One hour had passed.
Though Ye Tian had given the shadow disciples two hours to prepare, their military-like discipline saw the task completed in half the time. The convoy stood ready, a testament to their efficiency.
Seated within his temporary quarters, Ye Tian scrolled through a jade slip. Assassination requests, bounties on the "Nightlord," news and rumors—the information streamed into his mind, his violet eyes cold and analytical.
The door opened. Lan Yuhua entered, a cup of spirit tea in her hands. "Here, some tea for you, to help you heal," she said softly, placing it on the desk. Her hand rested lightly on his shoulder.
His own hand came up, covering hers. "What is it?" he asked, his gaze still forward as if sensing another presence.
Yuhua blinked, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "I... what do you mean?"
A giggle came from the doorway. Xiuying peeked in, her untied black hair swaying. "Huhu, seems like we have some uninvited guests to meet you outside, Brother."
"Uninvited guests?" Ye Tian's voice was flat. "Who are they?"
Ling Feng entered, her white hair flowing. "People from the Ye Clan. Here to bask in whatever glory you have achieved."
"Bask?" Yuhua's gentle tone sharpened. "More like steal what they didn't earn."
A cold smirk touched Ye Tian's lips. "So here comes the bootlicker clan. Let's go."
As he moved to stand, a faint strain showed in his movement. From the shadows beside his chair, Zheng emerged, offering a steadying hand under his arm.
"Master—"
"Ha, thank you, kiddo," Ye Tian said, patting his shoulder. "Guess this trance thing will take some time to adjust." As he spoke, dark robes flowed from his spirit ring, weaving themselves over his bandaged torso. The clothes were all identical—premium black fabric with subtle silver lining.
Qingyao entered, a knowing smirk on her face. "Here comes the magic. I don't know how you do this magic-like thing."
"Benefits of having a system," Ye Tian replied casually. "You won't understand."
Xiuying just looked between them, utterly clueless.
They moved outside. The shadow disciples stood in perfect, silent ranks on both sides of the road, their presence alone controlling the gathering crowd. People stared, whispering, wondering who this bigshot was to command such an army.
Ye Tian emerged from the tavern doors, his ladies flanking him. He took a few steps ahead, his gaze landing on the two waiting figures.
"I was wondering who it was," he said, his voice cold. "And look who it is. You."
It was an elder from the Ye Clan—Ye Feng, father of Ye Qiu. Beside him stood Ye Qiu himself, a young man a few years older than Ye Tian, who had once bullied him for being the weakest of their generation.
Ye Feng put on a bootlicker's smile. "Young Master Tian! What an honor! You've become so... distinguished since we last met!"
Ye Qiu stepped forward, shame plain on his face. "Tian... it's... good to see you."
Xiuying's low voice cut through the air. "Look at them. Like starving dogs hoping for a handout."
Ye Tian's smile was pure sarcasm. "What a surprise. I thought you'd all forgotten I existed."
A few laughs rose from the crowd.
"So," Ye Tian's tone sharpened. "What brings you here today?"
Ye Feng puffed out his chest. "The clan wishes to honor you with the position of Academic Head! Equal in standing to an elder! And we'd be delighted if you'd merge your Night Hall with us. Think of the resources we could share!"
Ye Tian laughed—a short, sharp sound. "An academic position? You want to put me behind a desk while you take control of everything I've built?" His voice dropped to a razor's edge. "If you want my strength, make me Patriarch. Then we might have something to discuss."
The elder's face purpled. "You insult our generosity! We're only thinking of what's best for you! Don't you care about your own clan?"
"Clan to grow, you say?" Xiuying stepped forward, her voice ringing with fury. "You never cared about him! You barred him from studies, from training, from every banquet! You were terrified he'd show up your own useless children!"
The crowd erupted into angry murmurs.
The elder's face twisted. "Join us now, or the entire Ye Clan will stand against you!"
"So now it's threats?"
Ye Qiu tried to intervene. "Wait, that's not what—"
"Fine," Ye Tian cut him off, his voice cold as death. "Bring your entire clan. I've already crushed two factions—adding my own to the list means nothing. Mother left that den of snakes years ago, and Father... perhaps it's time he became the true leader."
"Treacherous worm!" the elder screamed. "We knew you'd be ungrateful! We've made other arrangements! Let's move!"
They turned and vanished into the crowd, fleeing like frightened rabbits.
Qingyao turned to Ye Tian. "What did he mean by 'arrangements'?"
"The beginning of their end," he replied calmly.
Feng'er's hand went to her sword. "What comes next?"
The answer came not in words, but in a sudden, sharp whistle through the air.
A hundred glinting daggers flew from the rooftops and alleyways, a deadly rain aimed at their hearts.
The crowd screamed and scattered.
But the shadow disciples were already moving. A synchronized blur of dark cloth and steel, their blades wove an impenetrable net, deflecting, catching, and shattering every single dagger before they could find their mark. The sound was a brief, violent music that ended as suddenly as it began.
In the ensuing silence, littered with broken steel, Ye Tian hadn't moved a muscle. He finally let out a soft, almost bored sigh.
"Here comes the cannon fodder."