The morning sun rose over Shang City, casting golden rays on the towering gates of the Shang Academy. Zhen Zenin stood among the thousands of hopefuls waiting for their final qualification results. Whispers followed him now—not as a disgrace, but as a rising star.
"Isn't that Zhen Zenin? The one who aced the formation test?"
"I heard he defeated a peak Qi Gathering cultivator with just one strike!"
Zenin ignored them.
His white robe fluttered slightly in the breeze. His expression remained indifferent, but his senses were sharp—every heartbeat, every whisper, every Qi fluctuation around him was noted. The instincts of a ruler never died.
---
In the crowd, hidden among the students, a cloaked man watched Zenin carefully.
A low voice spoke through a jade talisman:
> "The boy has talent… Should we act now?"
Lady Zhen's voice replied coldly,
> "No. Let him reach higher. The higher he climbs, the deeper the fall."
---
Later that day, the academy announced the names of the top 100 qualifiers. Zhen Zenin stood at Rank 3.
The crowd burst into chaos.
"How can a trash-born from the Zhen Clan rank so high?!"
Even the instructors seemed stunned. But Zenin simply bowed and walked away, his gaze sweeping over the elders and instructors—not with arrogance, but cold calculation.
> "I will rise not because I seek glory, but because vengeance demands a throne."
---
That night in the Zhen Clan, Lady Zhen smashed a porcelain vase.
"How?! Who is backing him?!" she screamed.
Zhen Yun stood in the doorway, her fists clenched.
"I want him gone," she whispered.
Lady Zhen turned to her daughter. "Then be patient. His fall will come—not by force, but by trust."
---