A month had flown by, and the Shadoway clan held its usual resource distribution day. But today, an electric buzz filled the air. It wasn't just the Ironhard Draught that fueled the excitement; it was also the highly anticipated gambling duel between Snow and Larry.

  Almost all the Shadoway children packed the martial arts field, eager to witness the showdown. Rumors swirled about the outcome. Would Snow crumble beneath Larry's first attack, or would his defiance lead to a prolonged, excruciating death? The children of the Shadoway family were secretly looking forward to it.

  Meanwhile, oblivious to the brewing spectacle, Snow emerged from the body-tempering chamber, a satisfied grin splitting his face. "Seventh level already!" he declared, clenching his fist and reveling in the surge of power coursing through him. Finally, he could begin using the Essence of the Earth. However, today's gambling battle with Larry demanded his immediate attention.

  The Shadoway family boasted over a thousand members, and over three hundred young disciples filled the martial arts field. A cacophony of voices filled the air with speculations about Snow's ability to withstand Larry's attacks and grim predictions of his demise.

  "Look! Larry's here!" A collective gasp rippled through the crowd as Larry entered the arena, his entourage surrounding him like a swarm of admirers. Clad in a sleeveless training uniform, his muscles bulged, promising explosive power.

  "By the One, look at those muscles! They hold terrifyin' strength!" someone exclaimed. Discussions erupted, fueled by rumors of Larry's devastating punch.

  The crowd buzzed with disbelief. "How can Snow possibly compete?" they scoffed. "Even if he done somehow jumped to the eighth level, he'd still be toast against Larry!"

  "Aside from Drew and a couple o' them ninth-level fellas, ain't nobody in the family got the guts to face Larry."

  Amidst the fervent chatter about Larry, a hush fell as Snow stepped into the arena. Unlike Larry's grand entrance, he was accompanied only by Zoe and Dreamy. The crowd recoiled, treating him like a plague carrier.

  Larry smirked - the trash had shown up. A woman named Cherry, another Shadoway descendant with a troubled past, stood behind him. Cherry and Snow were once close, even nursing childhood feelings for each other. Yet, Snow's decline in status as a student of magic shattered their bond. While outwardly friendly, Cherry harbored secret ambitions. The day Snow confessed his affections, she brutally humiliated him, a scene witnessed by many of their peers.

  Cherry's calculated actions secured Larry's favor and boosted her standing within the family.

  Snow held no illusions about Cherry anymore. Elijah's memories and experiences had molded him into a different person, one devoid of romantic attachments for the manipulative Cherry. Now, facing Larry, Snow stood strong, his resolve hardening with each passing moment.

  Cherry, by Larry's side, watched Snow with a smug grin. She congratulated herself silently for avoiding any fallout from Snow's potential demise. In her eyes, Snow, a perennial loser, wasn't even worthy of her scorn. Meanwhile, Larry, basking in the crowd's adoration, flaunted his muscles, further fueling the cheers.

  Snow offered a reassuring nod to Zoe and Dreamy before calmly walking onto the stage. The Shadoway children mostly regarded Snow with disdain. He was a notorious loser, unable to defeat even the weakest members of the family. How could he possibly stand a chance against Larry?

  Several women gathered around Zoe, one of them overweight and seemingly concerned. "Zoe, darlin', listen to me." she sounded earnest, "Snow's young and headstrong, but this ain't no game. He's outta his league with Larry. You gotta pull him off that stage, beg Larry's pardon, and give up the goods. Might be the only way to save his hide."

  "We've seen Snow grow up, bless his heart," another woman chimed in, her voice dripping with faux concern, "He's always been a sweet boy, but bless his heart, he ain't the sharpest tool in the shed. It'd be a real shame if he kicked the bucket here today."

  Dreamy's nose wrinkled up like she'd smelled something sour. "Keep your noses outta our family business!" she retorted. "Y'all got no idea what my brother's capable of. Just wait and see him make Larry eat dirt!"

  Everyone expected Snow's defeat, except Dreamy, who was privy to his true strength. In her mind, even if Larry had broken through to the ninth level of Forging stage, he wouldn't be a match for her brother.

  The heavyset woman gasped, her hand clutchin' her chest. "The gall of this girl! Don't you know how to speak to your betters?"

  Another woman chimed in, her voice sharp as a whip. "Zoe, you best rein in that young'un of yours! Ain't no excuse for her talkin' to her elders like that, it's downright disrespectful."

  Zoe, despite her own worries, found strength in Snow's confident stride. She shot a glare at the gossiping women. "Thanks for your 'concern'," her voice dripping with sarcasm, "But Dreamy's right, this is our family business. Respect ain't somethin' you get just 'cause you're older. You gotta earn it. And Dreamy? She's got more sense than most folks twice her age. She knows who's got her respect, and who don't."

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  The women bristled at her words. "Just you wait and see what happens to that little brat!" one of them threatened.

  Zoe raised an eyebrow. "Watch your tongue! Curse my Snow again, and you'll regret it!"

  The women, surprised by Zoe's sudden fierceness, were momentarily speechless. By the time they formulated a retort, the opportunity had passed. Forced to swallow their pride, one of them muttered, "We'll just see about that."

  Snow arrived on the stage, seemingly unnoticed by Larry, who continued to flaunt his muscles.

  The stage bristled with training tools for the Shadoway children. A massive drum stood out, used to test their raw strength. Each punch against it unleashed a booming response, a sonic testament to a fighter's strength. One boom for a thousand pounds, two for two thousand, a symphony of power waiting to be unleashed.

  Larry's smirk finally flickered towards Snow, a cruel amusement dancing in his eyes. He unleashed a powerful punch on the instrument, generating a resounding sequence of eight sounds, indicating a force of eight thousand pounds. The crowd, familiar with Larry's prowess, held their breath in anticipation.

  Another drumbeat echoed - nine times!

  "Nine thousand pounds? Did Larry bust through to the ninth level?" someone exclaimed. Such strength placed him among the top ranks of the younger generation in the Shadoway family.

  A moment later, a softer beat resonated, yet still indicated a force close to ten thousand pounds!

  A collective gasp swept through the audience. Whispers of "breakthrough?" fizzed through the air. Larry, ever the prodigy, pushed the boundaries of the eighth level. This display of raw power was phenomenal, even more impressive if he hadn't achieved his ninth-level breakthrough. With such feats, he solidified his status as a family genius.

  On a raised platform near the stage, a group of elders sat bathed in the afternoon sun. Witnessing Larry's near-ten-thousand-pound punch, Silas, the Fourth Elder, thumped his staff on the ground, a wide grin splitting his face. Leaning towards him, Ezra, the First Elder, inquired with a hint of amusement in his voice, "Has young Larry finally busted through to the ninth level, my friend?"

  "Not quite yet, brother," Silas replied, his voice respectful, but with a twinkle of pride. "He's chosen to solidify his foundation 'fore movin' on up." The unspoken boast hung heavy in the air - Larry could reach the ninth level whenever he darn well pleased.

  Ezra chuckled, a sound both amused and a tad competitive. His gaze flicked towards the Second Elder before settling back on Silas. "Indeed, quite the prodigy, our Larry. Pushin' near ten thousand pounds of fist power before even reachin' the ninth level. Mighty impressive." He knew his words were a jab, a not-so-subtle reminder that the Second Elder's son, Drew, had only managed a little over nine thousand pounds at the same stage.

  The Second Elder, Caleb, bristled, a scoff escaping his lips. "Hmph, brute strength ain't nothin' compared to true talent," he countered, his voice tight with barely concealed anger. "The Aer Weaver's Realm's the real test. Some folks get ahead of themselves, wouldn't you say?" His words were sharp as a knife, a clear challenge to Ezra's gloating.

  In the center of the raised platform, sat Cedric, the Chieftain. Recently emerged from a successful seclusion, he observed the tense exchanges between the Elders with a hint of amusement playing on his lips. The power struggle between First and Second Elders was no secret to him.

  "A little bit of friendly rivalry keeps folks sharp," he murmured to himself, his face etched with the wisdom of years. "But too much ambition can tear apart the very things we're tryin' to build." Cedric knew the delicate dance of managing a vast clan. Resources and competition were tools, yes, but they needed a firm hand to wield them effectively. It was a burden he shouldered willingly, the weight a constant reminder of the responsibility he held for his people.

  On the stage, Larry held his head high, radiating arrogance. He extended a hand, beckoning Snow to test his strength.

  Snow remained motionless. Displaying his power felt pointless - a mere spectacle.

  "Yellow-bellied coward!" someone jeered, mistaking Snow's calm for fear. "He ain't got the guts to even try hittin' that drum against Larry."

  "Ain't that the truth. If I could only muster up a measly three, four thousand pounds, I'd be hightailin' it outta there faster than a jackrabbit."

  Larry's disdain intensified. Snow's initial gamble's audacity had earned Larry's grudging respect. This unexpected reserve, however, threw him off guard.

  Suddenly, a middle-aged man leaped onto the stage, silencing the crowd. "Today's gambling battle between Larry and Snow Shadoway decrees that the loser surrenders monthly resources. Within the competition stage, life and death are of no consequence. Clan rules stipulate that no interference is allowed until a participant concedes or dies! The outcome of this battle will be witnessed by the Chieftain and the elders!"

  His voice boomed, "Let the competition begin!"

  Larry remained rooted in his spot, his disdainful gaze fixed on Snow. The prolonged silence prompted him to jeer, "Seems you ain't got the guts to admit defeat."

  A mischievous grin spread across Snow's face. "Why don't you concede first?"

  Larry's face twisted, a scowl replacing the sneer. "Real funny, pal. But the time for talkin's over."

  "Crush him, Master Larry!" A voice from the crowd - probably River, the guy with the busted legs - howled with savage glee.

  Larry looked at River and nodded slightly. He extended a single finger, then followed with a series of exaggerated cracks and pops as he rolled his neck and wrists. It was a clear message: a one-punch victory.

  Snow understood. Larry intended a swift, decisive blow.

  With a powerful kick that sent tremors through the ground, Larry launched himself towards Snow like a speeding arrow.

  "So fast!" gasps erupted from the audience.

  A savage smile twisted Larry's face, his eyes gleaming with cruelty as he unleashed a punch brimming with nearly ten thousand pounds of force.

  Zoe clutched her chest, anxiety gnawing at her. Even Dreamy, despite her unwavering trust in her brother's strength, couldn't help but feel a flicker of worry at the ferocity behind Larry's punch.

  "Ten thousand pounds? That weak?" Snow scoffed. Though he hadn't formally measured his strength, he knew it vastly surpassed that figure.

  Furthermore, Larry's speed, while impressive to ordinary disciples, was agonizingly slow in Snow's eyes. He didn't even want to use his full power. With a raised fist, he channeled the power of only the fifth level of Forging.

  A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. "He's not gonna dodge?"

  "Crazy! Even a level-nine warrior'd think twice 'bout takin' that hit!"

  "He's askin' for it!"

  Larry's sneer morphed into a triumphant grin as he saw Snow stand his ground. Misinterpreting his opponent's resolve as foolishness, Larry poured every ounce of power into his punch.

  "It's over," the Fourth Elder declared, a gloating smile plastered across his face.