
Adrian took one step to the side.
Nothing more.
The attack missed.
A short shove to the elbow.
His opponent misjudged his footing.
The disciple stumbled out of bounds, utterly confused, unable to understand what had happened.
"Was that luck?" someone whispered.
Lin Yue narrowed her eyes.
It hadn't been luck.
The same thing happened in every match that followed.
Adrian sweated.
He panted.
He made just enough mistakes.
He always looked one second too slow...
yet he was never where the blow landed.
"He's acting," Su Meilan said.
"He couldn't do this so well before."
"One week," her father replied.
"And he understood something crucial:
looking weak is harder than actually being strong."
Ye Chen watched from his platform.
Every one of Adrian's victories was another thorn in his side.
Not because of the outcome.
Because of the way he won.
There was no direct challenge.
No public humiliation.
Only a constant, irritating presence...
like a reminder.
Lin Yue lowered her gaze for a moment.
She remembered the cardboard box.
The plain-looking pill that had allowed her to advance another level.
The way Adrian hadn't waited for applause.
At the end of the day, Adrian left the arena, visibly exhausted.
The crowd quickly lost interest.
He wasn't a hero.
But Lin Yue kept watching him until he disappeared from the field.
"He'll reach the finals," she said quietly.
Su Meilan turned in surprise.
"You really think so?"
The Saint gave a slight nod.
"I'm certain."
Su Meilan's father smiled.
In the distance, Ye Chen clenched his fists.
The hero was advancing toward his destiny.
And the villain...
was destined to lose.