The forest had already surrendered to night. The sun still lingered above the horizon, but beneath the canopy, dusk pressed down like a weight, swallowing colour until only the pale edges of bark and the faint shimmer of leaves caught what little light remained. At the roots of a massive tree, Qingshan waited.

  He looked nothing like the chief of Stonebrook Village. His hair hung loose, damp with sweat and tangled from restless days. His eyes were rimmed red, as though he had forgotten the use of sleep. The proud bearing that once marked him had dissolved; his shoulders sagged, and the fine lines of authority etched into his face had been eroded by grief.

  Two days had passed since the attack. Two days of whispered condolences, neighbours praising his son’s brave death—words that did nothing to quiet a mother’s sobs or answer the younger boy when he asked why his brother had not come home.

  Qingshan had spoken little since then. Grief had stripped him silent, leaving behind only the shell of a man who had once held the whole village together.

  Tonight, he should have remained by his family’s side. No force in the world could have drawn him from them—except the one who had summoned him. Xiao Lei. For that name alone he had slipped from the village, leaving his household in darkness, and come to this lonely place beneath the trees.

  Now, nearly two hours had drained away, the silence gnawing, his anger simmering. Each moment that passed stoked the ember in his chest, until at last he caught sight of a figure moving through the gloom.

  Xiao Lei, emerging without hurry, lifting a hand once in wordless command before turning aside, as though Qingshan were nothing more than a shadow meant to follow.

  Qingshan obeyed despite himself, footsteps crunching against fallen leaves. He found Xiao Lei standing still, hands clasped behind his back. The young man did not turn, his voice carrying cold through the night.

  “Chief Qingshan. Grief weighs on you—it suits you poorly.”

  The words pierced deeper than any blade. Qingshan’s jaw tightened. He had held his composure before the villagers, had held his silence for his wife’s sake. But here, before this boy—no, this academy disciple who had dragged his life into ruin—his restraint faltered. He glared, breath shuddering through clenched teeth.

  At last he spoke, his voice low, frayed with exhaustion. “Xiao Lei—your design buried my son. I care nothing for the academy. I want the truth, and I’ll have it, no matter who you think you are.”

  Only then did Xiao Lei turn. His gaze swept over Qingshan, studying him as though he were a mask carved for tragedy. For a moment, something unreadable flickered in those eyes—then a smile, faint and sharp, tugged at his lips.

  “Answers?” he murmured. “I have them. But first, indulge me in a question of my own.”

  He let the silence stretch, then asked, voice soft yet cutting:

  “Where is the bandits’ hideout? Or…”

  His smile thinned, voice dipping into mockery.

  “…should I be asking about your hideout, Chief Qingshan?”

  Qingshan’s eyes widened, voice breaking through the forest’s hush.

  “What nonsense are you spouting?”

  The young cultivator did not flinch. His posture remained still, hands loose at his back, as if the weight of accusation were nothing more than a passing breeze.

  “Oh,” Xiao Lei replied, tone light, almost bored. “But I think you already know.”

  Fury bled into Qingshan’s face. His eyes blazed, his words coming sharp and fast, edged with grief.

  “Good. Very good. First you bled me of wealth, then you buried my son. And now you dare accuse me? Fine. I’ll drag your name through the mud—I’ll go to the officials myself. Let’s see how long a fraud like you lasts in the Royal Academy!”

  His voice echoed against the trunks, loud enough to scatter a pair of roosting birds into the half-light. He turned sharply, steps heavy as if to leave the matter behind.

  Behind him, a sound cut through the gloom. Not bright laughter, but low, measured, carrying more threat than mirth.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  “Please, Chief Qingshan,” Xiao Lei said. “Drop the act. I have enough proof—timings, tracks, and a witness. If I killed you here and now, not a finger would rise against me.”

  The chief’s stride faltered. Slowly, stiffly, he turned back, anger tightening his features. His voice, though hot, carried a thin tremor.

  “Proof? What proof could you possibly have?”

  Xiao Lei bent at the waist as if idly inspecting the ground. He plucked a brittle branch from the roots, weighed it in his fingers, then lazily pointed it toward Qingshan.

  “Like Rai Mu.”

  The name landed heavily. Qingshan’s face twitched, though he tried to mask it with defiance.

  “What of it? Everyone knows he was the traitor. He struck at you in secret. My son—my Tai’er—gave his life to protect you.” His tone cracked on the last words, whether from rage or something else, even he could not tell.

  “Exactly.” Xiao Lei’s voice sharpened, each syllable deliberate. “How convenient. You want me to believe someone at Mortal Vein stepped between me and a fifth-stage cultivator’s blade and bought me a heartbeat? Even you can’t swallow that, Chief.”

  Qingshan spat the answer without pause, as though clinging to it were the only way to keep standing.

  “Because I ordered Tai’er to guard you. That is why he was close enough to intervene!”

  “Or,” Xiao Lei countered softly, “because Rai Mu allowed it. Enough time to make a show of sacrifice. Enough time for you to spend a son—ah, forgive me, an adopted son—and in return, earn the villagers’ sympathy. A clean ledger. A father made blameless. And me, left with a debt I never asked to carry.”

  Qingshan’s breath hitched, his hand curling unconsciously at his side before he forced it into a fist. His snarl covered the falter, but not enough to hide the crack beneath it.

  “Lies! All lies—you twist stories to cover your failure!”

  “Oh?” Xiao Lei tilted his head, watching him with a half-smile that did not touch his eyes. “Tell me, Chief. Did you ever see Rai Mu’s body?”

  The words struck deeper than any accusation. Silence spread between them. Qingshan’s throat worked, but no sound came. He remembered the escorts returning, remembered their disgust—how they had left the traitor’s corpse behind, unworthy of burial. And Xiao Lei, who had stayed in the wilds rather than return with them.

  A cold thought clawed its way into his mind. His lips parted.

  “Is… Rai Mu alive?”

  Xiao Lei’s only answer was a smile, faint and sharp. He shifted aside, and the shadows behind him stirred. A silhouette moved forward, step by step, its gait deliberate, deliberate. Something in the outline—the set of the shoulders, the tilt of the head—scraped at Qingshan’s memory, too familiar to dismiss, too dreadful to name.

  Then… the fading light caught his face.

  Rai Mu.

  “You…? No—impossible—”

  The words scraped out of Qingshan’s throat, hoarse, half-formed, breaking under disbelief before rage could catch hold. His eyes, bloodshot and unblinking, fixed on the figure that should not exist.

  Rai Mu stood there, silent, unhurried. He bent at the waist in a measured bow toward Xiao Lei. The youth inclined his head in return, then turned, his tone faint yet cutting.

  “Evening, Chief Qingshan.”

  The forest seemed to lean in around them.

  Qingshan staggered back a step, disbelief cracking into rage. “No—no! This cannot be happening! You’re trying to frame me. I am the chief! No one would believe you!”

  Xiao Lei’s voice slipped through the protest like a blade through cloth, calm, steady, leaving no space for rebuttal.

  “I don’t need them to believe me. Even if I remain silent now, the moment I report what I know, your family—your real family—will be dragged into the square and executed. Think, Chief. How pleased your ancestors will be, watching you die in the very village you’ve ruled for decades.”

  Qingshan’s jaw clenched. His mind reeled. The plan had not been flawless, but it should have been enough to fool a boy—an academy student who lived behind walls, training day and night, with no sense of the dirt and cunning of the real world. Sacrificing an adopted son was cruel, yes, but effective. A clean trade: one life for reputation. He had never imagined Xiao Lei would preserve Rai Mu, let alone unravel everything so cleanly.

  His voice dropped low, strained. “You… what do you want?”

  Xiao Lei’s smile flickered, cool and thin. “Finally, the right question. If I reported you, the academy would hand me points and a few scraps. But I want more. Why don’t you show me where you’ve hoarded your spoils all these years? I’ll take half. You keep the rest. We both walk away satisfied.”

  At that, Rai Mu shifted, lips parting as if to protest. Xiao Lei silenced him with a single flick of his hand—casual, unyielding.

  Qingshan’s brow furrowed. He breathed slowly, as though buying time. “You—you expect me to trust a snake like you? What assurance do I have you won’t go back on your word?”

  Xiao Lei laughed, soft at first, then sharp, like glass cracking. “Bold words—from the man who sacrificed his own son. Oh—pardon. Adopted son.”

  The laughter cut off as abruptly as it began. His tone cooled.

  “Do you know why I arrived late tonight, Chief? I’ll tell you. I was on my way here, but then I remembered I had yet to pay respects to Jun Tai. He saved my life, after all. So I went to your home.”

  Qingshan’s eyes narrowed, suspicion and dread colliding. His chest tightened.

  Xiao Lei stepped closer, each word deliberate. “There, I found little Jun Tei. Alone. Waiting. The boy seemed lonely, missing his brother. So I took him with me—for a walk.”

  The world tilted. Qingshan’s vision swam, his roar breaking the air. “You dare harm my son?!”

  A chuckle answered him. “Strange. Just moments ago, you accused me of causing you to lose a son already. What does it matter if I add one more?”

  Rai Mu watched him, jaw loosening with something that looked like bitter relief—the mirror image of four nights ago, but reversed: then Rai Mu had been the one bound by Qingshan’s threats, forced into submission by the lives of his mother and sister. Now, at last, the weight was lifted.

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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.