After returning from the mission hall, Xiao Lei did not linger in the bustling academy. He walked straight to his quarters, each step heavy with intent, and shut the door behind him. The dim chamber smelled faintly of wood oil and old incense. Without pause, he settled cross-legged on the mat, his breathing steadying as he drew his focus inward.

  The black devouring spider’s essence still lingered in him, coiled like smoke. He began refining it, guiding the turbulent qi into his meridians. He had expected resistance—the clash of alien will gnawing at his own—but to his surprise, there was none.

  The hostile pressure he had braced himself against never came. A thought flickered, the puppy. Perhaps it had torn out the venomous will before it could root itself in him. Perhaps it had devoured and subdued what should have fought him.

  Even so, Xiao Lei did not relax. He proceeded with care, each circulation slow, each breath measured, as though walking a blade’s edge in silence.

  The black qi was dense, pebble-sized at first, grinding against the flow of his meridians. Slowly, painfully, it thinned, dissolving thread by thread. Hours melted away. Afternoon light waned into dusk, dusk into night. Sweat dampened his back, his body taut beneath the strain. And yet, with each cycle, his cultivation climbed.

  When he finally opened his eyes, the night was deep. His chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, but a faint gleam of triumph sharpened his gaze. His cultivation pulsed just a hair’s breadth from the seventh stage of Qi Awakening. Only a day had passed, yet he had leapt from the middle of the sixth stage to its peak.

  Ordinarily, such progress would have taken a month of grinding patience. Now, with the spider’s essence consumed, the boundary was within reach.

  He stood, legs stiff, and poured water from a basin over his face. The coolness cleared the haze of qi refinement, though the exhaustion clung to his bones. From his satchel, he drew a small vial.

  Inside, thick black liquid caught the lamplight—the venom he had harvested. For a moment, he thought of Lian. Her decision to master poisons burned bright, but she was still untested, still reckless. To hand her something this lethal now would be folly. A future grandmaster alchemist must not die because he had been careless. He set the vial aside.

  Hunger pressed against his fatigue, so he left for the mess hall. The air there buzzed with voices and clattering bowls. Though he had stood in the open that morning with the spider carcass, his face remained unfamiliar to most.

  He collected his meal and chose a quiet corner, eating in silence. Soon whispers rippled—recognition dawning, names muttered, glances cast his way. When his gaze brushed theirs, he answered with nods and faint smiles. Inside, he felt nothing.

  After finishing, he returned to his small room—number 121—and lay down. Only then did he notice the strangeness. What had felt like hours in the barracks had, in truth, been nearly three weeks. The realization jarred him, but only for a breath. That woman had shaped a pocket world; in such a place, even time bent to her will. He accepted it as another law.

  His body yielded to fatigue. Breathing slowed, eyelids heavy, he drifted into sleep. Thus, Xiao Lei’s first month in the Royal Academy drew toward its final week, carried on currents of exhaustion, silence, and quiet resolve.

  While Xiao Lei slept, unaware of the ripples his actions had stirred, murmurs of it travelled swiftly through the academy’s hidden channels. By the time the moon climbed high, they had already reached Princess Xinyue.

  She sat beneath the stars, her robes faintly silvered by their light, the night wind carrying the faint fragrance of pine and damp earth. Uncle Li, stooped but sharp-eyed, stood a short distance away. His voice was low, respectful, yet heavy with the weight of news.

  “Princess,” he began, “it is said the boy slew a black devouring spider.”

  Her gaze lifted from the distant horizon, surprise flickering across her usually composed face. “A devouring spider? At his cultivation?” Her tone sharpened. “How could he manage such a feat?”

  Uncle Li inclined his head. “On raw strength alone? Impossible. At the fourth stage, even a weak rank 2 venomous beast should have swallowed him whole. But the reports claim the spider was already half-dead. Fortune smiled on him, nothing more.”

  Xinyue exhaled slowly, the tension in her shoulders easing. “That,” she murmured, “is far more believable.” A faint smile touched her lips, though her eyes remained thoughtful. “Still, in only a month, he has not disappointed me.”

  Her gaze drifted upward to the vast sweep of stars. “Alas, only two months remain before the event begins. He will not be ready. What a pity….”

  Uncle Li’s sigh carried both agreement and regret. “Your Highness speaks truly. Even with elixirs, he might climb two, three stages at best.”

  Her expression softened, but her voice was calm and deliberate, every word chosen like a stone placed in a board game. “Then send more resources to the girl—Lian. Send her spirit coins and supplies. Also, place a trainer by her side. Let it seem like generosity, but in truth, she will be watched. If she possesses potential, we may yet shape her into another blade for our cause.”

  Uncle Li express his agreement. “As you say, Princess.” With the silent grace of long practice, he withdrew into the night, leaving her alone beneath the star-drenched sky.

  Xinyue did not immediately rise. She sat in stillness, her hands folded lightly in her lap, though her heart was far from calm. The contest among her siblings had already begun.

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  Each manoeuvre, each whispered plot, added kindling to the flames consuming what little innocence she still carried. Once, she had dreamed of softer things—quiet nights, laughter untainted by ambition.

  She lifted her gaze, but the brilliance of the stars only unsettled her. With a faint shake of the head, she lowered her eyes, unwilling to linger on beauty that offered no refuge.

  The night bled into morning, soft light slipping through the shutters as Xiao Lei stirred awake. His body felt unburdened, breath flowing smoother through his chest, qi circulating with a steadiness that yesterday’s strain had nearly broken. Rest had not dulled his edge—it had sharpened it.

  After a quick wash, he set out, threading through the bustling academy grounds toward the central market.

  The market was already alive—voices overlapping in a tide of haggling, laughter, and calls from vendors. Grey-robed students filled the streets, each jostling with their own ambitions. Xiao Lei scanned the sea of faces and stalls, his eyes quickly finding the building he sought.

  Heaven’s Forge.

  The shop dominated the market square, its carved pillars and gilded signboard setting it apart from the smaller stalls that crowded around it. Polished stone steps gleamed in the morning sun, as though daring those without wealth or backing to approach.

  Xiao Lei climbed them steadily.

  The moment he stepped inside, cool air greeted him, carrying a faint fragrance of incense and polished steel. A young maid in neat attire glided forward, her smile practiced and welcoming.

  “Honoured guest, welcome to Heaven’s Forge,” she said, bowing lightly.

  Xiao Lei slipped out the card Mantu had given him. The maid’s expression shifted instantly—her bow deepened, her tone becoming reverent. “Please wait here, Young Master. I will summon the manager at once.”

  She vanished, leaving him in the quiet hum of the shop. Moments later, the sound of soft slippers against wood announced another’s arrival.

  The manager approached, her beauty striking, her smile as polished as the glass cases around them. A soft laugh slipped from her lips—not childish, not forced, but light enough to seem effortless. Yet behind the brightness lingered calculation, her gaze flicking toward him as though to weigh his response. Even Xiao Lei, though young and disciplined, felt a faint ripple of stray thought before he cut it down with cold precision.

  “Young Master, we are privileged to host you today,” she said, her tone smooth, her words flowing like silk over stone. “Please, follow me.”

  Her steps were unhurried, each one placed with deliberate grace, the rhythm designed to draw the eye without seeming to demand it. Now and again, she glanced back with a carefully measured smile, testing whether his gaze would follow. Xiao Lei’s eyes, however, remained steady elsewhere, untouched. For a moment her poise cracked—the faintest tightening at the corner of her lips—before composure returned, her mask flawless once more.

  They reached the first floor, where rows of gleaming weapons rested on stands—swords with faint glimmers along their edges, spears humming with restrained energy, bows strung with threads finer than silk.

  The manager spread her hands elegantly. “These are our higher Mortal-grade spirit weapons. Enough to keep most academy disciples dreaming until Foundation Establishment—unless, of course, they have powerful patrons.”

  Her words carried both pride and a subtle reminder of status.

  Xiao Lei’s gaze swept the room, lingering briefly on a few blades, then returning to her. His tone was steady. “Are there no Earth-grade weapons here?”

  For a moment, her composure cracked. The question was bold, bordering on insolent. Her fingers twitched as though she wished to slap this child who dared speak so casually of treasures that even elites struggled to obtain. But she knew the card he carried, and she knew too well the trouble that came with offending its owner.

  Her smile tightened. “Of course, Young Master. Please, this way.”

  She guided him up another flight of stairs, but her steps lost their elegance, her irritation thinly veiled. On the second floor, instead of leading him through the central displays, she brought him to a shadowed corner where only a few cases were arranged.

  “These,” she said sweetly, though her eyes betrayed annoyance, “are the Earth-grade weapons available at present. The rest, I fear, have already been claimed.”

  Xiao Lei’s lips curved faintly, though he did not call out her lie. He knew well enough that a place like Heaven’s Forge never truly ran out of stock. But one could only be so shameless—and clearly, this woman had perfected the art.

  Xiao Lei’s gaze lingered over the display. The “Earth-grade” corner was meagre—only two swords, a spear, a staff, and a lone bow rested in the cases.

  He studied each carefully, though his interest was measured. The long blades gleamed with suppressed sharpness, but he had never trained with a sword. The spear’s shaft gleamed like a fang poised to strike, while the staff pulsed with a quiet, monastic gravity. Yet neither stirred any resonance in him. Xiao Lei’s experience lay elsewhere—daggers, short swords, weapons that suited precision and speed.

  His attention finally settled on the bow.

  It was a pale, almost bone-white wood, streaked with black veins like frozen lightning bolts. Even at a glance, it carried a presence. The manager stepped forward smoothly, voice lilting with forced enthusiasm.

  “This is the Stormbranch Bow,” she said. “Carved from a thunderstruck oak, aged fifty years. Its string is twined from storm eagle sinew. When drawn—” her tone carried the crisp cadence of a memorized script, polished for gullible ears “—you can hear the echo of the eagle’s cry.”

  A faint, haunting whisper seemed to ripple through the air as she pulled the string slightly to demonstrate.

  “A fine choice, Young Master,” she concluded quickly, her smile too sharp. Her patience had already run thin. Every moment he lingered risked him demanding something rarer. There was no profit in indulging this transaction from start, and she wanted him gone.

  But Xiao Lei chuckled softly. “Not bad. But arrows? You didn’t expect me to shoot stones with this, did you?”

  The words struck her like a slap. Her heel almost stamped the ground. A child—receiving a low-tier Earth-grade bow for free—had the gall to demand more? Her mind seethed: Arrogant brat! Shameless leech! But her face never betrayed the storm inside.

  “You are correct, sir,” she said, bowing her head slightly, voice sweet as poisoned honey. “However, our stock of matching arrows has just been depleted. They require special refinement. If you return to your residence, I can arrange for someone to deliver them to you later.”

  It was an elegant dismissal. Or so she thought.

  Xiao Lei’s lips curved in a smile that wasn’t a smile. “No need. I’m in no hurry. Fetch them here, I’ll wait.” His tone was calm, almost careless, yet it left no room for negotiation. “In the meantime… why don’t you call your weapon master? I want to discuss the forging of a custom piece for myself.”

  For a heartbeat, the manager’s world tilted. Her temples throbbed, and her smile nearly cracked. Wait for arrows? Request a weapon master? This boy wasn’t just shameless—he was ten times worse than the most entitled noble youth she had ever endured.

  But she forced her lips into another smile, though it trembled at the edges. A faint twitch flickered at the corner of her eye, betraying the strain.

  Xiao Lei met her eyes briefly, and though his expression was polite, his thoughts were crystal clear. He knew she cursed him behind that mask. He simply didn’t care.

  Two masks, one game. He had no reason to lose.

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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.