"Who sent you?" he asked.
The man spat blood. "You… don't understand… the Pavilion has "
Before he could finish, a black sigil burned across his neck. His body convulsed and turned to ash.
Zihan exhaled softly. "Suicide seal. Predictable."
[System]: Mission Complete. Reward: Soul refinement . Host can refine and store souls of those weaker than him and refine them for cultivation. Additional Reward: 500 low-grade spirit stones, 1 chaos essence crystal.
Zihan: "At least that was worth the trouble."
[System]: You sound almost happy. Should I mark this date?"
Zihan closed his fan, walked to the window, and looked down at the quiet town below. Lanterns flickered, merchants snored, and life went on oblivious to the death that had just brushed its edge.
In the distance, the mountain peaks marking the Flame Sovereign's inner territory glowed faintly red under the moonlight. The real trials awaited him there.
[System]: Host, probability of further assassination attempts 78%.
Zihan: "Then let them come."
[System]: You enjoy this, don't you?"
Zihan: "No." His gaze hardened. "I'm simply tired of being hunted."
As dawn's first light began to pierce the clouds, Zihan sat back down in the blood socked room, his aura faintly trembling as he began absorbing the chaos crystal. Outside, Ruo jin watched the faint glow from his window, eyes narrowing.
And far away, in the depths of the Flame Sovereign's palace, a shadowed council met in secret speaking the same name that now stirred unease across the empire.
"Yue Zihan."
...
The capital of the Flame Sovereign's Domain rarely slept, but that night even its brightest towers felt a weight in the air. Lanterns still burned above the city's walls, but whispers had replaced laughter.
The failed assassination of a royal Yue Zihan, the son of King Yue was not something anyone dared treat lightly.
The report had spread faster than wildfire through the sects and noble families. Some called it rumor, others divine retribution, and a few dared to suggest that the Pavilion's shadow had moved again.
Inside the Imperial Council Hall, carved from obsidian and etched with ancient fire runes, tension simmered like molten iron beneath ice.
At the highest seat sat the Flame Sovereign, his crimson robes flowing like living fire. His face was calm, unreadable but his eyes burned with restrained fury. To his right sat Prime Minister Wen, lean and sharp-eyed; to his left, General Tai Rong, a man of massive stature whose aura filled the room like a thunderstorm.
"Three assassins dead," Wen said coldly, reading from a jade tablet. "One erased by a soul-binding seal before interrogation. The courtyard destroyed. Witnesses report… unusual red energy."
General Tai slammed his hand on the table. "And no guards arrived in time? In my capital?"
"Your men were patrolling the outer ring," Wen replied. "Someone rerouted the watch orders."
The Sovereign finally spoke, his voice low but heavy. "The Black Pavilion grows bold. But their target was not a noble… it was the Yue Prince himself. That means they seek to challenge both my throne and the alliance with Yue Kingdom."
Silence. The temperature in the room seemed to rise.
At the back of the hall, cloaked figures of sect envoys exchanged wary looks. Among them was Elder Hua, the Ice Lotus Sect's envoy and the saintess's master. Her eyes were half-closed, expression calm, but her mind was racing. First the tournament disturbance… now this. That boy attracts storms wherever he goes.
Then the Flame Sovereign turned to her. "Elder Hua. Your disciple, the Ice Lotus Saintess she was saved by Prince Yue during the first day's match, yes?"
Elder Hua inclined her head. "That is correct, your majesty."
"Then she is to remain under protection until the tournament ends. Whoever moves against him may move against her next."
Wen frowned. "That may cause… rumors, my lord."
The Sovereign's lips curved into something between a smile and a warning. "Then let them talk. Better rumors than corpses."
Meanwhile, in the outer chambers of the palace, the younger sect disciples were buzzing.
"Did you hear? The Yue Prince killed three assassins last night."
"Killed? No, he burned them to dust. My brother's friend swore he saw the ashes glowing gold!"
"Impossible. His cultivation's too low for that."
"Then how do you explain the hole in the courtyard wall?"
Among them, Chu Hanyun, the heir's older brother, clenched his fists. "So that's why the elders disappeared," he muttered. "They went chasing after shadows and got swallowed by them."
Beside him stood lan Xueyin, the saintess, her pale eyes unreadable. "The Pavilion… They've moved too soon. Someone is provoking a war."
"And Yue Zihan is at the center of it," Hanyun said darkly.
Far from the noise of the palace, in a secluded courtyard lit by a single paper lantern, Yue Zihan himself stood by a pond, feeding koi with one hand and flipping a jade coin with the other. His robes were unruffled, his expression serene but his mind was elsewhere.
[System]: The capital is in chaos, Host. Congratulations, you're now both a suspect and a hero. Quite the balance.
Zihan: "Balance keeps people guessing."
[System]: And guessing keeps you alive. Clever monkey."
He chuckled faintly, watching the ripples spread through the pond. "Let them talk. I'll investigate this my way."
[System]: Host intends to act alone again?"
Zihan: "Of course. If someone wants me dead, I want to look them in the eye before I return the favor."
As the moon sank behind the courtyard walls , Zihan turned toward the distant flames marking the Flame Sovereign's Grand Arena where the tournament would soon continue.
There, hidden among sect envoys and noble watchers, the true eyes of the Black Pavilion waited.
And Yue Zihan, the boy with the Primordial Chaos Body, smiled beneath the moonlight darkly elegant, quietly amused. "Let the game continue."
...
Morning light spilled through the cracked shutters of the new courtyard, painting the floor in soft gold. The air smelled faintly of wet wood and tea. The fourth day of the Flame Sovereign Tournament had come and Yue Zihan, the boy everyone now whispered about, sat quietly at the small table by his window, sipping from a cup that had long gone cold.
Outside, the capital was already stirring. Sect banners fluttered like a sea of color, disciples marched in formation, and merchants hawked trinkets carved with imitation runes. To the untrained eye, it was a festival. To those who could sense qi it was a battlefield wrapped in silk and smiles.
Zihan didn't bother to hide the faint hum of chaotic qi circulating within him anymore. His blindfold was tied neatly, his white hair glinting faintly in the light. He had grown sharper these past days his presence heavier, calmer, more controlled.
[System]: Day four, Host. Average excitement level: eighty-nine percent. Average hostility toward you: forty-two. Average jealousy unquantifiable.
Zihan: "You're starting to sound like a gossip spirit."
[System]: I simply provide useful metrics for survival. For instance: forty-two percent of the spectators want you to lose spectacularly."
Zihan: "Only forty-two? I must be losing my charm."
He stood, gathering his fan from the low table. The weapon pulsed faintly runic symbols glowing like distant stars. The last three days had given him no reason to fight seriously, but plenty of reasons to observe. He had seen the politics between sects, the posturing of the nobles, the masked operatives whispering in shadows.
And he had seen her Saintess Lan Xueyin. Serene, composed, every step surrounded by frost. She had not spoken to him since the first day, though her gaze occasionally lingered longer than it should.
He thought of that now, and smiled faintly. "She probably still thinks I'm some useless royal brat playing hero."
[System]: She's not entirely wrong, Host. You did ignore her when she nearly got killed yesterday."
Zihan: "Correction I ignored trouble that didn't concern me."
[System]: Yet you watched it happen."
Zihan: "Observation is not interference."
[System]: Sociopath logic detected."
Zihan: "Or efficiency."
A knock came at the door two sharp raps. Zihan's hand drifted toward his fan before he recognized the faint qi signature. "Enter."
The door slid open, revealing Han Qing, his companion and self-appointed voice of reason. The boy's blue robe was rumpled, his eyes bleary from lack of sleep. "You're still here? Everyone's already gone to the arena! Even the Saintess left an hour ago."
Zihan tilted his head. "Good. Less noise when I arrive."
Han Qing groaned. "You really plan to stroll in fashionably late again? They'll think you're mocking the Flame Sovereign himself!"
Zihan set down his teacup, adjusting his blindfold with deliberate calm. "Then I suppose I'll be punctual… in my own way."
[System]: Host, sarcasm levels optimal. Confidence, radiant. Chance of offending everyone one hundred percent.
Zihan: "Perfect."
He stepped out into the corridor, robes flowing behind him, every step unhurried. Ruo jin bowed deeply as he passed, whispering blessings under his breath. Something about the blindfolded youth's aura tranquil yet terrifying commanded stillness.