The Commerce Chamber's Training Grounds were boiling with activity.
Dozens of disciples moved between stone platforms, exchanging blows, incomplete techniques, and anxious glances. Everyone wanted to stand out. Everyone wanted to be seen.
Adrián did not.
He moved carefully, measuring every step, every breath. His strikes were clumsy… and far from devastating. His dodges were clean… but always just slightly late. He sweated. He panted. Some attacks grazed him.
Just enough to evade.Not enough to be dangerous.
Good… he thought while blocking a punch and stepping back twice. Mid-level rhythm. One mistake every six movements. Irregular breathing.
The disciple in front of him smiled, believing he had gained ground.
Adrián 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 sounded behind him.
Adrián turned instinctively—too late.
BAM!
A sharp strike hit his ribs, precise as a well-placed hammer blow. The air burst from his lungs in a brutal gasp.
"What the—?" he managed to say before—
BAM!
A knee to the abdomen.
He dropped to his knees.
"Your stance isn't stable," the voice continued calmly. "Your movements are slow."
Adrián barely had time to raise his gaze. In front of him stood an old man in simple robes, back straight, hands clasped behind him. He emitted not even a trace of detectable qi.
That's what's terrifying, Adrián thought.
"Your level can increase," said the elder. "Your posture can improve."
BAM!
A clean strike to the shoulder. Educational. Painful.
Adrián rolled across the ground, struggling to breathe.
"Who… the hell are you?" he growled, genuinely confused.
"Someone bored," the old man replied. "And you are interesting."
BAM!
This time to the leg.
You crazy old man! Adrián thought while clumsily standing. You didn't even ask for consent for this tutoring session!
From the outside, it looked like brutal training.From the inside… Adrián understood something worse.
Every strike corrected a mistake he hadn't even realized he was making.
"If you keep fighting like this," said the elder, "you won't reach the finals.""If you don't…" another strike sent him to the ground, "…you'll lose before that."
Adrián lay flat on his back, breathing as if he had just climbed a mountain.
And then—
"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!?"
The voice struck like lightning.
The old man blinked.
Adrián did too.
Su Meilan was striding across the training grounds, her brows furrowed, her fury barely restrained. She saw Adrián on the ground, sweating, struggling to breathe… and then the old man.
"Father!" she exclaimed. "Why are you beating the young disciples like that!? Your job is to supervise the Commerce Chamber's finances, not come here and abuse practitioners!"
Absolute silence fell.
Nearby disciples pretended to train with extreme enthusiasm… while stealing glances.
Adrián slowly opened his eyes.
Father.
He looked at the old man.
The old man looked at him.
He smiled.
"Abuse?" he said with perfect innocence. "I was just training him a little."
Su Meilan stepped in front of him, indignant.
"He's on the ground! He can barely stand!"
"That means he learned something," the old man replied, shrugging. "Besides…"
He leaned slightly forward and stared shamelessly at Adrián.
"I wanted to meet the boy my daughter keeps talking about."
SHE KEEPS TALKING ABOUT ME!?
Adrián coughed. A lot.
"And," the elder added with a dangerous smile, "to confirm whether he's worth it… or not."
Su Meilan turned red.
"That's not true!"
"Of course not," he said in an amused tone. "I exaggerate."
He turned to leave as if nothing had happened.
"Same time tomorrow," he said over his shoulder. "Rest well, boy… you'll need it."
The old man walked away.
Su Meilan immediately turned back to Adrián and knelt beside him.
"Are you alright?" she asked, genuinely concerned.
Adrián inhaled deeply… and forced a smile.
"I think… I just discovered I'm not cut out for this. Maybe I should stay a merchant."
She stared at him for a few seconds.
Then sighed.
"My father is unbearable."
"He is… and dangerous," Adrián replied.
They looked at each other.
And for the first time since the tournament began, Adrián felt something clearly:
Reaching the finals was going to be painfully difficult.
The Celestial Coliseum was filled to the last seat.
Sect banners waved solemnly, and defensive formations hummed softly beneath the weight of thousands of watching eyes. It was the day Heaven would "choose," and everyone wanted to witness it.
In the central stand, elevated above the rest, sat Lin Yue.
The Saint.
She wore immaculate white robes, free of unnecessary ornamentation. Her presence was serene, almost distant—but those who knew her understood that nothing escaped her perception. Her hands rested together on her lap… though occasionally her fingers tightened slightly, as if remembering the weight of something small and seemingly insignificant.
A pill.
"The Saint is watching," someone whispered in the crowd. "This tournament will be remembered."
Several seats away, Su Meilan and her father observed silently.
"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 an almost offensive purity. Every step seemed aligned with Heaven's will. The elders nodded with approval.
Lin Yue looked at him.
Her expression did not change.
But she did not stand.
She did not smile.
Ye Chen noticed.
A slight furrow of his brow. An imperfection in his breathing.
Then Adrián entered.
No music.No dominant aura.No heroic intent.
He dressed simply—almost too simply. He walked like someone arriving late to a meeting, not to a stage where a sect's fate would be decided.
The murmuring began immediately.
"Isn't that…?"
"The one who gave the gift…"
"The insolent merchant."
Lin Yue raised her gaze.
Her eyes settled on Adrián with silent, dangerous attention.
It wasn't reproach.Nor admiration.
It was… evaluation.
"He's changed," Su Meilan murmured.
"No," said an elderly woman beside her. "That boy never changes."
Adrián's first match was simple.
Too simple.
His opponent attacked with a flashy, qi-overflowing technique. The audience applauded.
Adrián took a single step sideways.
Nothing more.
The attack missed.
A short shove to the elbow. A poorly calculated spin by his opponent. The disciple fell outside the arena, confused, unable to understand what had happened.
"Was that luck?" someone whispered.
Lin Yue narrowed her eyes.
It had not been luck.
In the following matches, the same thing happened.
Adrián sweated. He panted. He made just enough mistakes.He always seemed one second behind…Yet he was never where the blow landed.
"He's acting," Su Meilan said. "Before, he couldn't do it this well."
"One week," her father replied. "And he understood something crucial:appearing weak is harder than being strong."
Ye Chen watched from his platform.
Every one of Adrián's victories was a thorn.
Not because of the result.Because of the method.
There was no direct challenge.No open humiliation.
Just a constant, irritating presence… like a reminder.
Lin Yue lowered her gaze for a moment.
She remembered the cardboard box.The dull-looking pill that helped her advance.The way Adrián had not waited for applause.
At the end of the day, Adrián left the stage 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 will reach the finals," she said quietly.
Su Meilan turned, surprised.
"You think so?"
The Saint gave a slight nod.
"I'm certain," she added.
Her father smiled.
In the distance, Ye Chen clenched his fists.
The hero advanced toward his destiny.
And the villain…Destined to lose.