Everyone froze after witnessing how quickly the match had ended.
Yang Luoya hadn't even moved from his original position.
Even the referee standing at the side forgot to announce the result, only snapping out of his daze a moment later before declaring the match over.
Yang Wei walked calmly toward Yang Luoya, as if nothing unusual had happened.
"I didn't even get to attack," Yang Luoya said.
"I didn't want big brother's hands to get dirty, so I finished it quickly," Yang Wei replied casually.
"Good job holding back and not cracking their skulls further," the Kirin commented.
Yang Luoya let out a quiet sigh. "Next time, let me help."
.
.
.
The following matches…
The results were no different.
The moment each match began, Yang Wei would dash forward and defeat every opponent decisively, never giving Yang Luoya the chance to step in.
Every time they won, Yang Luoya would scold Yang Wei for trying to handle everything alone. But Yang Wei never seemed to listen, always giving the same reason—he didn't want Yang Luoya to dirty his hands.
Eventually, after several rounds, Yang Luoya could only sigh and give up trying to control him.
As their opponents grew stronger, Yang Wei could no longer end the fights instantly like before. Even so, he still emerged victorious every time.
Because every match ended in the same way, the audience began whispering among themselves.
"That omega can't fight. He's just relying on his alpha to win."
Yang Luoya's brow twitched upon hearing that comment. He was annoyed, but too tired to respond.
While watching Yang Wei fight, he turned to the Kirin.
"Do I really look like a weak omega?" he asked.
The Kirin, who had been watching the match, turned to him.
"I think you've changed since returning from Yang Wei's coming-of-age ceremony… your skin looks clearer, and… you seem softer."
Since revealing his identity as an omega, Yang Luoya had stopped taking the medicine that once concealed his secondary gender.
"I see…" he murmured.
.
.
.
Suddenly, one of Yang Wei's opponents glanced toward Yang Luoya.
"That omega must be weak. I'll take him down first."
Without warning, the man dashed past Yang Wei and charged straight at Yang Luoya.
Yang Wei's eyes widened in shock. He tried to stop him, but his current opponent kept him occupied.
"Yang Luo, watch out!" the Kirin warned.
The man lunged forward, sword aimed directly at Yang Luoya.
The audience collectively held their breath, expecting Yang Luoya to be seriously injured.
But they were wrong.
Yang Luoya's expression turned cold.
He stepped aside, grabbed the man's arm, and effortlessly threw him out of the arena—as if the weight of a grown man meant nothing to him.
Once again, the crowd froze.
After finishing his own opponent, Yang Wei rushed over and grabbed Yang Luoya's hand.
"Big brother, are you alright? You're not hurt, right?" he asked anxiously.
Yang Luoya frowned slightly. Why was Yang Wei treating him like fragile glass?
"I'm fine."
.
.
.
Without realizing it, that had been the final match.
They had won the entire tournament.
The crowd erupted into applause and cheers.
Then suddenly, people began stepping aside, forming a path.
At the far end, a carriage appeared—its interior hidden behind drawn curtains.
A hand reached out and pulled the curtain aside.
From within, a young man stepped out.
He had sharp brows but a refined face. His expression made it clear he was not someone easily controlled.
He descended gracefully, yet his steps were firm. His long hair flowed behind him, stirred by the sea breeze.
A beauty mark beneath his right eye made him even more striking.
Whispers reached Yang Luoya's ears.
"That's the mayor…"
So this was the man they had been talking about.
He walked toward the arena and stopped right in front of them.
"Congratulations on winning the tournament. As promised, I will grant one wish as your reward—so long as it is reasonable and not dangerous."
His expression remained indifferent, almost arrogant.
Yang Wei's expression darkened slightly, clearly displeased.
Sensing this, Yang Luoya grabbed his hand briefly to calm him, then stepped forward.
"We would like to read the original manuscript of the thousand-year-old legend in the sealed room of the library," Yang Luoya said firmly.
The crowd fell silent.
No one had ever made such a request before. Most winners chose money or something beneficial.
The mayor's brows furrowed.
"That place is not open to outsiders, especially travelers who are not from this city."
"We've already won the tournament. Shouldn't you honor your promise? Or is there something you're hiding in that sealed room along with the manuscript?" Yang Wei suddenly interjected.
The mayor's expression darkened.
"You remind me of someone I dislike. Always speaking freely, acting as if they stand at the top of the world," he said coldly.
"So you're refusing to give the reward just because you're annoyed with me?" Yang Wei pressed further.
Yang Luoya placed a hand on Yang Wei's shoulder, signaling him to stop.
Not wanting to argue further, the mayor waved his hand.
A faint mark suddenly appeared on both Yang Luoya's and Yang Wei's hands.
"That mark will last for one day. During that time, you may enter the room without issue," he said.
"After that, it will disappear—and you will no longer be able to enter."
Without another word, he turned and returned to his carriage.
Yang Luoya stared at the faintly glowing mark on his hand.
"Ohh… that mark carries a mysterious power," the Kirin remarked.
.
.
.
Inside the carriage, the mayor leaned back in his seat.
From outside, a voice spoke.
"Mayor, you cannot leave yet. The burning ceremony will begin in a few hours."
He exhaled softly.
"I understand. Move the carriage somewhere quiet while we wait."
"Yes, Mayor."
"…The way that brat talks… just like that bastard Liu Yong."
.
.
.
The crowd slowly dispersed after the tournament ended.
Preparations for the evening's burning ceremony began—lanterns were hung, oil was poured, and vendors continued selling goods along the plaza.
Yang Luoya quickly grabbed Yang Wei's hand.
"Let's go. We don't have much time."
They hurried toward the library, with the Kirin flying closely behind.
When they entered, the librarian merely nodded, having already heard they had permission to access the top floor.
They climbed the stairs, their footsteps echoing along the narrow passage.
At last, they reached the door at the very top.
Yang Luoya grasped the handle and pushed it open.
.
.
.
The room was empty—antique, dusty, and silent.
Only a single book rested on a table in the center.
The moment he stepped inside, his legs felt heavy—likely the effect of the barrier surrounding the room. Even so, he forced himself forward.
Yang Wei, however, seemed completely unaffected.
"It feels really heavy," the Kirin muttered.
"How can you enter? You don't have the mark," Yang Luoya asked.
"Because I'm bound to you. If you can enter, so can I."
Yang Luoya let out a quiet breath and approached the book.
It was old—ancient, even. Its surface was darkened with age, covered in dust.
He gently touched it and opened it.
Each page was made from animal skin, some parts already damaged.
He began to read.
The first line written inside was—
[ I write this book because of the mistakes and regrets of my past. ]
[ 01-xx-xxxx ]
[ It all began in a field of flowers… where I first met him… ]
This… was a diary.