The Retired Young Mercenary Is Secretly a Billionaire-Chapter 63: Martial Succession Contest!!

The morning sun spilled golden light across the tiled courtyard, casting long shadows that danced across the walls as the breeze stirred the banners bearing ancient clan symbols.

At the breakfast table, Asher bounced on his seat. "Big brooo, what are we doing today?"

Hope leaned in, eyes wide with curiosity. "Yeah, what’s the plan?"

Miles sipped his tea and smirked slightly. "Do you want to see a martial arts contest?"

"Yes!" they both shouted in unison, their excited nods so animated that Elena and Daniel couldn’t help but laugh.

Daniel raised an eyebrow. "Is there a contest today?"

Miles nodded. "It happens once every five years. And we’re right on time."

Elena smiled as she cut a piece of fruit. "Then we arrived at the perfect moment."

Hope’s eyes lit up. "Big brooo, are you gonna fight?!"

Miles gave a mysterious grin. "You’ll see."

As breakfast wrapped up, a calm knock came at the front door. A disciple of the clan stepped in respectfully and bowed. "Young Master, the contest is starting soon. The elders are expecting you. Your family is invited as honored guests—seating has been arranged for them."

Miles stood, brushing down his clothes. "Thank you."

The disciple bowed again and left as silently as he came.

Miles turned to his family. "Alright, the elders are calling. Someone will come to guide you. I’ll see you there."

"We’ll be right behind you," Elena said warmly.

With a nod, Miles walked out into the morning light.

The fighting grounds lay beyond a stretch of stone path nestled into the sloping heart of the mountain. The structure was a blend of raw tradition and martial prestige. At the center sat a wide open-air arena, paved with circular gray stone, its edges marked by carved dragon and phoenix motifs. A waist-high wall separated the fighting court from the surrounding stadium tiers, where the audience was slowly filtering in.

Above the arena loomed a raised dais — five ornate chairs placed evenly before an arched stone frame etched with the insignias of the Five Ancient Clans. Behind them, the high seats of the elders overlooked the court like a silent council of timeworn sages.

The elders were already seated, their flowing robes catching the mountain breeze, each face solemn with the weight of history. Clarissa’s father, the ex-patriarch, sat in the center — eyes sharp and calculating.

Miles entered quietly, greeted the elders with a respectful bow. "I greet the council."

"Good luck, boy," said one of the elders with a rare smile.

Miles nodded, descending into the center court and taking his seat near the fighters’ enclosure — a space reserved for the champions of each clan.

The crowd was lively now. The sound of conversations, distant drums, and ceremonial flutes echoed across the air. The banners of the Five Clans fluttered in harmony, colors blending like threads of ancient legacy.

Soon, another group entered the seating area near the center. Elena, Daniel, Hope, and Asher were escorted with care by two disciples. The twins’ eyes darted everywhere in amazement — the statues, the fighters, the sweeping mountainous horizon beyond the court.

"It’s so cool," Asher whispered.

Daniel looked around. "This is more than a contest... it’s a tradition."

Elena simply smiled, proud and calm, her eyes already scanning the grounds for her son.

Then, the host of the event stepped forward onto a small platform, dressed in the ceremonial garb of a neutral officiator. He raised the microphone.

"Welcome, warriors, clansmen, and honored guests—" his voice rang out across the court as the final echoes of conversation died down. "—to the Grand Martial Succession Contest. Held once every five years, to decide not only honor, but the supremacy of our traditions and the future of our Five Clans."

A roar of applause followed.

The contest was about to begin.

The host stepped forward once more, his voice steady and reverent as he lifted his hand toward the central dais where the five grand seats stood beneath the ancient stone arch.

"Now... let us welcome the leaders of the Five Great Clans — the protectors of our traditions, and the torchbearers of martial legacy!"

The audience quieted. The air itself seemed to grow heavy with anticipation.

A ceremonial drum boomed once.

"From the East, the roaring thunder of the mountains — please welcome Raiden Jin, Leader of the Raijū Clan!"

A tall, stern man with spiked gray hair and a sleeveless ceremonial robe stepped out, lightning tattoos winding down both arms. He bowed slightly and took his seat, his gaze sharp and stormy.

Another drumbeat.

"From the floating forests of the South Winds — the graceful blades of the sky — Lady Sora Mizuhane, Leader of the Sylph Clan!"

A poised, elegant woman draped in flowing pale green robes floated down the path with near-weightless steps. Her long silver hair swayed like silk threads, eyes calm like still air. She bowed with grace and took her seat.

The third beat echoed.

"From the Northern depths, where shadows and tides collide — Master Kael Vorn, Leader of the Kraken Clan!"

A broad-shouldered man with deep ocean eyes and intricate wave-carved armor strode to his seat. He offered no bow — only a subtle nod, the weight of his presence pressing on the crowd like a rising tide.

The fourth beat thundered.

"From the flames of rebirth, in the heart of the ancient mountain — Clarissa Rael , Leader of the Phoenix Clan!"

Cheers erupted from the home crowd. Clarissa, poised and radiant in a crimson and gold robe, stepped forward from her place in the stands and ascended the steps to her seat, nodding at the elders before sitting with composed authority.

And then — a pause.

The wind seemed to still.

The fifth drumbeat rang — deeper, colder.

"And finally... from the glacial highlands of the North, the clan who holds the title of supremacy — Lady Freyja Valecia, Leader of the Snow Women Clan... and our current Clan Supreme!"

A wave of white-cloaked guards moved ahead, parting to reveal a striking woman draped in layers of frost-blue robes. Her long white hair shimmered like moonlight on snow, and a faint mist seemed to follow her every step. Her pale eyes held the chill of ancient winters.

The audience rose in unison and bowed.

A thunderous round of applause followed — not of joy, but of awe and respect.

The Five Clan Leaders had assembled.

Host (voice amplified across the arena):"Honored Elders, noble clans, and guests from far and wide—welcome to the Five Clan Succession Contest!"

Applause echoes throughout the stone stadium carved into the mountain face. The banners of each ancient clan flutter above, and below, five reserved seats await the clan leaders.

Host continues, stepping to the center of the arena:"Once every five years, the strongest martial artist from each of the Five Ancient Clans is chosen to represent their legacy in combat. Not for fame. Not for fortune. But for the right to lead all Five Clans as the Clan Supreme."

He gestures toward the large ceremonial scroll now unfurling behind him.

Each clan may send only one challenger.The format is single-elimination.The previous winner, the Snow Women Clan, receives a first-round bye.Fights are hand-to-hand . No weaponsVictory is by submission, knockout, or ring-out.

The crowd sits in focused silence.

Host raises a hand:"Now... I present to you the champions of this era—our Five Clan Challengers."

Representing the Kraken Clan –A massive, sea-hardened man with slicked-back dark hair and sharp, green eyes steps into the circle."Kael Driton."His deep voice echoes as he bows, ocean-blue robes rippling with his movement.

Representing the Sylph Clan –A poised, athletic woman with icy focus and a silver-bladed gaze walks forward with her braid coiled tight."Sylra Vey."She doesn’t bow. She simply clasps her fists and gives a sharp nod.

Representing the Raijū Clan –A cocky, grinning youth with crackling tension in every movement bounces into the ring."Riku Tanzai."He throws a casual salute at the elders, lightning-shaped scars glinting on his arms.

Representing the Snow Women Clan –A calm, elegant woman wearing layered white and lavender robes gracefully walks forward. Her pale hair is tied in a complex braid adorned with frost-blue pins."Sayaka Nozomi."She bows deeply, crystal-clear eyes scanning the crowd with composed serenity.

The audience bows out of respect for her clan’s supremacy.

And finally... representing the Phoenix Clan –The host’s voice gains a new weight."...their Young Master"He gestures grandly."Miles Sterling"

Miles steps forward.

His red-black robes flutter as he walks with quiet resolve, no theatrics—just presence.He bows respectfully toward the elders and gives a subtle nod to Clarissa, seated among the leaders.

Whispers swirl around the stands:

"Who is he?""He’s not from the clans...""Sterling... isn’t he from the outside world?""Why does the Phoenix Clan trust him?"

"...or maybe, he’s stronger than we think."

The tension rises.

In the elevated guest section, Elena gasped softly, her hand instinctively going to her chest."That’s my son..." she whispered, her voice trembling with a blend of awe, pride, and disbelief.

Daniel leaned forward, stunned. "He wasn’t joking... he’s actually fighting?"

Hope jumped out of her seat. "Big broooo!! That’s our big brooo!!"

Asher, eyes wide and sparkling, shouted loud enough for half the audience to hear, "Go big broooo! Knock them out!"

Nearby disciples turned, chuckling softly at the twins’ enthusiastic cheering.

Elena blinked , trying to compose herself. "He... he didn’t even tell us he was the challenger..."

Daniel placed a calming hand over hers. "He didn’t need to, Elena. Look at him. He belongs out there."

Hope and Asher both cupped their hands around their mouths, chanting:"Let’s go big bro! Let’s go!"

Host steps forward again:"These five warriors will decide the fate of our era. Let their fists speak for their clans."

A sharp gong echoes.

"The draw will now commence."

The host with a ceremonial scroll in his hands. With a deep breath, he unfurled the scroll and raised his voice for all to hear:

"According to tradition, the reigning champion clan — the Snow Women Clan — shall receive a bye and advance directly to the semi-final round."

A respectful wave of murmurs passed through the crowd as everyone nodded in understanding.

"Now, by draw and elder council agreement, the first-round matchups are as follows—!"

Round One:

Match 1:Kano Raijin – Raijū Clan vsSora Veylen – Sylph Clan

Match 2:Kaien Rensu – Kraken Clan vsMiles – Phoenix Clan

In the audience, Hope grabbed Asher’s arm excitedly. "Big bro is fighting in the second match!"

Clarissa smirked beside the elders, arms crossed. "Kaien won’t know what hit him."

Miles remained still in his seat, gaze forward — calm, sharp, unshaken.

The crowd quieted as the Clan Supreme from the Snow Women Clan rose from her high seat at the center podium. Draped in regal robes of silver and frost-blue, her aura was composed yet commanding. Taking the mic in hand, her voice rang out—calm, firm, and laced with age-old authority.

"For centuries, the Five Clans have stood as the pillars of martial tradition. In every generation, strength must not only be inherited—but proven. This contest is not merely about power. It is about discipline, legacy, and honor."

She looked over each of the five challengers seated below the grand platform.

"To the brave souls who enter the arena today—represent your clans with pride. Win or lose, let the fire of our ancestors guide your fists and your hearts."

Her gaze settled briefly on Miles—sharp and knowing.

"As the reigning Clan Supreme, I hereby declare the Martial Succession Contest... officially begun."

The crowd erupted into cheers. Flags of all five clans fluttered in the wind.

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