The arena was still buzzing with murmurs after Jin's third victory. Whispers of disbelief spread like wildfire—some claimed he was a trickster, others whispered of hidden cultivation, and some insisted the gods themselves had interfered.
The Clan Leader, however, raised his hand, and silence fell. His voice, calm and unwavering, declared:
"One hour. Then we resume."
The nobles obeyed without question.
Jin was escorted back down into the prisoner's wing. His body was weary, sweat still clinging to his brow, but his eyes were lit with a childish sparkle. He ignored the guards who hissed insults at him, marching straight to where Ruan was kept.
She was on the ground now, still chained, her small frame curled against the cold stone floor. Her lip was split, her face pale. When she lifted her eyes to him, relief and worry clashed in her gaze.
"Did you see that?!" Jin blurted out immediately, practically bouncing in front of her. He gestured wildly, imitating the slash across the neck and the way he stopped the blade with his hand. "Boom! Slash! Genius! HA! I'm amazing, right? Say it, say it!"
Ruan stared at him in silence. She really thought… he was going to die.
"Idiot…" her voice was hoarse. "You're too careless! What if—what if that sword really got you?"
Jin's grin softened. For a moment, the bravado slipped. He crouched down beside her and gently patted her head, the gesture surprisingly tender.
"Don't worry so much," he said softly, his childish tone still there but quieter now. "See? Still alive. Still handsome."
Ruan's eyes trembled. She had never once thought of him as handsome, but right now, she couldn't deny the warmth she felt.
Jin sat cross-legged beside her, his grin returning. He tapped her shoulder and leaned in. "But… tell me honestly. Did you see it? That moment. When my face… had no emotion?"
Ruan froze. She had seen it. Just for a second during the fight, his eyes had gone cold, empty—like a void that could swallow the entire arena. She had almost not recognized him.
Her lips quivered. "…What was that?"
Jin laughed suddenly, rolling onto his back like a child mocking the stars. "What was it? Acting, of course! Come on, do you really think I could be scary? Me? A little old guy like this?" He puffed his cheeks and pulled a silly face, breaking into laughter. "I was just tricking the crowd. You should've seen their faces!"
Ruan's heart eased, though doubt lingered. She wanted to believe him. She had to.
"Pretend…" she muttered. "Good."
Jin turned his head toward her and gave her a bright smile—so bright it almost looked real. "Yup. Just pretend."
But inside, he knew better. Someone like Ruan should never see that side of him. Best to let her believe it was a joke.
Far above, in the inner chambers of the Clan Hall, three men sat around a low table.
Lord Bi'an.
Shen.
And the Clan Leader himself.
The fragrance of tea filled the room, but the air was thick with tension. Shen sat stiff, hands folded neatly, feeling the weight of two titans in the same room.
The Clan Leader's expression was cold as stone. His voice was slow, deliberate.
"Bi'an," he said, his hand tightening around his teacup. "Who is he?"
Lord Bi'an did not flinch. "I told you before. I don't know."
Crack.
The porcelain shattered in the Clan Leader's hand, tea spilling across the table. The sound was sharper than any blade.
"Do not play me for a fool." His eyes glinted dangerously. "A man who can do that—who claims no master, no surname, no clan—you expect me to believe you know nothing? He displayed no orthodox style, yet his killing intent… Tell me, Bi'an, how long do you intend to insult me?"
Lord Bi'an's jaw tightened. But when he spoke, his voice cut through the Clan Leader's words like steel.
"I know nothing of him," he said firmly. "Neither do I, nor does Shen. His origins are unknown—even to me. That is the truth."
The Clan Leader's eyes narrowed.
But Lord Bi'an continued, his voice lowering. "Though there is one question you must ask yourself."
The silence was suffocating.
"…Do you believe he is holding back?"
The Clan Leader did not reply immediately. A fresh cup of tea was placed in front of him. He lifted it, staring into the rippling surface.
"He is not a master," the Clan Leader said finally. "He barely uses a style at all. And yet, he fights in a way that avoids excess. He wins, but he does not show his hand. That bloodlust… that is what I wish to see."
Lord Bi'an's eyes narrowed further. "Then be careful. If he survives the next three, he will not beat you. But if he ever chooses to fight you… truly fight you…" He left the words hanging.
Shen, silent until now, felt his stomach twist. If Jin wanted to, he could beat the Clan Leader. I've seen enough to believe it. The girl… she's his anchor. If she dies… what will that man become?
A guard entered, bowing low. "Clan Leader, the fourth opponent has been chosen."
The Clan Leader gave a single nod of approval.
Lord Bi'an looked up. "Who?"
The Clan Leader's lips curved into something that might, if one were reckless, be called a smile.
"My son."
Lord Bi'an froze.
"What madness is this?!" His voice thundered, rising for the first time. "You would throw your own blood into that pit?! For what?"
The Clan Leader's expression did not change. His voice was low, chilling.
"To see how far I can push him. To see what hides behind his mask. There is no better way to force a man to reveal himself than to corner him. Against my son, I want to see if he breaks—or if he kills."
Lord Bi'an's fists clenched. He could not believe it.
The Clan Leader drank his tea calmly, as if he hadn't just declared a storm.
And in that quiet chamber, even Shen felt fear crawl up his spine.