Dren woke up before the first light, the room was still dark and cold. He sat up slowly but steadily His mind was quiet but alert, like a blade kept in its sheath. He no longer felt sorry for himself, pity was a waste. What mattered to him now was strength, quiet and steady growth until the day he could make them all regret.
The small qi flame in his dantian pulsed gently, reminding him it was there.
Vion's voice came, low and calm as always, carrying that familiar edge of superiority. "You're awake. Good. Go to the hidden place. We should continue."
No mockery this time, just instruction. Vion rarely wasted words on anything he considered beneath him, clan gossips, revenge feelings, mortal pride was never his concern. He spoke only when it served his goal, freedom from Dren's body.
Dren slipped out of the room, his feet silent on the stone floors as everyone in the compound slept. He moved through the narrow paths until he reached the overgrown courtyard behind the herb sheds. Vines and thorns hung thick, so, no one ever went there.
He sat cross-legged on the cracked ground.
"Draw in qi," Vion said simply. "Use the shadows, they are denser before dawn."
Dren closed his eyes and breathed. The cool night energy flowed easier now, sliding into his meridians like black water. The flame in his dantian grew steadily. Pain came, sharp in his channels, but he endured it without complaint. Because to him, pain meant progress.
After a very long silence, Vion spoke again. "Enough. Now refine the Shadow Veil."
Knowledge instantly poured into Dren's mind, clean, precise and smooth seals and paths, far older and smoother than anything the clan taught. He formed the signs and darkness wrapped around him, thin at first, then thicker, until his outline vanished against the wall.
He held it, released it and held it again.
Each time it became faster and cleaner until the first gray light touched the sky.
"That's enough." Vion said unhurriedly and fell silent.
Dren rose, his legs stiff but stronger than yesterday. He headed to the dining hall for the monthly clan feast, keeping his head low and his eyes half-lidded.
The hall was already filled as clan members took seats by status, elders on the high platforms, direct descendants in the middle, branch and outer members on the low platform.
Dren took a cold bowl from the leftover pile and sat at the very edge.
Zev's loud voice carried over the noise. He sat with his usual group, but today a new girl was there too, she had short, black hair, with a plain gray robe of a branch family member. She ate quietly, keeping distance from the others.
Zev noticed her. "Lena, right? Eastern branch? Your father begged the elders to let you train here. Don't get too comfortable. This isn't a charity house."
Lena looked up, voice steady. "I earned my place. Same as anyone here."
Garr, Zev's bulky friend, laughed. "Earned? Branch rats don't earn anything."
A few others snickered. Lena's jaw tightened, but she said nothing more and kept eating.
Zev turned his attention to Dren. "Speaking of rats, look who's here. Still alive, idiot?"
He flicked a piece of meat that landed straight into Dren's bowl.
Dren mumbled something unclear and stared at the table. Inside, he marked every face that laughed.
Lena glanced at him for a moment, her expression unreadable, then went back to her food.
After eating, Dren drifted to the morning training yard. Teens lined up, practicing Shadow Bolt under Instructor Kael's watch. Dark darts flew at straw targets.
Zev's bolts struck true every time after which he'll grin, accepting praises.
Lena stood apart, her form careful but rough around the edges. Her darts hit the target but lacked power.
During a water break, Garr "accidentally" bumped into her, hitting her shoulder hard. Her next bolt veered wide.
"Oops," Garr said loudly. "Can't even stand straight."
Zev smirked. "Go home, branch girl."
Kael watched but said nothing, his favoritism was clear.
Dren swept the side path slowly, broom in hand and eyes down. But he extended a hair-thin thread of shadow qi along the ground, barely a whisper of Shadow Veil.
When Garr strutted past again, the thread tugged his ankle just enough. He stumbled forward, his arms flailing, and landed face-first in the dirt.
Everyone in the yard immediately burst into laughter, even Zev's group.
Garr scrambled up, furious and red. "Who…?"
Zev doubled over. "Can't walk without falling now? Pathetic!"
No one suspected the quiet sweeper in the corner. But Lena's eyes flicked toward Dren for a split second. A faint crease formed between her brows, as if she sensed something odd but she said nothing.
Training ended, as the crowd thinned, Lena walked past Dren.
She paused almost imperceptibly and took a slow glance at him. Then she was gone.
Dren kept sweeping until the yard emptied and went back into the hidden courtyard where he practiced alone.
The Shadow Bolt practice came next. He formed the dart, it was smaller and denser than the clan's version, shaped by Vion's silent guidance. It left his hand silently and punched a clean hole through a thick vine.
He continued practicing again and again, faster and stronger.
Sweat soaked his robe, his breath burned but he did not stop until his arms shook too much to hold form.
Only then did Vion speak once more, his voice calm and distant.
"Rest. Tomorrow we'll continue by deepening the meridians."
Dren leaned against the wall, his chest heaving. He felt the change inside him, his cold determination settling deeper. Revenge would come, but not from rage but from certainty and from being untouchable.
He would use the clan's contempt as cover.
He would use Vion's knowledge as a weapon.
He would use every slight, every laugh, as fuel.
And when the time comes, no one would see him coming.
The shadows were already his.