The Traditional Medicine Association''s grand hall stood before me, its imposing marble columns and ornate oak doors designed to intimidate outsiders. I pushed through with Elder Foster at my side, his weathered face tight with anticipation. Inside, doctors and medical practitioners milled about in expensive robes, their conversations dropping to whispers as we entered.


    "Look who finally decided to show up," a voice called out.


    Desmond Davenport stood at the center of the room, surrounded by a circle of elders who parted like a curtain to reveal his smug face. His expensive silk robes rustled as he approached us, each step deliberate and measured.


    "Liam Knight," he announced loudly, making sure everyone could hear. "Come to waste everyone''s time?"


    I met his gaze evenly. "Actually, I''m here topete in the finals."


    My statement hung in the air for a moment beforeughter erupted around the room. Desmond''s face broke into a condescending smile.


    "The finals?" he repeated, his voice dripping with mock surprise. "My dear boy, you seem confused. Thepetition begins with preliminary rounds, which you would know if you belonged here."


    I shrugged. "I have direct entry to the finals."


    Theughter grew louder. An older man with a long white beard stepped forward, his Traditional Medicine Association badge identifying him as Elder Chen.


    "Young man," he said, not unkindly, "such arrangements require Presidential approval. That would be Dr. Davenport here."


    Desmond''s smile widened. "And I can assure you, I''ve approved no such thing."


    I didn''t argue. Instead, I simply found a bench along the wall and sat down. Elder Foster took the seat beside me, concern etched on his face.


    "Liam," he whispered, "perhaps we should—"


    "Wait," I said quietly. "Just wait."


    Hours passed. The sunlight streaming through the tall windows shifted from morning gold to afternoon amber. Participants came and went, shooting curious nces in our direction. Desmond made a point of walking past us several times, each pass apanied by a smirk or a snidement.


    As evening approached and the light outside began to fade, Desmond finally made his move. He strode over, nked by several association elders.


    "It seems your guarantee hasn''t materialized," he said loudly enough for everyone to hear. "Perhaps it was just another of your fabrications?"


    I stretched my arms above my head, rxed despite the mounting tension. "The day isn''t over yet."


    His eyes narrowed. "Do you take us for fools? I am the President of this association. Nothing happens here without my knowledge or approval." <kbd ss="phantom-imprint">A*lwa#ys re$a%d from the sourc.e.:* M&|V&|*LE4%MPYR!.</kbd>


    "And yet," I replied, "here I am."


    Desmond''s face flushed with anger. "You''re nothing! A nobody who thinks he can waltz in and—"


    "A nobody who exposed your medical malpractice," I cut in. "A nobody who treated patients you imed were beyond help. Is that what bothers you, Dr. Davenport? That this nobody might make you look like an even bigger fraud than you already are?"


    The elders behind him shifted ufortably. Desmond took a step closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.


    "You have no idea who you''re dealing with. I have connections across every walk of life in this city. When I''m done with you—"


    The massive oak doors swung open.


    Every head turned as Den Steele walked in, his presencemanding immediate attention. His tailored suit contrasted sharply with the traditional robes worn by everyone else, yet somehow made them all look underdressed.


    "Mr. Steele," Desmond stammered, quicklyposing himself. "This is an unexpected honor."


    Den barely acknowledged him, his eyes scanning the room until they found me. He strode directly over, ignoring the whispers that followed him.


    "Liam," he said with a nod. "I apologize for the dy."


    I stood and shook his hand. "No problem at all."


    Desmond''s confusion was palpable as he hurried over. "Mr. Steele, I wasn''t aware you had business with... this individual."


    Den reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew an official-looking document bearing the seal of the Ministry of Commerce. He handed it to Desmond without ceremony.


    "This is confirmation of Mr. Knight''s direct entry to the finals of the Traditional Medicine Conference," Den stated tly. "As the primary sponsor of this event, the Ministry of Commerce reserves the right to nominate one candidate of exceptional merit to bypass the preliminaries. We''ve chosen Liam Knight."


    The room fell silent as Desmond frantically scanned the document, his fingers trembling slightly.


    "This... this is highly irregr," he protested. "The Association has protocols—"


    "The Association epted our sponsorship terms," Den interrupted. "Those terms included this provision. Your signature is on the agreement, Dr. Davenport."


    Desmond''s face paled as he continued reading. The document was legitimate, and he knew it. I could almost see the calctions running behind his eyes as he searched for any way to reverse this situation.


    "Is there a problem, Dr. Davenport?" Den asked, his tone making it clear there better not be.


    After a painful silence, Desmond forced a smile. "No problem at all. We wee Mr. Knight''s... participation."


    Den nodded curtly and turned back to me. "All the arrangements have been made. The finals begin tomorrow at nine." He lowered his voice. "Make it count, Liam."


    "I will," I promised.


    With a final nod, Den turned and left, leaving behind a room thick with tension and whispers. Desmond stood frozen, the document crumpled slightly in his white-knuckled grip.


    I approached him slowly, keeping my voice low enough that only he could hear. "You know what the difference is between us, Desmond? I earn my opportunities. You just collect them like party favors."


    His eyes shed with hatred. "This means nothing. You''ll still lose tomorrow. And when you do, I''ll make sure everyone knows what a fraud you really are."


    I smiled. "I look forward to it."


    As Elder Foster and I walked out, I could feel Desmond''s re burning into my back. The man''s humiliation would only make him more dangerous, but I couldn''t bring myself to care. Some people needed to learn their lessons the hard way.


    Back at my apartment that night, I sat cross-legged on the floor, my mind running through countless ancient forms. The knowledge that flowed through me was vast—secrets of traditional medicine that would shock the world if revealed all at once. Cultivation methods from ages past, techniques forgotten by time, remedies for ailments modern medicine deemed incurable.


    For tomorrow''spetition, I needed something impressive but not world-shattering. Something that would win decisively without revealing the full extent of my abilities.


    After careful consideration, I finally settled on a single form—a Pill that would guarantee victory without exposing too many of my secrets. I smiled to myself in the darkness. The Traditional Medicine Association had no idea what wasing.


    Tomorrow, they would begin to understand exactly who they were dealing with.