Prince Tianze let out a breath he did not voice, the weight settling in his chest as his gaze lingered on his younger sister. Xinyue’s silence was sharper than any words. Few years ago, her laughter had been the brightness of these halls—carefree, untamed, kind to the point of foolishness. But since their mother’s death, that light had dimmed.

  At first it flickered still, breaking through in small moments of warmth. Now it was as though the girl he remembered had been sealed away, leaving behind a figure colder, harder, almost unfamiliar.

  Guilt pricked him, an ache he could neither confess nor absolve. She bore him no blame—her eyes never accused—but that mercy only deepened his shame.

  So he tried, clumsily, to ease the air with light words. The attempt sank, heavy and hollow. The chamber seemed to reject it, shadows clinging to the carved pillars, hush curdling like taut string. Mu Zhen managed a smile, his years of managing clan affairs having trained his face into practiced calm.

  But Mu Pei was far younger, his emotions worn plainly as open script. He bit down on his words, the strain written in every twitch of his jaw. For him, watching Princess Xinyue openly threaten the elder brother he revered was unbearable. Rage swelled, yet he had no ground to stand upon, no place to release it.

  The tables filled soon after, servants moving with silent precision, setting down trays of fragrant dishes and jars of aged wine. The colours were rich—steaming meats glistening with spice, delicate fruits carved into patterns of cranes and blossoms—yet their beauty could not disguise the weight pressing on the table. A hush that settled in the chest like damp stone.

  The guests ate quietly. Only Prince Tianze’s deliberate, occasional questions cut through the hush.

  At last, when the meal ended, Tianze rose with courtesy, escorting the four guests toward the palace gates. The evening air beyond carried a faint coolness, the sky over the courtyards painted in deep indigo.

  By the time they stepped into the cool corridors, Mu Pei’s restraint was hanging by a thread, his silence sharpened into something brittle.

  Xinyue walked with her head slightly lowered, her expression unreadable. As they moved, her gaze flicked once to Uncle Li. He gave the smallest of nods. The unspoken message settled her heart. The most dangerous matter had been resolved. Only a minor detail remained.

  She adjusted her pace, slowing just enough to let the gap widen without drawing notice. The others unconsciously matched her rhythm, all except Mu Pei, who walked forward still caught in his simmering thoughts. Within a dozen steps he had drifted five or six paces ahead of the group, unaware of how alone he appeared.

  From the shadows of the corridor, where servants stood lined and bowing, a small figure staggered suddenly, breaking from the ordered line. It stumbled into Mu Pei with a dull thud. His temper, already stretched thin, snapped like dry tinder.

  “Useless wretch! Watch where you crawl, rat-born,” Mu Pei spat, voice low but edged like steel. At his flick of the wrist, the guard at his side stepped forward without hesitation.

  The crack of palm on flesh snapped through the corridor, followed by the thud of a body against polished stone. For a heartbeat nothing moved. The ragged breath of the child seemed too loud, echoing against the walls. Only then did heads turn, the weight of the moment crashing down on every face.

  Xiao Lei kept to the shadows near the dining area, just another servant weaving between tables with dishes balanced in his hands. His posture bent to the role, but his eyes never dulled. They lingered on the cluster of nobles at the fore, studying the smallest details with the patience of a hunter watching the wind shift.

  Within a few breaths, the tension was clear. Mu Zhen’s gaze flicked too often, restless. Mu Pei’s jaw had hardened to stone. Something had brushed against them beyond these walls. Xiao Lei filed it away, narrowing instead on Xinyue and Uncle Li. Their movements mattered more.

  When Xinyue faltered—just a fraction, her pace dipping where no one else slowed—his attention caught. The gesture was nothing on the surface, as natural as adjusting one’s breath. Yet instinct, carved into him by two months of relentless training, refused to release it. A thread of unease coiled tighter in his gut.

  Before he could pull it taut, commotion rippled through the hall. A sharp slap. Feet shuffling. Heads turning. His gaze dropped—and froze.

  A child lay sprawled across the polished floor. Blood streaked her mouth. Lian.

  His first thought struck cold. Impossible. She did not even know where he worked. But the chill was quick to sharpen. His eyes flicked to Xinyue and Uncle Li. Their faces held nothing. Calm as still water, untouched even by ripples of surprise.

  Not chance. Not mistake. The thought cut into him like glass. Still—assumption was death. If he misstepped, the trap would spring on him instead.

  Decision struck. He slipped through the crowd with practiced ease, closing the distance in a heartbeat.

  Lian sat sobbing, small hands trembling against the floorboards. A bruise swelled on her cheek, fresh blood beading her lip. She knew nothing of why or how—only the raw sting of pain, and the crushing weight of eyes bearing down on her. When Xiao Lei knelt, her fear shattered. She clutched at him, tears falling harder, streaking her swollen face.

  He steadied her, his grip firm, voice cutting low. “Lian. Why are you here?”

  Her words stumbled out, broken by sobs. “Someone… someone came. Said you called me. Brought me here. I waited, but then—then someone pushed me, and… and he slapped me, big brother.”

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  The rest blurred. He needed nothing more. Enough for him to act.

  ‘A test then.’

  Around them, stillness thickened. The air seemed to hold its breath. Servants watched from lowered heads, nobles with hooded eyes. Whispers stirred without sound. Some admired his unhesitating defence, others—Jinhai among them—smirked, satisfied. At the edge, Shen Mu’s stare wavered between concern and dread.

  And Xinyue and Uncle Li? Unmoving. Their stillness said more than words. This was their snare.

  Force him into conflict, push him to offend someone untouchable, then drag him back from the brink. Gratitude would root itself deep, binding him to them in loyalty. If he failed to act, their conclusion would be harsher—that he had lied, that his so-called love for his sister, was a mask. In that case, he would be discarded… or broken into obedience.

  The guard who had struck Lian stiffened when another dared to interfere. Dissatisfaction gnawed at him, swelling into a sharp heat in his chest. His eyes flicked toward Mu Pei and caught the faint crease of a frown.

  That alone was enough to twist his own features. His brows pulled low, jaw set hard, as though to prove he had acted with righteousness. Straightening his spine, he forced authority into every breath.

  “Such insolence,” he barked, the words snapping through the air like a whip. His voice carried a blade’s edge, loud enough to slice into the quiet that followed. “To stumble into Young Noble’s path—does she mistake him for a beggar? To soil his robe is crime enough. I merely delivered a lesson to a wretch unworthy of even my clean hands.”

  Satisfied with his justification, he began to turn, hoping to glimpse whether Mu Pei’s expression had softened. But even before his gaze could shift, the scene in front caused his breath to be stuck in his chest.

  His eyes widened.

  In a blur too fast to follow, Xiao Lei had moved. One instant he stood apart, still as stone. The next, he was upon the guard, fingers locking around the very hand that had struck Lian. Bones gave way with a sickening crack as Xiao Lei crushed it without hesitation.

  The guard, a cultivator of the Second Stage of Qi Awakening, let out a shrill scream, the sound tearing across the hall. But it lasted only a breath. Xiao Lei’s fist drove into his throat, silencing him mid-cry. The crunch was muffled but final. His head slumped forward, body collapsing like a puppet with its strings severed.

  A hollow hush pressed into the hall—no one breathed, no one dared move. Even the echo of the body striking stone seemed to hang unnaturally long.

  Only then, before they could even grasp what had happened, Xiao Lei was already in motion again—this time toward Mu Pei.

  For an instant, Mu Pei could not comprehend the sight. A servant—a lowborn nobody—daring to strike at him here, before so many witnesses. The disbelief flickered into disdain, and from disdain flared anger. His arm snapped forward, fist lashing out with contemptuous force.

  The clash thundered.

  Their fists collided. Air exploded outward in a concussive burst—robes snapped, dust burst from the seams of the floor, and the stone itself groaned beneath their heels as if struggling to hold the force.

  Mu Pei had not bothered to unleash his full strength—yet as an expert of the Ninth Stage of Qi Awakening, his casual blow should have overwhelmed any commoner.

  Instead, both were forced backward. Mu Pei’s boots scraped against the polished stone, carrying him three steps before he steadied. Xiao Lei staggered farther, skidding across the floor, only managing to halt after more than a dozen steps.

  But when he lifted his hand, though faintly numb, it was unbroken. He too had not used his full strength.

  Gritting his teeth, Xiao Lei surged forward again, eyes locked onto Mu Pei.

  Murmurs broke out as wave as ten guards moved at once, closing around him in a living wall of steel. Blades glinted. Boots thundered. Yet their formation faltered almost immediately—he slammed into them like a hammer into reeds, shoulders and fists breaking their line wide open.

  For a heartbeat, it seemed he might reach Mu Pei after all.

  Then the world snapped sideways.

  Something heavy struck him mid-charge. The impact lifted him from the ground, flinging his body across the hall. He crashed into a stone pillar, the air bursting from his lungs as cracks spiderwebbed across the carved surface. Dust rained down around him.

  Through the haze, his vision steadied. A figure stood between him and Mu Pei.

  Uncle Li.

  Only now did the crowd begin to stir from their stunned silence, as if shaken awake from a trance. The tension that had bound them loosened in sudden gasps, their minds latching onto the simplest explanation. The storm was over. Uncle Li had stepped forward—his mere presence was enough to force down the chaos like a heavy lid on a boiling pot.

  Mu Zhen, who had watched the spectacle with growing agitation, found his voice again. His chest swelled with indignation, though his anger had less to do with the scene itself than with the bitterness he carried from earlier negotiations. He turned sharply toward Prince Tianze, his words biting.

  “Your Highness Tianze, what kind of servants have you permitted to disgrace this hall?”

  The court shifted uneasily, all eyes seeking Tianze. He had been as shaken as the rest, but at Mu Zhen’s words, his face darkened. With a hard wave of his hand, his voice cracked like a whip.

  “Seize him. Cut the dog down where he stands!”

  The command struck like thunder. Guards tensed, blades sliding half out of their scabbards. Yet before steel could be drawn, a soft, measured voice broke the momentum.

  “Second Brother… please. Allow me to handle this matter.”

  Princess Xinyue said, her expression held the weight of a pond at dawn—reflective, undisturbed—yet it made the air itself seem to still around her. And Tianze, after a taut silence, gave a single nod.

  Xinyue’s gaze did not waver as she spoke, clear and deliberate.

  “Uncle Li, capture Xiao Lei and take him to my palace. Bring the girl as well.”

  Gasps rippled like a sudden wind through the hall. A princess had spoken a servant’s name aloud. Whispers broke out, incredulous and hushed. But before those whispers could take root, rubble shifted.

  Xiao Lei was on his feet. Blood streaked his chin, his body trembling with exhaustion, yet his eyes were fixed forward. He spat crimson into the dust and forced out words that stopped every sound.

  “Move. Out of the way.”

  The sheer audacity of it made those listening question their ears. Had he truly said that?

  A servant shrank behind a pillar, knuckles white on his tray. One guard’s stance faltered, boots sliding half a step before he forced himself still. Jinhai’s smirk lingered, hungry.

  He did not wait for an answer. His body blurred forward, broken frame straining toward defiance. Uncle Li only sighed—an old man weary of foolish youth—and with a single effortless motion, his palm struck. The boy was hurled back like a rag of cloth, crashing once more into the debris.

  Lian’s scream broke the stillness. She rushed to him, heart pounding so hard she thought it might burst. Tears clung to her lashes as she dropped to her knees, clutching his limp form.

  “Big brother! Big brother!” Her cries trembled in the air, thin and desperate, carrying farther than any blade could cut.

  Princess Xinyue’s gaze lingered on the boy half-buried in rubble. “Uncle Li.”

  Without a word, the old man vanished from her side and appeared beside the children. His figure seemed woven of wind, moving without trace. He lifted Xiao Lei’s unconscious body with one hand, gathered Lian with the other, and in the next breath they were gone—swept away from sight as if carried by the current of the air itself.

  Tianze said nothing. His hand was slightly clenched, as if the order he had given moments ago weighed like iron in his palm. His gaze lingered on spot where the boy laid moments ago, unreadable.

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  Destiny Reckoning. It’s set in the same universe, and you definitely don’t want to miss it, because the stories will eventually crossover.