The Jin Clan's Grand Arena stood imposing in the morning light, its stone walls bearing the weight of countless historic duels. Today, the stands overflowed with spectators—disciples from all ranks, elders representing various factions, and representatives from allied clans. Tae-Won stood at the eastern entrance, Liu Feng beside him making final adjustments to his disciple robes.
"The audience is larger than expected," Liu Feng noted, his voice betraying concern. "Representatives from three of the Twelve Noble Families are present, including the Zhao Clan's Second Elder."
Tae-Won nodded, absorbing this information while scanning the crowd. Political implications expanded with each prominent observer. This was no longer merely a test between disciples—it had become a statement about Elder Jin's standing and the future leadership of the Jin Clan.
"Young Master Jin Taekyung has arrived with his entourage," Liu Feng continued, gesturing discreetly toward the western entrance. "Seven disciples from his father's faction accompany him—all Core Formation."
Across the arena, Jin Taekyung made his entrance with calculated showmanship. Tall and broad-shouldered, he moved with the easy confidence of someone who had never known defeat. His dark blue robes, emblazoned with the Jin Clan's silver phoenix, rippled around him as he acknowledged the crowd with a dismissive wave. The Core Formation disciples flanking him maintained formation with military precision, their synchronized movements emphasizing the disparity between their disciplined power and Tae-Won's solitary stance.
Tae-Won's eyes narrowed as he got his first good look at his opponent. His jaw clenched involuntarily.
"God damn it," he muttered under his breath. "That fucker Liu Feng was right. This bastard is pretty fucking handsome."
The chiseled features, the confident bearing, the way even the light seemed to favor Jin Taekyung's angles—it was as if some cosmic sculptor had decided to make a perfect specimen just to irritate Tae-Won personally. Even the way Taekyung's hair caught the breeze looked rehearsed.
"I believe I described him as 'jade carved by the heavens themselves,'" Liu Feng whispered, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"Yeah, well, he looks like he practices smiling in a mirror," Tae-Won grumbled, his annoyance only deepening when a group of female disciples near the stands visibly swooned as Taekyung passed. "Is he wearing scent? Who wears scent to a duel?"
Liu Feng's lips twitched slightly. "Shall I include 'excessive handsomeness' in our intelligence report as a tactical disadvantage?"
"Just make sure Min-Ji's contacts are positioned as we discussed," Tae-Won replied, pushing aside his irritation. "Whatever happens today, our network will capture the political fallout. Are they in place?"
Liu Feng bowed slightly. "I have positioned Ho-Jin and three others at strategic observation points around the arena. Min-Ji's contacts are monitoring reactions from the servant quarters. Every significant reaction will be documented."
Elder Jin waited at the center of the arena, his ancient figure somehow appearing taller than his actual height, power radiating from him in subtle waves that even non-cultivators could sense. Beside him stood Madam Liu and two elders Tae-Won hadn't previously met—likely neutral arbiters for the match.
[Current Realm: Body Refinement Stage 3]
[Cultivation Progress: 38.1% toward Body Refinement Stage 4]
[Qi reserves: 100% of maximum capacity]
[Meridian expansion: 183% of baseline]
[System Notice: Path to Core Formation I unlocking - 17% complete]
"It is time," Liu Feng said, stepping back as Elder Jin raised his hand in summons.
Tae-Won walked forward, conscious of the hundreds of eyes tracking his movement. He maintained the precise gait Elder Jin had taught him—neither too fast nor too slow, projecting confidence without arrogance. The weight of Elder Jin's jade token hung against his chest, a physical reminder of his responsibility to represent his master honorably.
As he approached the center, Tae-Won caught his first close look at Jin Taekyung. Handsome features arranged in an expression of amused contempt, eyes sharp with intelligence but clouded by entitlement. This was a young man who had never faced true hardship, whose talent had always been nurtured rather than tested.
"Disciples, approach," Elder Jin commanded, his voice carrying effortlessly throughout the arena.
Tae-Won and Jin Taekyung moved forward simultaneously, stopping three paces apart. The difference in their cultivation was immediately apparent—Taekyung's aura pulsed with the concentrated power of Core Formation, while Tae-Won's, though unusually dense for Body Refinement, remained fundamentally different in quality.
"Jin Taekyung, Core Formation Stage I, greets Grandfather," Taekyung announced, bowing respectfully to Elder Jin before turning dismissive eyes toward Tae-Won. "I have come as requested to evaluate your... disciple."
Elder Jin's expression remained neutral. "Tae-Won, personal disciple of Elder Jin, will participate in this traditional assessment match." He gestured to the elders beside him. "Elder Zhao of the Zhao Clan and Elder Song of the Jin Clan will serve as impartial witnesses. This match will follow standard assessment protocols—no lethal techniques, no permanent injuries, victory by submission or incapacitation."
Taekyung's mouth curved in a slight smile. "Of course, Grandfather. I would never dream of causing permanent harm to your... interesting choice of disciple."
The emphasis on "interesting" carried unmistakable disdain, though his formal language maintained a veneer of respect. Elder Jin appeared to ignore the implied insult, turning instead to address both combatants.
"Take your positions. Begin when the gong sounds."
As Tae-Won and Taekyung moved to their respective starting positions, Elder Jin and the witness elders withdrew to an elevated platform at the northern edge of the arena. A heavy silence fell over the crowd, broken only by the occasional whisper quickly hushed by neighbors.
Tae-Won settled into the Azure Dragon stance, channeling Qi through the meridian pathways he had been cultivating intensively. Across the field, Taekyung adopted a more aggressive position, flames already dancing subtly around his fingertips—a casual display of his fire affinity.
The gong's deep resonance filled the arena.
But instead of immediately attacking, Taekyung stood his ground, an arrogant smile playing across his lips. "Come," he called, gesturing lazily with one hand. "I'll allow you the first strike. It's only fair to give you some small advantage."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd at this display of contempt. Taekyung was not merely confident—he was publicly humiliating Elder Jin's disciple before the match had properly begun.
Tae-Won hesitated, recognizing the trap. Attacking first would force him to cross the open ground between them, exposing himself to whatever counter Taekyung had prepared. Yet refusing the "generous offer" would appear weak before the assembled witnesses.
"What's wrong, slum rat?" Taekyung taunted, his voice pitched to carry. "Too afraid to seize an opportunity when offered? Perhaps my grandfather overestimated your courage."
Decision made, Tae-Won launched forward, Qi flowing through his meridians as he executed Azure Dragon's Advance. The technique emphasized unpredictable movement patterns, making it difficult for opponents to anticipate the direction of the final strike.
Taekyung observed the approach with detached amusement, making no move to defend until the last possible moment. When Tae-Won committed to his strike—an Azure Dragon Fang aimed at Taekyung's right shoulder—the Core Formation disciple simply shifted slightly, allowing the attack to pass harmlessly beside him.
"Predictable," Taekyung commented, countering with a casual palm strike that caught Tae-Won squarely in the chest.
The impact sent Tae-Won skidding backward, his defensive Qi layer barely absorbing the force. A basic attack, deliberately restrained—another insult wrapped in the guise of mercy.
[Impact assessment: 38% force absorbed]
[Chest meridian integrity: 92%]
[Recommendation: Maintain defensive posture]
"Is this truly the best my grandfather could find?" Taekyung asked, advancing with unhurried confidence. "A slum rat with a few memorized forms?"
Tae-Won remained silent, recovering his stance and recalibrating his approach. The gap in cultivation was even more pronounced in direct exchange than he had anticipated. Victory through direct confrontation was impossible; his only hope lay in strategic endurance and calculated counter-strikes.
Taekyung launched a more complex sequence—three consecutive strikes targeting different vital points, each palm wreathed in strengthening flame. Tae-Won evaded the first, deflected the second with Azure Dragon Scales, but the third caught him on the shoulder, sending him sliding backward several feet.
For the next several minutes, Taekyung methodically increased the pressure, each attack slightly more powerful than the last. He was toying with his opponent, demonstrating his superiority for the audience's benefit rather than seeking a quick victory.
"I expected more," Taekyung called between attacks, his voice carrying to the spectators. "The way my grandfather has been behaving, I thought he'd discovered some hidden prodigy. But this? This is disappointing."
Tae-Won focused on survival, implementing the defensive strategies Elder Jin had drilled into him. Azure Dragon Scales, Azure Dragon Coils, Azure Dragon Retreat—techniques designed to absorb, redirect, and evade superior force. Each successful defense slightly surprised Taekyung, though not enough to shake his confidence.
[Qi reserves: 64% and declining]
[Meridian stress: Moderate in four pathways]
[Warning: Current exchange pattern unsustainable]
That moment came when Taekyung, growing impatient with Tae-Won's resilience, committed to a more powerful attack—a sweeping fire-enhanced kick that momentarily exposed his balance point. Tae-Won ducked under the strike and executed Azure Dragon Fang, directing a concentrated burst of Qi through his palm directly into one of Taekyung's lower meridian points.
The impact was modest by Core Formation standards, but the precision of the strike disrupted Taekyung's Qi flow momentarily. He stumbled back, genuine surprise replacing his contemptuous expression.
A ripple of astonishment passed through the crowd. Elder Jin's face remained impassive, though something like satisfaction flickered in his ancient eyes.
"So the rat has claws," Taekyung said, his voice hardening. "Let's see how they fare against real fire."
The air around him shimmered as he gathered power, his cultivation fully engaged now. The temperature in the arena rose noticeably as flames coalesced around his arms, forming intricate patterns that spoke of advanced technique and exceptional control.
"Phoenix Wing Strike," he announced, launching forward with dramatically increased speed.
Tae-Won recognized the technique from the jade slip records—a mid-tier Core Formation attack that combined physical impact with controlled flame projection. He shifted into Azure Dragon Coils, gathering his Qi for the defensive counter Elder Jin had specifically taught him for fire-attribute techniques.
The collision of energies created a visible shockwave, rippling outward from the point of impact. Tae-Won successfully redirected the main force of the attack, though secondary flames scorched his sleeve and left his left arm tingling from the heat.
Taekyung looked genuinely startled now, his eyes narrowing in calculation. "Impossible," he muttered. "Body Refinement shouldn't be able to withstand that technique."
Taking advantage of Taekyung's momentary distraction, Tae-Won executed a quick sequence of strikes targeting key meridian points. None landed with full effectiveness, but the unexpected aggression forced Taekyung to adjust his stance.
For the next several exchanges, Taekyung abandoned his showy techniques in favor of direct, powerful attacks. Each impact drove Tae-Won further into defensive positioning, the gap in raw power becoming increasingly apparent. Tae-Won's meridians strained under the continuous pressure, his Qi reserves depleting at an alarming rate.
[Qi reserves: 51% and declining rapidly]
[Meridian stress: Critical in three pathways]
[Warning: Continued defensive pattern unsustainable]
Tae-Won knew he needed to change approach. Continuing this exchange pattern would lead to inevitable defeat through attrition. As Taekyung prepared another powerful attack, Tae-Won deliberately left an opening in his guard—a calculated risk that invited a specific strike angle.
Taekyung took the bait, committing fully to an overhead strike aimed at Tae-Won's exposed shoulder. At the last possible moment, Tae-Won executed a modified Azure Dragon Fang, channeling Qi through a secondary meridian pathway Elder Jin had helped him develop. The unusual energy flow pattern created a momentary blind spot in Taekyung's perception, allowing Tae-Won's counter to slip past his defenses.
The strike landed solidly on Taekyung's chest, disrupting his Qi circulation and forcing him back several steps. For the first time, real pain registered on his face, quickly replaced by anger.
The crowd's reaction was immediate—gasps and excited murmurs spreading through the stands. An onlooker unfamiliar with cultivation might have believed the match was turning in Tae-Won's favor, but those with knowledge understood the reality: it was an impressive moment of resistance against an overwhelmingly superior opponent, nothing more.
Taekyung's expression darkened, pride wounded more than his body. "Enough games," he snarled, his calm facade cracking. "It's time I showed everyone why the Jin Clan's future belongs to true bloodlines, not street garbage."
His Qi surged visibly, the air around him distorting with heat as he began forming hand seals in rapid succession. Tae-Won recognized the sequence from Jin Taekyung's cultivation records—the Three Heavenly Flames technique that Min-Ji had warned about.
Tae-Won gathered his remaining Qi, preparing to exploit the 2.7-second formation delay the System had identified. It was a desperate gamble, but his only viable option against such overwhelming force.
As the first tendrils of flame began manifesting around Taekyung, Tae-Won launched forward, aiming to disrupt the technique during its vulnerable formation phase. Taekyung's eyes widened in surprise at the direct approach—most opponents instinctively retreated from the Three Heavenly Flames, giving him time to complete the formation.
Tae-Won's timing was precise, his strike aimed at the meridian juncture controlling the central flame pillar—the point the System had identified as requiring 31% more energy. For a moment, it seemed the gamble might succeed, his Qi-enhanced palm driving toward its target before the technique fully formed.
But Taekyung was not a "heavenly genius" without reason. Recognizing the threat, he adjusted mid-technique, sacrificing the elaborate visual display for raw power. The flames consolidated prematurely, erupting in a chaotic wave that caught Tae-Won before he could complete his strike.
The impact sent Tae-Won flying backward, his defensive Qi layer shattered by the overwhelming force. He crashed into the arena floor, meridians screaming in protest as he fought to maintain consciousness.
[Qi reserves: 31% and destabilized]
[Primary meridian system compromised]
[Secondary meridians maintaining minimal functionality]
[Warning: Continued combat inadvisable]
Through blurred vision, Tae-Won saw Taekyung stalking toward him, satisfaction evident in his expression. The crowd had fallen silent, sensing the match's imminent conclusion. Across the arena, Elder Jin watched impassively, though a slight tension in his posture suggested concern.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
"A valiant effort," Taekyung called mockingly as he approached. "But this is the difference between true Jin Clan heritage and slum talent. Know your place, rat."
Tae-Won struggled to his feet, swaying slightly as he reestablished his stance. His body protested every movement, meridians dangerously close to collapse from the strain. The logical conclusion was clear—surrender now, preserve his cultivation base, and accept the inevitable defeat with dignity.
Yet as Taekyung prepared another attack, something stirred within Tae-Won—a familiar pride that transcended rational calculation. If I had my previous strength, my imperial power, no bastard would dare speak to me with such contempt, he thought bitterly. As Emperor Reinhardt, he had commanded armies and challenged gods. Now, he stood struggling against a single arrogant noble.
If only I had my true power, the thought burned through him. If only I hadn't lost everything...
And suddenly, a memory surfaced with unexpected clarity—his old master's weathered face looking down at him with stern affection. Master Verpet, the legendary blade saint who had trained him before his ascension to the Latvarian throne.
----------------------------------------
The mountain air bit cold against young Edward Reinhart's skin, his blond hair matted with sweat from the day's brutal training. The sun had begun its descent behind the jagged peaks, casting long shadows across the training grounds.
Master Verpet stood before him, a mountain of a man, his massive frame silhouetted against the reddening sky. His beard moved gently in the mountain breeze as he looked down at his exhausted pupil.
"What is your goal, boy?" Verpet asked, his voice gruff yet carrying an undercurrent of patience.
Edward looked up in confusion, still trying to catch his breath. "What do you mean, Master Verpet?"
"I mean what do you plan to achieve after you return to Latvaria?" Verpet's question was pointed, direct, as it always was during these philosophical discussions that followed physical training.
Edward straightened, blue eyes blazing with conviction. "I wish to rule over this world and bring down the evil gods and deities." The answer came without hesitation, with all the certainty of youth.
"Mhm," Verpet nodded, "a noble and grand goal indeed." The massive warrior knelt to look Edward directly in the eyes. "But tell me, Edward, what will you do when you fail? Or rather, lose your power? Maybe even die?"
Edward's expression hardened immediately. "There's no way—"
"That's precisely your fault," Verpet interrupted, his massive hand coming to rest on Edward's shoulder with surprising gentleness. "You are a clever boy, one brimming with unimaginable talent. But your ego is your weakness. You get stuck up with your current level of power or what you currently have, and when you are finally dealt defeat, you ponder about what could have happened if you had this or that."
The words stung with their accuracy, but Edward's pride wouldn't let him acknowledge it. He opened his mouth to argue, but Verpet continued.
"It can't be helped, after all. It is human nature to think and want things you do not possess." His voice had grown softer but more intense. "Ask yourself this—you hate nobles who flaunt and abuse their power, but you are of the same cloth. They abuse the power they have; you merely embody it, using it as a shield or a weapon for when times are tough."
Edward flinched at the comparison, anger rising in his chest. But deep down, he recognized the truth in his master's words.
"But remember this, Edward," Verpet continued, his voice now barely above a whisper. "When you are dealt with a situation where you can't rely on anything, don't ponder on what could have happened or what happened in the past. Fight. And fight. The past is merely a part of you. Do not get stuck up—and fight. Only then will you surpass your limits."
Edward had looked away, unwilling to show how deeply the words had affected him. "I understand, Master."
"No, you don't," Verpet had replied with a small smile. "But someday, when everything is taken from you, you will."
----------------------------------------
The memory faded, but unlike before, Tae-Won held onto it, letting the wisdom of the God of Fists—for that was what Master Verpet had truly been—wash over him. This had been before he had challenged the throne, before he had dared to stand against gods themselves. When he was still learning the most fundamental lessons of true power.
A small, bitter smile formed on Tae-Won's battered face as understanding dawned. What the fuck have I been doing all this time? The thought came with startling clarity. Getting stronger, expanding my forces, building networks... but it was all Edward Reinhart thinking, not Tae-Won.
He staggered slightly, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. I didn't even know what I truly wanted. I was just chasing the past, trying to become an emperor again, to regain what I lost. This old familiar pride... it's been holding me back.
The realization hit him like a physical blow. He'd been internally denying the truth since he first awakened in this body. This wasn't Latvaria. Edward Reinhart held no power here. The courts, the nobles, the gods he knew—none of them existed in this world.
Instead, Tae-Won does, he thought, straightening despite the pain coursing through his body. I could die here. I could fail. But one thing that never changed between Tae-Won and Edward Reinhart—neither of us gives up until the end.
"Have you accepted your loss, you slum bastard?" Taekyung called, mistaking Tae-Won's expression for delirium. "You're just talking to yourself now. Pathetic."
But among the high-level masters watching, something curious was happening. Elder Jin leaned forward, his ancient eyes narrowing in concentration. The neutral arbiters exchanged glances of surprise. Even the mysterious shadow figures at the edges of the arena seemed to take notice.
"The boy's Qi flow," Elder Zhao murmured to Elder Jin. "It's changing."
Elder Jin nodded slightly, his expression revealing nothing. "Indeed."
"He was badly losing," Elder Song observed, "but now his energy is more refined, more circulated. Is he getting stronger mid-battle?"
"Impossible," Elder Zhao scoffed, though uncertainty tinged his voice. "Even a heavenly genius couldn't bridge such a gap in cultivation base."
Elder Jin remained silent, his eyes never leaving his disciple.
As Taekyung launched his next attack, Tae-Won abandoned thoughts of his former glory. Instead, he focused entirely on the present moment—the flow of Qi through his damaged meridians, the patterns of Taekyung's movements, the subtle weaknesses in his technique born of overconfidence.
[System Notice: Neural-meridian synchronization optimizing]
[Secondary meridian network activating emergency protocols]
[Path to Core Formation I unlocking - 23% complete]
With a clarity born of desperate acceptance, Tae-Won redirected his remaining Qi through undamaged secondary pathways. The unusual circulation pattern created an unpredictable energy signature, allowing him to slip past Taekyung's guard and land a precise strike to a vital meridian junction.
Taekyung stumbled, genuine shock registering on his face as his right arm temporarily lost Qi control. "Impossible," he muttered, before his expression twisted into fury. "You dare?"
The next exchange was brutal, Taekyung abandoning technique for raw power, hammering at Tae-Won's defenses with increasingly uncontrolled attacks. Tae-Won, operating on intuition and the System's guidance, managed to evade or deflect most strikes, occasionally finding openings for quick counters that further enraged his opponent.
The crowd's murmurs grew louder, astonishment spreading through the ranks as the match continued far beyond expectations. Even Elder Jin leaned forward slightly, his eternally calm expression showing the faintest hint of surprise.
But the fundamental reality remained unchanged—Tae-Won was operating on borrowed time. His Qi reserves had dropped to critical levels, his meridians sustaining damage with each exchange. Victory was impossible; survival itself increasingly doubtful. Taekyung's raw power was still far ahead of him, though his ego was now driving him to make mistakes.
Taekyung, sensing his opponent's weakening state, pressed forward with renewed confidence. A particularly powerful strike broke through Tae-Won's guard, sending him sprawling across the arena floor. This time, rising proved more difficult, his limbs responding sluggishly to his commands.
[Qi reserves: 12% - critical threshold]
[Multiple meridian pathways compromised]
[Warning: Cultivation base at risk]
Taekyung approached, contempt mingling with grudging respect in his expression. "You've surprised me, slum rat. Perhaps there was some merit to my grandfather's interest. But this ends now."
He began forming hand seals again, but these were different from before—more complex, requiring deeper concentration. Tae-Won recognized the sequence from the jade slip records with a chill of realization. Not the Three Heavenly Flames, but the Five Hells Consumption technique—a potentially lethal attack designed to incapacitate an opponent by burning their meridians from within.
Elder Jin rose to his feet, alarm evident in his sudden movement. "Taekyung!" he called sharply. "This is an assessment match!"
But Taekyung continued forming seals, his expression darkening with each movement. "A true Jin Clan disciple should be able to withstand clan techniques," he replied without looking away from Tae-Won. "If he cannot, then perhaps my grandfather's judgment was flawed."
Tae-Won struggled to his feet, gathering his remaining Qi for a final defense. The Five Hells Consumption was beyond his capacity to counter, but surrender was no longer an option—Taekyung's intent had shifted from victory to dominance, possibly even elimination.
As the final seal formed and flames gathered around Taekyung's hands, Tae-Won prepared to meet the attack head-on, knowing it would likely shatter his cultivation base but refusing to yield.
The moment stretched, tension filling the arena—and then a shadow flickered between them.
A figure in black intercepted Taekyung's attack, dispersing the gathered flames with a precise Qi pulse. "The rules only permitted a friendly match, Young Master," the shadow guard stated flatly. "Lethal techniques are disallowed and were against the rules. Do you intend to go against clan rules?"
Taekyung's eyes widened in fury. "Get the fuck away from me," he snarled, gathering power for another attack.
"Young Master, please stop!" One of his associates called from the sidelines, voice tight with alarm. "There are multiple guests here from other clans to see this duel, and the Patriarch himself is here!"
The words broke through Taekyung's rage. His gaze snapped upward to the highest viewing platform, where a commanding figure sat watching the proceedings. Even from this distance, the power radiating from the Patriarch was palpable—a significant aura that, while not dwarfing Elder Jin's considerable presence, was noticeably stronger and more refined.
Fear flashed briefly across Taekyung's face, quickly masked behind a neutral expression. "Very well," he said, stepping back and dropping his hands. "I merely wished to test the limits of my grandfather's disciple. No harm was intended."
The shadow guard remained between them for a moment longer before disappearing as suddenly as he had appeared. Elder Jin descended from his platform, his expression carefully controlled as he approached the center of the arena.
"This match is concluded," he announced, his voice carrying easily to every corner of the stands. "Due to Young Master Taekyung's use of prohibited techniques, it is declared a draw."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd, some voices raised in protest, others in speculation. Taekyung's face flushed with anger and embarrassment, but with the Patriarch watching, he could only bow stiffly before turning to leave, his entourage falling in around him.
Tae-Won swayed on his feet, the last of his strength fading now that immediate danger had passed. Liu Feng appeared at his side, supporting him discreetly as Elder Jin approached.
"You have represented me honorably," the old man said quietly, his expression revealing nothing of his true thoughts. "Return to your quarters and recover. We will discuss your performance later."
As Liu Feng helped him from the arena, Tae-Won caught glimpses of the crowd's reactions—shock, respect, calculation, and in many cases, reassessment. He had entered as an unknown slum orphan; he departed as someone who had stood against a Core Formation cultivator far longer than should have been possible.
But more important than external perceptions was the internal shift. The memory of Master Verpet had awakened something Tae-Won had been missing since his transmigration—not the power of Emperor Reinhardt, but the mindset that had allowed him to become emperor in the first place. The determination to face each challenge with the resources at hand, rather than lamenting what was lost.
His body might be different, his cultivation still developing, but the core of who he was remained. And that, perhaps, was worth more than all his former glory.
As the arena faded from view, Tae-Won noticed a group of shadows conferring with Elder Jin, their forms flickering at the edge of visibility. The same group that had intervened during the match, perhaps? Their presence raised new questions, but those would have to wait. For now, his priority was recovery and reflection.
[Current Realm: Body Refinement Stage 3]
[Cultivation base destabilized - immediate recuperation required]
[System Notice: Path to Core Formation I unlocking - 26% complete]
[System Notice: New pathway detected - analyzing...]
----------------------------------------
Elder Jin watched as his disciple was escorted from the arena, his ancient face revealing nothing of his thoughts. When the crowd had dispersed enough to ensure privacy, he turned to the shadow captain who had materialized at his side.
"Did you bring what I asked?" he inquired, voice low.
The shadow bowed slightly. "Yes, my lord."
"And?"
"Tae-Won has no parents, siblings, or any sort of family we could detect," the shadow reported. "Which in the slums isn't too uncommon, but..."
Elder Jin's eyes narrowed. "But?"
"No one other than the children knows this child," the shadow continued. "We asked about him or his whereabouts and could find no details except from one individual who apparently lives quite near him."
"And what did he say?"
"He was a slum dweller and quite drunk, but we used a truth serum on him," the shadow explained. "He said he's seen that boy before—he lived in the abandoned shack across from him. His memory was unclear, but he said a child used to live in it, or rather showed up randomly. He always looked lifeless, or rather, he never came outside. The man had thought he had moved out, and then one day the boy had suddenly woken up and started cultivating."
Elder Jin's expression remained neutral, but his eyes gleamed with interest. "Interesting. Continue your investigation. I want to know everything about my disciple's past—everything."
The shadow bowed deeply. "As you command, Great Elder."
As the shadow disappeared, Elder Jin gazed thoughtfully in the direction Tae-Won had departed. The match had confirmed his suspicions—his disciple was far more than a talented slum child. The techniques he had displayed, his fighting instincts, the way he had adapted to Taekyung's attacks... these spoke of experience far beyond his apparent years.
More intriguing still was the subtle shift in the boy's Qi flow mid-battle—a refinement that shouldn't have been possible under such pressure. For a moment, it had almost seemed as if an entirely different person was fighting through the boy's body.
"Who are you really, Tae-Won?" Elder Jin murmured to himself as he turned to leave the arena. "And what twist of fate brought you to my attention?"
The answer to that question, he suspected, would prove far more interesting than today's match. For now, he would continue watching, guiding, and waiting for the moment when the truth would inevitably reveal itself.
----------------------------------------
Jin Taekyung stormed into his private chambers, flinging his formal robes aside with a snarl. His entourage remained outside, none daring to follow him in his current mood. The servants had scattered at his approach, sensing the dangerous aura surrounding the young master.
He paced the ornate room like a caged beast, flames occasionally flickering at his fingertips as his control slipped. The humiliation burned worse than any physical wound—to be denied his rightful victory, to be stopped by a mere shadow guard in front of the entire clan and their guests.
"Young Master," a calm voice called from the doorway.
Taekyung whirled, fire gathering in his palm. "I said I wanted to be alone!"
The Patriarch of the Jin Clan stood in the doorway, his presence filling the room without effort. Though not as ancient as Elder Jin, the Patriarch carried himself with the unquestionable authority of one who had reached the highest levels of cultivation. His expression was neutral, but his eyes held a calculating gleam that immediately doused Taekyung's anger.
"F-Father," Taekyung stammered, dropping immediately to one knee. "I greet the Grand Patriarch."
The Patriarch entered the room, closing the door behind him with a subtle gesture. "Rise," he commanded.
As Taekyung stood, servants materialized from the shadows, arranging tea and departing just as silently.
"You all can leave," the Patriarch said to the hidden guards in the room.
"Yes, Great Lord," came the whispered response as several shadows detached themselves from corners and departed, leaving father and son truly alone.
The Patriarch settled himself at the tea table, gesturing for Taekyung to join him. "Your performance today was... interesting."
Taekyung's face flushed with shame. "I apologize, Father. I underestimated that bastard. Next time I'll definitely—"
"One week," the Patriarch interrupted, his voice soft but cutting through Taekyung's words like a blade.
"What?" Taekyung blinked in confusion.
"That 'bastard,' as you call him, has been cultivating for one week."
Taekyung froze, teacup halfway to his lips. "What—what do you mean?"
"It is just as you hear, Taekyung," the Patriarch said calmly, taking a measured sip of his tea. "Tae-Won has been cultivating for one singular week."
"W-what? That's impossible, that can't be," Taekyung stammered, his face paling. "No one could advance to Body Refinement Stage 3 in a week, let alone withstand attacks from a Core Formation cultivator. Father, there must be some mistake."
"I thought that at first too," the Patriarch replied, setting down his cup with deliberate precision. "I sent shadows and spies to observe him—albeit my father found out instantly, but weirdly enough, he let it happen. I had them dig up information. Nothing really remarkable, except for one thing." His eyes narrowed. "He randomly started cultivating and beat the Jin Clan outer disciples on his first day."
Taekyung's face was a mask of nervousness and confusion. "What—outer disciples on his first day?"
"It is as you hear." The Patriarch's gaze hardened. "Do not underestimate that bastard in any regard, Taekyung."
A heavy silence fell between them, broken only by the soft whisper of tea being poured from the pot. Taekyung's hands trembled slightly as he processed this information.
"How is this possible?" he finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
The Patriarch's expression turned contemplative. "There are legends of those who possess innate knowledge of cultivation—souls that carry wisdom from previous lives, or perhaps vessels chosen by heaven itself." He fixed his son with a penetrating stare. "Whatever the case, your grandfather has found something extraordinary."
"And this... concerns you?" Taekyung asked, carefully reading his father's tone.
A thin smile crossed the Patriarch's face. "Everything that happens within the Jin Clan concerns me. Especially when it involves my father taking a personal interest in a slum orphan with inexplicable talents." He rose from his seat in one fluid motion. "Watch him carefully, Taekyung. Learn what you can, but do not provoke him directly again."
"You think he poses a threat to our position?" Taekyung asked, anxiety evident in his voice. "Only those of Jin blood can compete for the heir position—"
"There are... special exceptions," the Patriarch cut in, his expression darkening. "Ancient clan laws allow for adoption in certain circumstances."
Taekyung's face paled further. "Surely Grandfather wouldn't—"
"I do not claim to understand my father's intentions," the Patriarch interrupted. "But I know he sees something in that boy that interests him greatly." He moved toward the door with deliberate steps. "And Taekyung—"
"Yes, Father?"
"Next time you face him, win decisively or not at all. The Jin Clan cannot afford to appear divided before our rivals." His eyes glinted. "Especially not with the Martial Festival approaching. The immortal cultivators will soon be descending—the ancestors of the Jin Clan return every decade to assess our progress."
The implications hung heavy in the air. Failure before the immortal ancestors would be catastrophic for their branch of the family.
The Patriarch paused at the threshold, looking back over his shoulder. "Watch out, Taekyung. The northern district of the Jin Clan is raising a monster."
With those final words, he departed, leaving Taekyung alone with his thoughts and the chilling warning that echoed through the empty chamber.
-End Of Chapter