The audience hall of Lord Zhou roared with silence. It was a cavernous room, lined with pillars of black iron, designed to make anyone standing in the center feel insignificant.
Rian knelt on the cold stone floor, his forehead pressed against the ground. He had been holding this pose for ten minutes.
Above him, sitting on a dais wrapped in tiger furs, was Zhou Feng, the Lord of the House. The man radiated an aura of suppressed violence. He was a cultivator of the Blazing Sun sect, and the air around him shimmered with heat.
"Speak," Lord Zhou rumbled. His voice didn't sound like a father speaking to a son. It sounded like a judge addressing a criminal. "The Matriarch says you have a request. Make it quick. I have real sons to train."
Rian did not look up. He kept his posture perfect—the posture of absolute submission.
"Lord Father," Rian began, his voice trembling just the right amount. "I have come to beg for your mercy."
"Mercy?" Lord Zhou scoffed. "The Age of Coming is tomorrow. If you want mercy, fight well in the arena. If you win, you earn respect. If you lose, you earn scorn. That is the way of the Zhou."
"I cannot fight," Rian said.
The air in the room grew instantly hotter.
"What did you say?"
"I cannot fight," Rian repeated, louder this time, letting the desperation bleed into his tone. "I have… reflected on my capabilities. I am not like my brothers. I do not have their strength. I do not have their spirit. If I enter the arena tomorrow, I will only shame the family name."
Lord Zhou slammed his fist onto the armrest. CRACK. The wood splintered.
"You dare?" Zhou Feng stood up, his shadow looming over Rian. "You dare come to me, the day before the ceremony, and admit you are a coward? You are telling me you forfeit?"
"Yes, Father. I forfeit."
"You useless waste of blood!" Zhou Feng roared. The heat wave hit Rian, singing the ends of his hair. "I knew your mother was lowborn, but I thought she at least had a spine! You are no dragon. You are not even a dog. You are a cockroach, scurrying in the dark, afraid of the light!"
Rian's face was pressed to the floor, hidden from view. Asset valuation confirmed, Rian thought calmly. He sees me as a Liability. Good. Liabilities are discarded. That is the goal.
"I am a cockroach," Rian agreed, his voice thick with shame. "I admit it. I am afraid of pain. I am afraid of death. I am not worthy of the High Bloodlines."
"Then leave!" Zhou Feng shouted, waving his hand dismissively. "Get out of my sight! Go live in the mud with the commoners! You are no longer a Zhou!"
This was the pivot point. If Rian left now, he would be a commoner. No protection. No resources. Vulnerable to anyone who wanted to curry favor with the Matriarch by killing him. He needed the brand.
"Please, Father!" Rian cried out, finally raising his head. tears—forced, but convincing—streamed down his face. "Do not cast me out! Even a cockroach needs a wall to hide behind!"
"Why should I keep you?" Zhou Feng sneered. "You offer nothing."
"I offer service!" Rian scrambled forward on his knees. "I may not be a warrior, but I can read. I can count. I can manage supplies. Let me stay in the clan as a servant. Send me to the auxiliary branches. Send me to the mines, the farms, the furthest outposts! I will work until my hands bleed. Just… please let me keep the name. Let me serve the family that gave me life."
Lord Zhou paused. He looked at the groveling boy with disgust, but also a flicker of calculation. To kick a son out entirely looked bad—it suggested the Lord couldn't control his own house. But to demote a son to a servant? That showed discipline. That showed order.
And free labor was free labor.
"You want to be a servant?" Lord Zhou asked, his voice dripping with contempt. "You want to give up your birthright to become a glorified steward?"
"I know my place, Father. I am a spin-off... I mean, a minor branch. I just want to be useful in the shadows."
Zhou Feng sat back down. The heat in the room dissipated.
"So be it," the Lord grunted. "Since you have admitted your cowardice, I will not force you to die in the arena. It would be a waste of clean sand."
He picked up a scroll and tossed it at Rian. It hit him in the chest.
"Your future will be decided tomorrow at the ceremony. You will stand with the servants. You will receive a bloodline befitting your spirit—something low, something for workers. And then you will be sent away."
"Thank you, Father! Thank you!" Rian bowed until his head knocked against the stone.
"Get out," Zhou Feng muttered, already looking away. "Start packing your things. By tomorrow evening, you will no longer sleep under this roof."
Rian scrambled backward, bowing repeatedly, playing the part of the terrified, grateful wretch until he was out the door.
Once he was in the hallway, Rian straightened his back. He wiped the tears from his face with a cold, dry hand. Leverage secured, he thought. I keep the Zhou family protection, but I lose the Zhou family target on my back. Now, I just need a territory.
The Inner Sanctum – Twenty Minutes Later
Lady He was feeding strips of raw meat to a golden eagle perched on her stand when the servant whispered the news in her ear.
She paused, a strip of bloody meat hanging from her fingers.
"He actually did it?" she asked, a slow smile spreading across her lips. "He knelt and called himself a cockroach?"
"Yes, Mistress. The Lord was furious. He called the boy a waste of blood. He has agreed to assign him to an auxiliary branch."
Lady He fed the eagle, watching it tear into the flesh.
"Perfect," she purred. "The Lord washes his hands of him. The boy accepts his fate as a servant. Now, no one will object to the arrangement I have made."
She walked over to her desk. There lay a map of the Kingdom. Her finger traced the trade routes, moving past the fertile plains, past the rich mining mountains, all the way to the top edge of the map. The white zone.
Frostreach Outpost.
"It is a graveyard," she whispered. "The supply caravans are raided by bandits. The Spirit Beasts there are invisible in the snow. The last three managers sent there died of frostbite or were eaten."
She opened a small, velvet-lined box on her desk. inside sat a glass vial containing a dark, viscous purple fluid. The Nether Spider.
"A useless bloodline for a useless son," she said, closing the box with a snap. "He wants to serve the family? Fine. He can serve as bait for the ice wolves."
She turned to the servant. "Go to the Ceremony Hall. Ensure the Spider vial is placed in the 'Servant's Lot'. And ensure the transfer papers for Frostreach are stamped with the Lord's seal."
"Yes, Mistress."
Lady He looked out the window at the setting sun. "Pack your bags, Rian," she laughed softly. "You are going on a very long trip."