The sun dragged itself over the horizon. It painted the sky in bruises of purple and orange.
Kaelen walked up the main cobblestone path to the Vane Manor.
He looked like a nightmare dredged up from a swamp.
His new grey robes were shredded. Scorched on the left shoulder. Caked in layers of mud and dried blood. Some his. Most not.
Two guards stood at the iron gates. They were gossiping. Leaning on their spears.
"I heard the Lady Elara left for the Frost Sect at midnight," one said, yawning. "Didn't even look back."
"Can you blame her? Who wants to be tied to a cripple? Speaking of, someone needs to go check the shed. If the trash died during the storm, he'll start smelling soon."
"You go. I'm not touching him."
"Gentlemen," a raspy voice cut in. "I'll save you the trip."
The guards jumped. They gripped their spears.
They stared at the figure approaching out of the morning mist.
"Who goes th—" The guard froze. He squinted. "Young Master Kaelen?"
He looked at Kaelen's black eyes. He looked at the blood. He looked at the spatial pouch hanging from Kaelen's belt.
"You... you're alive?" the guard stammered. "But Master Thorne said..."
Kaelen didn't stop walking. He didn't even slow down.
"Open the gate."
"I... we can't. The Patriarch is having breakfast. No one is allowed—"
Kaelen stopped.
He turned his head slowly. He locked eyes with the speaker.
A faint, suffocating pressure leaked out. Not Qi. But the killing intent of a man who had slaughtered armies.
"I wasn't asking."
The guard's knees buckled. It was instinctual. Primal fear.
His hands shook so hard he nearly dropped his spear. He scrambled to the mechanism. He cranked the gate open, terrified without knowing why.
Kaelen walked through.
He didn't thank them.
***
Inside the Grand Dining Hall.
The mood was light. The Vane family was eating.
At the head of the long mahogany table sat Patriarch Vane. A stern man. Ignoring his food to read a scroll.
To his right sat Thorne. The First Young Master.
He was handsome in a cruel way. Wearing blue silk robes. Picking at a plate of roasted pheasant.
"Father," Thorne said, grinning. "I think we should turn the West Garden into a training ground. Since Kaelen won't be needing it anymore, it's a waste of space."
The Patriarch didn't look up.
"Do as you wish. Just clean out the shed before the guests arrive next week. I don't want the smell of rot embarrassing us."
"Already handled," Thorne laughed. "I sent Liu to feed him yesterday. I doubt the trash survived the night. I did him a favor, really. Put him out of his misery."
"Did you?"
The voice didn't come from the table.
It came from the entrance.
*BOOM.*
The heavy double doors flew open. They slammed against the stone walls with enough force to crack the wood.
Silence descended on the hall. Servants froze. Pitchers of wine hovered halfway poured.
Kaelen stood in the doorway.
He dripped muddy water onto the expensive rug.
Thorne dropped his fork. The Patriarch finally looked up. His eyes narrowed in irritation. Not concern.
"Kaelen?" Thorne stood up. He wiped grease from his mouth. "You're still breathing? And look at you... you look like a beggar who rolled in shit."
Thorne laughed. He looked around at the servants for validation.
"Did you crawl here to beg for breakfast? Get on your knees. I might throw you a bone."
Kaelen walked forward.
*Squish. Squish. Squish.*
His muddy boots left a trail of filth on the pristine floor.
He walked right up to the table. He stopped directly across from Thorne.
Kaelen reached out. He grabbed a crystal goblet of wine from the table.
He downed it in one gulp.
*Smash.*
He threw the glass on the floor.
"Thorne," Kaelen said. His voice calm. Almost bored. "I'm here to return something."
Thorne's face turned red.
"You dare? You waste of space! I broke your ribs yesterday, did you forget? Do you want me to break your legs today?"
Thorne flared his Qi. A blue aura erupted around him.
**[Target Analysis]**
> **Name:** Thorne Vane
> **Cultivation:** Body Refining Stage 6 (Mid).
> **Style:** Raging Bull Fist.
> **Threat:** Moderate.
"Body Refining Stage 6," Kaelen noted dryly. "Impressive for a frog in a well."
"Frog?!" Thorne roared. "Die!"
Thorne didn't hesitate.
He vaulted over the table. His fist glowed with blue light. He aimed a punch straight for Kaelen's face. Intending to crush his skull.
The Patriarch didn't move to stop it. He watched. Indifferent.
The fist came fast.
But Kaelen had spent the night hunting beasts and killing cultivators.
*Too linear. Too emotional.*
Kaelen didn't retreat. He stepped *into* the guard.
He caught Thorne's wrist.
*BAM.*
The shockwave blew the napkins off the table.
Thorne's eyes went wide. His fist... stopped?
He looked down.
Kaelen's pale hand was wrapped around his wrist like an iron manacle. Kaelen hadn't budged an inch.
"Impossible," Thorne gasped. "You have no meridians... you're a cripple..."
"I was," Kaelen agreed.
Kaelen squeezed.
*CRACK.*
Thorne screamed.
It was a high, shrill sound. It didn't belong to a Young Master. The bones in his wrist ground together into powder.
Kaelen twisted the arm. He forced Thorne to his knees.
"You said you did me a favor?" Kaelen whispered. He leaned down so only Thorne could hear. "Let me return it."
Kaelen released the wrist. He grabbed Thorne by the throat before he could scramble away.
He lifted the older boy off the ground with one hand.
Thorne kicked wildly. His face turned purple. "Father! Help! He's—"
"Put him down."
The Patriarch's voice boomed through the hall.
He stood up. He knocked his chair over. His aura—**Qi Condensation Stage 5**—flooded the room. Heavy. Suffocating.
"Kaelen! That is your brother! You will release him this instant and explain how—"
Kaelen looked at his father.
He didn't flinch under the pressure. The corners of his mouth curled up.
"Release him? Okay."
Kaelen slammed Thorne onto the table.
He didn't just drop him. He drove Thorne's head down onto the solid mahogany.
*CRUNCH.*
Wood splintered. Food flew everywhere.
Thorne went limp. Blood poured from his nose and ears. It slid off the table onto the floor.
> **[Critical Damage Dealt]**
> **[Target Incapacitated]**
Kaelen wiped a splatter of gravy from his cheek. He looked at his father, who was standing frozen in shock.
"He's released," Kaelen said.
"Now. Is there any more bacon?"