The Outer Court Competition had reached a temporary halt. A brief intermission, an hour or two at most, was declared after the completion of the first round. Of the original one hundred disciples, half had already been eliminated. Now, only fifty remained. The second round would pit them against one another, reducing their numbers to twenty-five, and from there, the real battle for supremacy would begin.
All around the massive sect arena, disciples meditated silently, refining their energy and swallowing precious elixirs in desperate attempts to return to peak condition. Every breath was a bid for strength. Every second, a wager on survival.
And yet, even in their silence, one name hung over the battlefield like a storm cloud.
Chen Zhen. The boy once mocked as crippled. The boy whose cultivation had stagnated for years.
The boy who now possessed a Saint Physique and wielded the terrifying power of space.
Whispers spread like wildfire through the crowd of spectators and competitors alike.
"I didn't think things would escalate to this level," one disciple muttered, eyes wide in disbelief. "Who would've thought that one of the most useless disciples in the sect would awaken such monstrous power?"
"A Saint Physique that manipulates space itself... That's not just rare, it's unheard of!" another added, voice shaking. "Chen Zhen, Han Yan, Xiao Wusheng… These monsters, they're not just outer disciples anymore. They're already standing at the peak."
"What about the Little Devil King, Han Yan?" a nearby disciple raised an eyebrow. "When did we start calling him that?"
"I think it fits. After that devilish transformation in the arena, you can't deny he's earned it."
Sighs filled the air, mingling with the tension. "From what we've seen so far, even Ma Kui might not stand a chance. And Chen Zhen's injured! Isn't that absurd?!"
"Try fighting someone who can twist space like a toy," someone else scoffed. "When Chen Zhen breaks into the Manifestation Stage, he might just fight for the position of Holy Son."
The hum of conversation deepened as patterns from weeks past began to make sense. Strange phenomena, warped space, unnatural pressure in the sect grounds, events they'd once dismissed as rumors. But now, with Gojo's awakening, everything fell into place.
At the executive podium, far above the crowd, Gojo sat slouched in his seat, his side heavily bandaged. MeiYing, with practiced care, applied an expensive golden-hued healing balm to the festering wound that marked his most recent battle.
"Agh, damn it, woman! That stings!" Gojo hissed through clenched teeth, jerking slightly.
MeiYing rolled her eyes and restrained her hand from smacking the back of his head. "Stop being such a drama queen," she snapped.
To the side, Du Yun stood with arms folded, face unreadable.
Gojo, wincing from the sting, looked at him and teased through a pained grin, "You look even more emotionless than usual, brother. Ow—!"
He reached to tap Du Yun's shoulder but flinched in pain from the sudden movement.
Du Yun's expression barely shifted, but his lips parted. "It's nothing," he said softly. "You just… scared me a little during that fight."
The boy exhaled deeply, the image of Gojo's bleeding body flashing again in his mind.
Gojo's smile faded into something gentler. He looked out across the arena and murmured, bringing out memories as the past Chen Zhen.
"Remember that night we ran away from the shelter? The rain, the cold, the darkness?"
Du Yun turned slowly, his grip on his sword tightening. "I remember," he said. "You said to me, 'As long as I, Chen Zhen, am alive, nothing or no one would ever harm my little brother Du Yun.'"
His voice trembled slightly as he recalled the words. MeiYing, having finished the treatment, carefully pressed a white cloth onto the wound to seal the balm's effects.
"You're reckless," she muttered, sitting beside him.
Gojo leaned back, brushing his hair behind his ears. "There are some battles I need to fight myself, Du Yun," he said. "Not because I doubt you or your strength. It's a matter of pride and ego. One day, when you've lived long enough, you'll understand me."
His voice, for once, wasn't laced with sarcasm or theatrics. It was raw and sincere.
In truth, even if he had lost to the demonized Han Yan, he would never have let Du Yun step in. Just like in his past life, he wouldn't have let his students face Sukuna before him. That wasn't pride. That was responsibility.
Du Yun's eyes gleamed as he stared at the ground. "But I'm stronger now," he whispered. "You don't have to carry everything alone. If you do… what's the point of my strength?"
The sincerity in his voice caught even MeiYing off guard. She glanced sideways at Gojo, curious.
Gojo tilted his head, then smiled. "What is strength, Du Yun?"
He rubbed his chin like a monk delivering scripture, prompting MeiYing to roll her eyes.
"Strength is power," Du Yun said. "The power to protect what you cherish."
Gojo nodded, but his expression darkened a little. "Not wrong," he said. "But strength isn't just power. It's the freedom to act according to your will, even when the world tells you not to. It's standing tall when you're alone, laughing in the face of despair, and choosing mercy when you could dominate."
He turned toward Du Yun, eyes filled with conviction.
"Real strength... is when you don't need to prove it, but you still do, for the people who need you to be strong."
Du Yun looked up slowly, breathing heavily.
"You're strong, Du Yun," Gojo continued. "But don't just be strong for me. Be strong for you. Cultivate not just to follow me, but to surpass me. Only then can you protect what you love and stand at the peak."
Silence followed. Then, from the other end of the podium, dark eyes stared venomously at them.
Luo Ping, Luo Li, and Zhao Mei sat together, brooding in silence. Hatred simmered in their gazes.
"How the hell did that bastard awaken a Saint Physique?" Luo Li hissed, his face red with rage. "He humiliated me in front of everyone!"
Zhao Mei's gaze flicked to Gojo, her lips pressed tight, her fist clenching subconsciously.
"No matter what, a frog will always be a frog," she muttered. "Even if you give it wings, it can't fly out of its pond."
Luo Ping clicked his tongue. "Saint Physique or not, I'll crush him with my own two hands!"
---
Not long after, the presiding elder's voice boomed through the repaired arena.
"The competition resumes!"
The once-shattered battlefield was pristine again. The space distortion from Gojo's last clash had been stabilized by several formation masters working overtime.
The second round kicked off at once.
Surprisingly, or perhaps not, any disciple who found themselves pitted against Chen Zhen forfeited on the spot. One by one, they bowed, raised their hands, and stepped aside.
Gojo didn't even have to walk to the stage.
"That's more like it," he smirked, tossing a grape into his mouth.
The top contenders followed suit, making swift work of their challengers, determined not to fall behind.
It was the fastest round in the history of the tournament. In less than an hour, the numbers dropped from 50 to 25.
Another break was granted. One final hour of rest before Round Three.
Gojo even made the effort to rush back to his abode and return with bags of exotic snacks. He, MeiYing, and Du Yun sat like royalty, munching contentedly while others fought for their lives.
Then, the presiding elder rose once again.
"Only 25 disciples remain! In the next round, 15 will be eliminated. The remaining 10 will battle for position among the Top 10!"
The crowd erupted in cheers. This was it. The elites were about to clash.
For the competitors, the stakes had never been higher.
Those who made it through would be granted elite resources, inner core discipleship, and the acknowledgement of the Sect Elders. It was a chance to ascend.
And then, the elder announced the matchups.
"Ready yourselves, competitors!"
The names were called:
Ma Kui vs. Zhan Tian
Su Qingshi vs. Zhou Ling'er
Ma Kui vs. Long Feng
Xiao Wusheng vs. Zhu Feng
Chen Zhen vs. Lu Changqing
The crowd gasped. Cheers and chants followed like thunder. The matches between Chen Zhen and Lu Changqing, and Xiao Wusheng and Zhu Feng, drew the loudest reactions.
The time for destiny had arrived.
And the arena trembled once more, not from battle, but from anticipation.
---
A/N: Donations have dropped to a bare minimum. Come on guys. Let's do better.