From Abbot Shen Ming's Perspective
Others might not have noticed, but I did.
I knew better than anyone in that hall just how terrifying the boy called Zhuge Yu Jin truly was.Even I — with years of meditation, study, and the observation of souls — could not fully understand how it was possible.But the truth was simple, and impossible to deny:that young man was no ordinary cultivator.He wasn't a genius.He wasn't a prodigy.
He was a monster.
A monster his own father had once left at my monastery, claiming we needed to "purify" his violent nature.A task that, I admit now, we failed completely.
Not because we didn't try.But because some things cannot be healed.The essence of Zhuge Yu Jin was not darkness, nor corruption — it was something deeper.Something the spiritual world has no name for.A force that refused to be molded.And perhaps, in truth, our greatest mistake was trying to tame it at all.
Now, there was nothing left to do but return him —to send him back to the home that had created him, perhaps even prepared to deal with what he truly was.
As I thought of this, my eyes turned back to the arena.Silence reigned, broken only by the distant hiss of spiritual fire slowly fading into the air.The Wu girl — the emperor's daughter — stood frozen before Yu Jin, her sword still in hand.
Her eyes were wide, filled with a childlike shock.She looked at him as one might look upon something that did not belong to this world.The blade in her grasp still trembled slightly, as if the energy within it refused to accept defeat.
Yu Jin's golden flame was dying away, leaving only the amber glow in his eyes — and that same careless smile.
I could see it clearly.She didn't understand what had happened.No one did.
A strike that should have been unbeatable — stopped by a single hand.No technique.No defense.No effort.
I sighed, and when I lifted my gaze, I noticed Emperor Wu watching me.
His eyes — cold and green as jade — searched mine, silently demanding an answer he dared not voice aloud.But I understood.
And with the calm that age had granted me, I bowed slightly and broke the silence.
"This is a Martial Physique?" he asked, direct, like the seasoned warrior he was.
"Yes," I replied evenly."But even I know little beyond that… As for what kind of Martial Physique it is, I fear only the former Emperor Zhuge would know."
The emperor frowned but nodded.The answer unsettled him — I could feel it.But he didn't press further.He was a man accustomed to accepting what he could not control.
His gaze returned to the center of the arena.This time, it lacked the hardness it had held moments ago.It wasn't the look of an emperor disappointed by disobedience —but that of a father concerned for his daughter.
The girl stood trembling, her breathing uneven, her body weakened from spiritual backlash.The red aura that had once surrounded her was gone, color slowly returning to her pale face.
The emperor said nothing, but I knew what he was thinking.And I could not blame him.
To know the name Zhuge Yu Jin was one thing.But to see Zhuge Yu Jin in action — that was something entirely different.Even a man like Emperor Wu, hardened by decades of war, was likely wondering whether he truly wished to hand his daughter over to someone like that.
I stepped forward slightly, hands clasped behind my back, and spoke with measured calm:
"She is safe," I said, hoping to ease the weight in the air."During the journey, I will naturally protect her. And once in Zhuge Island… the current emperor is no simple man either. He will not allow any harm to befall your daughter."
The emperor turned his gaze back to me — and for the first time that day, I saw him relax, if only slightly.His chin dipped in a short nod — the kind of gesture that said more than words ever could.
The man who, moments ago, had watched the duel as judgment, now looked only like a father relieved his daughter still lived.
And in that moment, as I watched in silence, I understood something:no matter how powerful, how glorious, or how spiritually advanced we are…in the end, we are all the same before what we love.
Zhuge Yu Jin had won.But something told me that from this day on, none of us would sleep easily again.
Yet even with the emperor somewhat reassured, I was not.
My eyes turned once more to the arena — to the young girl lowering her head and sheathing her sword.The fire was gone completely now — not even the faint shimmer of Qi surrounded her anymore.That kind of exhaustion was the mark of someone who had gone beyond every limit, who had poured her entire soul into a single strike.
She was breathing heavily.Her knees trembled, but she forced herself to stand tall.And even in defeat, she did not cry.Not a single tear.
Her silence was heavy.Not the silence of resignation — but of someone screaming within.
I saw her fingers tighten around the sword's sheath until her knuckles turned white.The pride of the Wu Family, the martial spirit of generations of warriors —everything about her said she must not bow, could not yield.But reality was cruel: she had been defeated with ease that defied reason.
Across the arena, Yu Jin remained still, wearing that same relaxed smile.He didn't even look at her with disdain — and perhaps that was the worst of it.His indifference was like salt on a wound.To her eyes, it must have felt as though the duel had meant nothing at all.
And in a sense, it hadn't.
That boy didn't see the world the way others did.To him, every battle was just a distraction — a fleeting spark of movement in an existence that bored him.And though the young Wu girl had fought with heart, blood, and spirit, to him it was no more than a passing breeze.
Then, I sensed something far more dangerous.
As she began to retreat, her steps slow and her gaze empty, I felt a subtle tremor — not in the air, but in the Dao itself.A fissure.A tiny, invisible crack that any experienced cultivator would recognize.
Her Dao Heart had been wounded.
She hadn't merely lost a duel.She had lost herself within it.
And that… was the most dangerous kind of defeat.
She seemed calm — serene, even.But I knew what hid behind that calm: the seed of a heart demon.That whisper deep inside the spirit, replaying the memory of failure over and over.The memory that grows, silently, until it becomes a prison for the soul.
I had seen it before.Great geniuses who faded after a single loss.Unmatched talents who, unable to accept their mistake, never advanced another step in cultivation.
The Wu girl, as strong as she was, was still young.And the wound Yu Jin left wasn't on her body — it was in her spirit.
I took a deep breath, hands joined before my chest.All I could do now was wait.Wait and hope she would somehow find a way to confront it.To understand, accept, and move forward.
Because if she couldn't…
Then her path as a cultivator would end here.And what would be born in her place would be nothing but a shadow —the echo of a young woman who once dared to defy fate, only to become trapped within her own heart.