Strongest Family System

Once Robert finished speaking, the quiet settled in like a blanket, the only sound coming from the low hiss of burning oil in the lanterns.

Elder Delvin studied him, eyes narrowing with a mix of doubt and intrigue. "So, Robert," he said slowly, "you believe you can carry the clan to victory tomorrow?"

Robert did not flinch. A trace of a smile formed—subtle but sure. "I do. And the best part? I have not even shown all my cards yet."

Something in his tone made even the elder figures pause and reconsider.

Both Delvin and Sarah exchanged surprised glances, a hint of amusement flashing across their faces before Sarah let out a soft laugh. Delvin grinned; the competitive fire awakened in him. "We will see whose fortunes change once the competition ends," he replied, voice almost playful.

Robert offered a small bow. "In that case, Elder Delvin and Lady Sarah, I will take my leave now."

"We will talk again once the results are in." With that, he turned and strode out, each step deliberate and confident—a man preparing himself for whatever tomorrow might hold.

As the doors closed behind her, Sarah looked at Devlin, her brow furrowed in contemplation. "What do you make of his offer?"

Delvin's lips curled into a knowing half-smile as he leaned back in his chair. "We could gain a lot from this arrangement.

"Robert has remarkable abilities—there's a lot more to him than most people think. If I had to wager a guess, I would say someone is guiding him from behind the curtain, especially with those pills he is producing."

Sarah nodded in agreement. "I have had the same suspicion. He is too resourceful for his age." Her gaze drifted beyond the lamplight, as if weighing possibilities on tomorrow's battlefield.

"What will you do now?" Delvin asked quietly.

Sarah's answer was calm and cool, but her eyes gleamed with resolve. "We wait. "Should Robert come out on top tomorrow, he will have shown he is worthy of backing."

With that, the conversation faded into thoughtful silence. Outside the chamber, the night pressed close. Two elders waited, and in another part of the city, one young cultivator prepared for dawn—a day that would decide the fate of more than just a single clan.

After stepping out of the Grey Shadow Hall, Robert tugged his cloak close and slipped into the narrow, half-lit streets. The city was quiet, but he did not slow down. Had no idea what Sarah and Delvin were discussing behind closed doors. Their role was set—now he had to focus on his preparations.

Once he had slipped back into his room at the Osborn estate, Robert sat down heavily, tension still burning in his muscles. He thought through his situation: to truly win the competition, to tip the balance, he had to push himself even further. If he went all out right now, he might only force a draw with the James clan. That was not enough.

He opened up his system storage and found just four body tempering pills left.

Each one held the power to boost his cultivation, although only by a small margin. Every bit of strength matters now.

Robert dropped to the ground and crossed his legs. He closed his eyes and let out a slow breath, steadying himself. As he began the Scaled Body Core technique, his focus turned inward. MANA stirred, faint at first—then stronger—as the dragon's essence stirred to life inside him. It was not flashy. His muscles tightened, his bones ached with pressure, and a heavy warmth spread through his limbs. Something in him was hardening—quietly, steadily, without fanfare.

Bit by bit, the pain dulled. His wounds no longer felt separate—they seemed to pull together, healing faster than he expected. Strength returned slowly, pressing against the edges of what he thought he could endure.

Midway through the night, he swallowed two more pills. Waves of energy surged through him, every cell soaking it in. Time slipped by unnoticed as he sat in that deep state, setting every bit of the unfamiliar strength to his will.

By the time the first rays of dawn stretched across the sky, Robert awoke to a faint, powerful crackling sensation.

He had not quite broken through—but he approached at the point of level ten, closer than anyone had dared to dream. A quiet certainty settled in his chest.

He had put his doubts behind him. Now, he was ready to face Harden James—the mightiest villain the James clan could throw at him.

Robert tightened the belt around his waist and took one last look at the rising sun through his window. No more holding back. He was not here for a draw.

He stepped out, boots thudding softly against the stone floor. The compound was already stirring—guards passing by, a few servants whispering nearby. At the main hall, the clan leader stood waiting with elders. Robert nodded to them, silent but ready.

The four exchanged no words as they began their journey. The walk to the arena was not long, but it felt heavier than usual. No one spoke. They did not need to.

By the time they reached the arena, more people had gathered than on any previous day.

The crowd erupted with excitement—cheering, shouting, and tossing bets around like they were spare change.

The morning air still clung with the scent of wet blossoms and trampled grass. As the Osborn clan reached their section, they slid into their seats without a word, eyes scanning the crowd, watching for familiar faces… Or threats.

The sun had fully risen now, heat beginning to press down from above, long shadows cutting across the arena's worn floor.

The noise did not fade—it just changed form. Whispers became bold guesses, and a steady tension simmered underneath it all. Whispers about who would win, who might fall, and which clan was already counting their victory behind closed doors.

Then the James clan appeared.

Not marching, not showboating—but moving like they had already won. Heads high. Eyes sharp. There was an immediate reaction—cheers rang out, mixed with scattered jeers and anxious looks. They took their places across the field, not even sparing a glance at the Osborn side.

No words passed between them. They simply were not needed.

The final day had begun—and the weight of it pressed down on everyone.

The seats were overflowing—banners, chants, tense whispers. Every supporter was hoping today would be their clan's moment, although they did not dare say it out loud. The swelling noise of the crowd only added to the sense of occasion, as young and old alike argued and cheered their choices.

Scanning the arena, Robert caught sight of Sarah and Delvin seated in the VIP section.

Right then, Sarah and the elders noticed him. Their eyes connected over the arena, exchanging a silent understanding that seemed to span the space between them.

He offered a respectful nod; they acknowledged him in return, slight smiles hinting at the silent pact now woven into the day ahead.

Everything was in place. All that was left was to see how the day's battles would determine it.

The murmur of the crowd thinned as a robed elder stepped into the center of the ring. He raised a hand, waiting for silence.

"Let it begin," he said simply.

With that, the first two challengers stepped forward—no ceremony, no delay.

The final day had started.

The initial four duels were nothing short of intense, with clan pride and raw talent shining through. Each battle sparked cheers and gasps, as bruises and narrow wins contributed to the charged vibe in the air.

As the dust cleared, the scoreboard was even: two points for the Osborn clan and two for the James clan. The outcome now rests on the last match.

The crowd stilled when the elder raised his arms, silence spreading like a wave. Then came the announcement, sharp and final: "Everything comes down to this: Robert Osborn against Harden James."

The crowd exploded with noise. Cries rang out—some cheering for Robert, others for Harden—while the rest leaned in, holding their breath, eyes locked on the stage.

With measured footsteps, Robert made his way up the steps, composed and unwavering.

On the other side of the arena, Harden James made his entrance onto the stage, exuding an impressive presence—his very posture radiated strength and self-assurance.

"They met at the heart of the battleground. For a heartbeat, neither blinked, neither spoke."

The weight of their clans, their families, and the significance of everything that had happened before felt like a heavy burden surrounding them.

Cheers and tension rippled through the crowd, but in that ring, Robert only heard the sound of his steady breath and the distant echo of his father's words.

Sunlight speared through a gap in the clouds, casting its light on the final two—one match to decide it all.

Nothing more to say.

The outcome would speak for itself.