"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.

  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.

  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.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  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.

  

  

  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