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Chapter 1144: A Stronger Person

Carmen Clover had been watching Roland for eleven minutes before he called his men over.

“What did you find?”

His aide kept his voice low, professional. “Ordinary family background. No record on the contest registry — he’s never entered a match. Joined the Association three months ago, which is unusual.” A pause. “He arrived with Garcia’s invitation card.”

Carmen processed this. He knew the martialist circuit well enough to understand what the absence of a contest record implied. New martialists were eager to compete — the rankings were the fastest path to visibility, sponsorship, income. The ones who refused to enter either had something to hide or considered themselves above the exercise. Amateurs, mostly. Former criminals who’d stumbled into an awakening and preferred to stay in the shadows.

He watched Roland stand near the edge of the dessert tables, apparently at ease, apparently watching nothing in particular, while the three young women he’d brought ate everything within reach. Garcia’s proxy. His sister didn’t trust easily. Whoever this man was, she’d decided he was worth something.

Carmen filed that away and was about to move on when he heard the voice from behind him.

“Thank you.”

He turned. Fei Yuhan was watching him with the faint, impersonal courtesy she extended to everyone who wasn’t wasting her time. She had arrived an hour ago and immediately become the gravitational center of the room — not through effort but through the simple physics of her presence. Her father had called it a good evening already, just from her attendance.

Carmen composed himself. “You heard?”

“I heard your man approach. I concentrated when he reached you.” She tilted her head, a minimal movement. “Lip-reading, mostly, at that distance. I fill in what the sound misses. Most martialists develop something like it, eventually.”

“I — I see.” He managed a smile. “You’re truly exceptional, Miss Fei.”

“The best?” She echoed his unspoken word with mild amusement. “I haven’t won the cup yet.”

“It’s only a matter of time. No one has reached the final match in their first year since—” He caught himself.

She listened to him finish anyway, politely, with the expression of someone who has been told this many times and has no strong feelings about it in either direction. When he reached the end of his sentence, she thanked him again and looked away.

Carmen felt the slight land like a door closing. Not unkind — she hadn’t been impolite, exactly — but absolute. She had wanted the information about Roland. She’d gotten it. The conversation was over.

He excused himself and moved off, jaw tight.


Fei Yuhan watched him go without interest.

She had known the conversation was finished before he had. Most people didn’t understand when they were talking to her versus talking near her. Carmen Clover was the kind of man who believed that patience and courtesy constituted engagement. They didn’t. They constituted courtesy. Engagement required her attention, and her attention was currently elsewhere.

It was on Roland.

She had noticed him within three minutes of his arrival — not because of anything he did, but because of what she couldn’t read.

Fei Yuhan had developed her ability to assess opponents gradually, across several years of the contest circuit and several years before that of watching fights she wasn’t allowed to enter. At a certain threshold of training, a martialist developed what her master called resonance — the capacity to sense the Force of Nature in others, to approximate their strength relative to your own. It wasn’t precise. It gave you a general impression the way weather gave you a general impression of the season.

She could read almost anyone she focused on. The exceptions were her master and two or three others she’d met at the highest levels of the Association.

She couldn’t read Roland.

Not because he was suppressing his Force of Nature — she would have felt the suppression. Because there was simply nothing there to read. He moved like an ordinary person, breathed like an ordinary person, held his champagne glass like someone who’d held a great many different kinds of vessels in his life and found this one unremarkable. His face showed exactly what she’d expect a man in his position to show: mild interest, mild calculation, a certain comfortable ease.

But the Force of Nature was invisible.

It wasn’t absent. She was sure of that much. You didn’t get a hunting license — she’d confirmed the news a week ago through her master — by being absent.

A newly awakened martialist. No contest record. Licensed within three months of joining the Association.

The conservative faction had been talking about a new kind of martialist for years: someone formed entirely through real combat rather than staged competition. Someone whose power had been tempered not by rules and point systems but by actual encounters with Fallen Evils. The theory was that this produced a fundamentally different fighter — harder to read because the markers were different, dangerous in ways that contest training didn’t prepare you for.

Most people in the new faction considered this a romanticization. Fei Yuhan had never quite decided.

Roland, apparently, was the test case.

She watched him navigate toward the front of the hall, moving through the crowd without friction — not invisibly, not assertively, just through — and felt something sharpen inside her.

He’s going to talk to Garde Clover. She tracked the angle of his approach, the positioning of his body relative to the host. This wasn’t an accident, his being here. He wants something and he came prepared to ask for it.

The three young women he’d brought were still at the dessert table, apparently competing to see how much they could eat. She heard a fragment of their conversation float through the hall noise.

”— the Dream World—”

”— His Majesty—”

She filed it. An unusual phrasing. Not the language of fans, not the shorthand of an inside joke. Something else. She’d ask him directly, she decided — if he turned out to be what she suspected he was.

The question she actually wanted answered was simpler and older than any of that.

Which is stronger — a fighter made by competition, or a fighter made by war?

She had been forbidden to hunt Fallen Evils directly. Her master’s order, absolute and non-negotiable. She had respected it for three years without fully understanding it.

But if old-school martialists were genuinely different — if the thing that hunting built in a person was real and not mythology — then she should know. Not from theory. From proximity, from combat, from the only test that actually mattered.

Fei Yuhan watched Roland reach the front of the hall and intercept Garde Clover between toasts.

Interesting, she thought. He had done that efficiently. Confidently. Without the hesitation of a man intimidated by money or position.

She uncurled her right hand slowly, deliberately, and let it relax.

The party had become more interesting than she’d expected it to be.

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