Xiao Lei lay in restless slumber, his breath rasping uneven, as though the beasts still chased him through dreams. While his body sink deeper into the exhaustion that had broken him, the academy beyond his shabby room stirred with rumours.

  Two full days passed, yet his name had not faded. Whispers spread like sparks leaping from dry wood, carried from courtyard to courtyard, spilling through many halls and sparring grounds.

  A new student—barely a month within the gates—had endured longer than any veteran in the test. The tale grew in every retelling, and before long, even distant factions beyond the academy walls were probing into who this boy was.

  Far from the murmurs, Princess Xinyue sat in her study, a quiet chamber of lacquered shelves and neatly stacked scrolls. The air smelled faintly of ink and sandalwood, steadying her mind. Her hand moved with practiced grace, gliding a brush across parchment—until Uncle Li’s words fell.

  The brush slipped. Ink bled into the paper, staining a half-finished character.

  Xinyue’s gaze lifted slowly, her stillness sharper than any startle. For several breaths she said nothing, but her knuckles tightened slightly around the shaft of the brush. Only when her pulse steadied did her voice emerge, low and measured.

  “Uncle Li… did we misjudge him? How could he endure such a trial?”

  The old steward bowed his head. His calm voice carried weight, yet beneath it ran a tremor he could not quite conceal.

  “Princess, I too am astonished. That he clashed with Mu Pei head-on and emerged with little more than superficial injury was already a feat. But this—lasting longer than anyone—defies what I believed possible. They say he wielded an earth-grade weapon, but…” His head shook faintly. “Such a tool alone cannot explain it.”

  Her brow furrowed. The candlelight caught on her lashes, throwing thin shadows over eyes that suddenly gleamed with suspicion. “An earth-grade weapon? How would he obtain one? Has another faction already reached for him—my siblings, perhaps, or others?”

  Uncle Li’s reply came after a pause, deliberate. “I made quiet inquiries. He sold the carcass of a Devouring Spider not long ago. With the coin, he might well have purchased such a bow. Still… even armed with it, what he achieved was beyond simple explanation.”

  For a heartbeat, tension lingered in her expression. Then, as if a veil drew back, her face smoothed, calm restored. Yet within that calm lay a thread of caution. She had underestimated Xiao Lei, and she knew it.

  “Tell me, Uncle,” she asked at last, voice softer, “could he break through to the ninth stage within a month?”

  The elder’s eyes lowered, uncertain. “If you had asked me of any other student, I would have dismissed the thought at once. Yet with him… I cannot answer with certainty.”

  Silence pressed between them, filled only by the faint rustle of parchment as the draft stirred.

  At last, Xinyue’s lips curved, not quite into a smile. “Send him a Flowing Qi Pill.”

  The words dropped like a stone in still water. Uncle Li’s breath caught. Very few would ever glimpse such a pill, let alone receive one. An elixir said to force one, sometimes even two, breakthroughs within Qi Condensation. In other days he might have argued against such generosity. But now, he simply obeyed.

  When he left, the chamber fell quiet once more. Princess Xinyue lingered over her documents, though her eyes drifted often from the text. A single sigh escaped her, the faintest crack in her composure, before the stillness of the study reclaimed her entirely.

  ?? — ? — ??

  A heavy pounding jolted Xiao Lei from uneasy dreams. His eyes snapped open, the sound reverberating through the small chamber like muffled thunder. He blinked, breath ragged, and pushed himself upright. For a few moments the walls seemed to tilt around him before steadiness returned.

  The knocking came again—measured, yet forceful enough that the wooden frame quivered in its hinges. Whoever stood outside had clearly restrained his strength. Xiao Lei exhaled slowly, rubbed the sleep from his face, and slid the latch open.

  Mantu loomed in the doorway. His frame was so massive it filled the threshold, shoulders brushing either side. Against such a bulk, even a controlled knock felt like the strike of a war drum.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  “I thought I’d have to break the door down,” Mantu rumbled, though his tone was light. His lips curved into a grin. “You’re famous now. Best we become friends before that. Two Earth-grade weapons—worth every coin.”

  As he spoke, he lifted a rectangular, lacquered box.

  Inwardly, Xiao Lei laughed—too easy. He understood at once. The weapons he had ordered—purchased through Mantu’s card. Mantu must have borne the price. Such weapons were no trivial indulgence. They cost what many would never earn in a lifetime.

  Outwardly, his voice faltered ever so slightly, sleeves twisting as though guilt weighed on him.

  “Brother Mantu, I… I’m sorry. I had never seen such treasures before. Greed blinded me.” His expression softened, guileless, almost like a child confessing to stealing a sweet from the jar.

  For a heartbeat, silence lingered. Then Mantu’s booming laughter filled the corridor.

  “Little brother, you’re truly too na?ve. What’s a few coins between us? From this day, if you need anything—anything at all—just come to me.”

  He shoved the box into Xiao Lei’s hands.

  He fumbled deliberately before steadying the box in both hands, then, with a show of hesitation, lifted the lid. Inside gleamed the custom-crafted gloves—metal worked to resemble the curved talons of a beast, each claw retractable, their sheen faintly cold under the morning light. He ran a thumb along the ridged joint, marvelling at the craftsmanship.

  “Ah, nearly forgot,” Mantu said, scratching his jaw as if only now recalling the matter. “Some girl has been coming for two days straight. Even now she’s waiting outside the academy gates, insisting she’s your sister.”

  Xiao Lei froze. Lian? No—she would never come here on her own. Which meant… Xinyue. Of course.

  “Oh, so she truly is your sister,” Mantu declared with a nod, as if the matter were already settled. “Come, I’ll take you.”

  He turned, his mountain-like body swaying with each step, yet surprisingly agile. Xiao Lei followed. Down winding corridors, past courtyards dappled with sunlight, they moved swiftly. Wherever Mantu walked, heads turned. Servants, guards, even idle disciples at their meals straightened and bowed. Some nodded hurriedly; others murmured greetings. Mantu ignored them all, striding towards the pavilion near the academy gates.

  Curiosity rippled in their wake. Whispers rose, hushed but urgent.

  “Is that him? The one who beat Brother Yu?”

  Gasps and sharp intakes of breath followed. Xiao Lei caught fragments, but his focus did not waver. He kept his gaze fixed on Mantu’s broad back, each step steady.

  At last, they reached the third floor of the pavilion, where private chambers were reserved for high-ranking guests. Mantu pushed open a carved door and stepped aside.

  The first thing he caught was the faint curl of sandalwood in the air. Then the lacquered screens, their painted surfaces gleaming under lamplight. Silken drapes hung heavy along the walls, and between them shimmered the thin lines of spiritual wards. At the centre, seated across a low table, was Lian, looking around with caution and surprise.

  The moment Lian’s eyes found him, her face lit with unguarded joy. She half-rose, as though ready to throw herself into his arms. But then—just for an instant—Xiao Lei’s gaze hardened, sharp and commanding. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, so fleeting even Mantu did not catch it, yet it was enough.

  Lian froze, pulse quickening, and forced herself to sink back into her seat. Her hands clasped tightly in her lap, the tremor in her shoulders slowly easing as she calmed her breath.

  “Lian,” Xiao Lei spoke at last, his tone neither harsh nor distant, but the measured cadence of an elder brother addressing his sister. “Why are you here?”

  Before she could answer, Mantu clapped a broad hand to his thigh and chuckled. “I’ll leave you two to catch up. Little brother, if you need anything, you know where to find me.”

  He had already turned when Xiao Lei’s voice stopped him.

  “Brother Mantu. I…do have a request.”

  Mantu halted, lips curving in easy humour, though a shadow flickered in his eyes.

  ‘So the boy shows his fangs at last, he thought, half sneering within. Let’s see if he’s truly greedy, or simply green.’

  “Oh?” His smile widened. “And what might that be?”

  Xiao Lei’s gaze did not waver. “Brother Mantu may already know I must reach the ninth stage.”

  Mantu’s brow arched. “So that’s it.” He had no taste for schemes himself, but he was not blind. To keep a grasping youth near was folly. Yet the words that followed struck through his assumptions like a blade.

  “Could you help me find a mission?” Xiao Lei asked, his voice steady, almost too calm. “Somewhere near a region where beasts as strong as that Devouring Spider might appear.”

  Silence pressed in. Mantu studied him, confusion stirring beneath his guarded ease. “And what do you plan with that?” He could not see the sense in it. A handful of academy missions could never yield the points needed to buy resources of that calibre.

  Xiao Lei’s fingers curled into his palm. “If I keep pushing myself again and again, perhaps I’ll break through. Better than sitting idle, waiting for chances that never come.”

  The words landed with unexpected weight. Mantu held his silence, suspicion shifting, reshaping into something else. His grin returned, but this time it carried a trace of respect. He gave a slow nod, then left without another word.

  When the door closed, he turned to question her, but his gaze snagged on the cloth bound around her right hand.

  “What happened?”

  She faltered, then forced a smile. “Big brother, it’s nothing. Just burns—slight burns. I tried mixing poison extract from a herb, and some of it spilled.”

  Xiao Lei reached across the table without hesitation, seizing her hand as though claiming an object rather than touching flesh. His grip tightened. With a single rip he stripped the cloth away, the fabric scraping cruelly over raw flesh, reopening the sting.

  Lian gasped, a sound half-swallowed, yet her eyes never left him. Pain rippled through her arm, but she welcomed it. Every careless motion, every unspoken word, she took as proof: he had noticed her suffering. Her heart surged where her hand faltered.

  Xiao Lei’s gaze lingered only on the wound, his lips a thin line. He studied the burns as if they were cracked porcelain—an imperfection to be examined, not Lian’s pain.

  Favourite button, drop a rating, write a review, and leave a comment—I read them all (even the unhinged ones). Your support fuels my writing, and hey… maybe the protagonist will suffer slightly less if you do. No guarantees though! ??

  [Click here to head to the main page!]

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