The moonlight bathed Shang City in cold silver. Within the Zhen Clan estate, Zhen Zenin stood silently on the roof of his courtyard, gazing at the vast sky. Since the academy exam, whispers of his brilliance had spread like wildfire. His once lowly name was now uttered with awe—and envy.
But power invited shadows.
Back inside, Lady Zhen sat in her private chambers. Her fingers trembled slightly as she read a report from the academy.
> "Zhen Zenin—highest scorer in the written test. Demonstrated mastery of ancient combat formations."
Her expression was unreadable. "Too fast… He was nothing just days ago," she muttered. "If he continues like this, Yun'er will be cast aside. I won't allow it."
She poured tea with trembling hands, the porcelain cup cracking slightly in her grip.
---
Meanwhile, Zenin focused on his cultivation, unaware—or perhaps only pretending not to be aware—of the cold stares following him.
His Qi had begun to swirl more smoothly. The early Qi Gathering Realm had been stabilized, and he was already laying foundations for the mid-stage.
Each night, he sparred with himself in the garden, refining the silent killing techniques he once used as the Demonic Emperor.
> "Even in the halls of the righteous, betrayal grows like weeds."
He looked at his palm, flexing it.
"Lady Zhen," he murmured quietly, "I wonder what face you'll wear… when you draw the knife."
---
That evening, Zhen Yun walked past his courtyard with narrowed eyes. Her cultivation had stagnated. The once pampered prodigy was now outshined by the brother she used to mock.
And she hated him for it.
---
Far from the attention of the clan, the wheels of fate began to turn quietly. For now, Zenin remained still… like a predator waiting for his prey to take one more step forward.
---