Morning sunlight spilled across the courtyard stones as Maris entered, her steps soft and careful.
"Miss Serena," she said, bowing slightly. "Your monthly allowance. The steward sent it early this morning."
Serena looked up from her seat beneath the white plum tree. Dressed in her usual flowing white robes, her presence was like the wind—silent, untouchable, yet ever present.
She took the small silk pouch from Maris and nodded. "Thank you."
Inside were a few mid-grade wind stones, silver essence coins, and two basic recovery pills. A decent amount, considering she'd rejected her allowance for months.
Maris lingered, eyes curious.
Serena gave no room for questioning. With a small wave of her hand behind her back, she opened her system's inventory space, sliding the stones inside before dropping the empty pouch into her sash. She knew better than to let someone like Maris see elemental stones vanish unnaturally.
"I'll be heading to the arena now," she said.
Maris stepped back and bowed. "I'll have tea waiting when you return, my lady."
---
The courtyard was bustling. Servants moved crates, disciples stretched in preparation, and minor elders gathered at the arena edges to oversee the family's internal youth competition. This wasn't the city-wide contest yet—just Valen's own stage to select their top fighters.
Serena walked with measured grace, drawing glances. Not all were friendly.
She passed a cluster of disciples, all roughly her age. Taron, tall and smug-eyed, gave a light chuckle when he saw her.
"Well, the recluse walks among us. We must be honored."
Cenya, arms folded, didn't laugh, but her eyes swept over Serena's white robes with mild disdain. "She's still the first daughter. Or have you forgotten how hierarchy works?"
Renn smirked beside her. "Being first in name doesn't mean much when your cultivation speaks otherwise."
Serena paused before them. Her tone was even. "You're right, Renn. Cultivation speaks. So let's all listen when the battles begin."
Their smiles faltered.
Before anyone could retort, a deep horn echoed across the open field. Everyone turned as three younger disciples rushed to the center stage.
The opening performances had begun.
---
Two boys danced in a synchronized staff form, while a third girl summoned small plumes of flame in elegant patterns. It was meant to display harmony, family pride, and style—nothing too powerful, just enough to stir the crowd.
"Performances before blood," muttered Taron under his breath. "Tradition or waste of time?"
"Both," Serena replied quietly, eyes fixed on the stage. Her fingers tapped her knee, slow and steady.
The atmosphere shifted as each performance ended. The crowds clapped politely, but the undercurrent was clear: everyone was waiting for the real fights to begin.
And among the top twenty, both Serena and Alina would be facing far more than just opponents—they would face the weight of expectation, resentment, and secrets long buried.
---