When Larry heard he would face Jason in the semi-final, a slow smile spread across his face. He turned fully toward the younger fighter and spoke loud enough for the nearest spectators to hear.
"You've been watching my matches. You already know what I can do. Save us both the time and forfeit. I'd rather save my strength for a real fight against Austin."
Jason's fingers curled into fists at his sides. "Sorry to disappoint you. I'm not leaving this arena until I've given everything I have—and won."
Larry laughed, short and sharp. "You think I'm the same as Todd? He held back because he never saw you as a real threat. I don't hold back. If you're careless, walking away with only bruises won't be an option."
*He's not entirely wrong,* the bracelet murmured inside Jason's mind. *But he's also not entirely right. Everyone has a weak point. Todd's was stamina. Find Larry's and the match becomes simple.*
*The problem,* Jason answered silently, *is staying conscious long enough to find it.*
Austin, who had remained on the platform until the pairing was confirmed, gave a low chuckle and started toward the edge of the arena. At the boundary he paused and looked back, first at Larry, then at Jason.
"I'll be waiting for whichever of you survives. I genuinely hope it's you, outsider. It would be more interesting." His gaze lingered on Jason a moment longer—measuring, almost curious—before he stepped down.
Larry folded his arms. "Stop daydreaming, Austin. We both know he won't reach the final. Unless you're already looking for an excuse to avoid fighting me."
Austin's answering smile was thin. "Why would I be afraid of you?"
"You should be. Once I'm finished breaking this one, you're next."
"I'll be waiting. Try not to waste too much energy on the warm-up." Austin's voice carried a clear edge as he walked away. "Let's see who leaves with broken bones."
The moment Austin was gone, Larry's attention snapped back to Jason. The earlier amusement had hardened into something colder.
"Last warning, boy. Step off the platform or don't complain about what follows."
Jason met his eyes without flinching. "I don't like repeating myself. If you still want to fight, stop shouting and start."
A ripple of surprised laughter moved through the higher seats. The family head leaned forward slightly, a low chuckle escaping him.
"The boy has fire. That's rare."
One of the nearby elders nodded. "Too bad he isn't family blood. With that temperament and the speed of his recent progress he would have been a solid seedling."
The grand elder, seated closest to the family head, stroked his beard. "It would be a genuine miracle if he won this round."
"I doubt it," the family head answered, "but the possibility isn't zero. The tournament has already produced one surprise today."
The grand elder's eyes brightened with sudden interest. "Why don't we old-timers make the match a little more entertaining? A small wager on the outcome."
Several elders turned at once.
"What did you have in mind?"
"Anything of real value. Herbs, techniques, treasures—place whatever you're willing to risk."
A low murmur of agreement rose. One after another the elders began setting out their stakes: rare spirit herbs sealed in jade boxes, thin manuals of secondary techniques, a few mid-grade spirit artifacts. Almost without exception the bets landed on Larry. The pile of valuables grew quickly.
Only then did the others notice that neither the family head nor the grand elder had yet committed.
"Grand Elder, are you not joining?" one asked.
The grand elder smiled and inclined his head toward the family head. "I'll place mine after he does."
The family head gave an awkward laugh and raised both hands. "Everyone knows my luck with gambling is terrible. I won't risk anything myself—but I'm willing to hold the stakes and act as matcher if that helps."
"Accepted," an elder said at once. "Then Grand Elder—who are you backing?"
The grand elder reached into his sleeve and drew out three crystal-clear pills that caught the afternoon light like drops of solidified moonlight. A collective intake of breath moved through the older men.
"Enlightenment Pills?" the family head asked, eyes sharpening. "The kind that increase the chance of breaking through a bottleneck?"
"Lower-grade versions," the grand elder confirmed, "but still valuable enough to make the wager interesting. I'm placing them on the outsider."
One of the elders frowned. "Grand Elder, isn't that wasteful? The match is unlikely to last a full minute."
The grand elder's smile only widened. "Nothing is wasted if it makes the afternoon more lively. All of you went all-in on Larry. I simply chose the other side so the game has teeth."
No one argued further. The family head carefully collected the three pills and the rest of the stakes, sealing them with a brief pulse of energy so they could not be disputed later. He settled back into his chair, gaze returning to the two young men on the platform.
*I still don't understand why he bet on the outsider,* the family head thought privately. *This match won't last a minute.*
On the packed earth below, Larry rolled his shoulders and settled into a ready stance, spiritual energy already beginning to thicken around his fists. Jason stood opposite him, the quiet density of the fifth layer and the residual dragon-line refinement settled deep in his bones, the pathways for both Phantom Kick and Invisible Iron Fist waiting just beneath the skin. The elder's hand rose, held for a heartbeat, and began to fall.
The semi-final was about to begin.