A sharp knock echoed from the door, breaking the heavy silence in the room. Wang Ming glanced over his shoulder, his cold eyes narrowing slightly.
"Enter," he said, his voice as sharp as a winter wind.
The heavy wooden door creaked open, and a middle aged maid stepped inside. She moved cautiously, her head bowed low as she approached. Stopping a few paces away, she bowed deeply before speaking in a respectful tone.
"Young Master, many guests have arrived at the mansion. Your distant uncle and his family are among them. They have brought many gifts for you," she said, a faint trace of joy slipping into her voice, perhaps at the thought of her young master being showered with attention.
Wang Ming's expression remained indifferent, his gaze flicking back to the open window, where the last traces of sunlight painted the sky in shades of crimson and gold. Without even looking at the maid, he waved his hand dismissively.
"Collect the gifts, send them off, and tell them I am busy," he said, his tone cold and final. "You can leave as well. Do not disturb me for such trivial matters again."
The maid froze, her expression stunned for a moment, clearly not expecting such a response. She hesitated, as if struggling to find the right words, but before she could speak, a ceramic flower pot on the nearby table shot through the air, smashing into the side of her head with a sharp crack. She cried out in pain as the pot shattered, sharp fragments cutting into her skin. Blood trickled down her forehead, staining her pale face.
Wang Ming's gaze remained fixed on the fading horizon, his tone growing even colder.
"You're still here?" he said, his voice low and threatening. "Do you want another one?"
The maid, still trembling from the sudden attack, forced herself to bow deeply once more, her head nearly touching the blood-streaked floor. Fresh tears streamed down her cheeks, but she dared not make a sound beyond her choked breaths.
"N-no, Young Master," she stammered, her voice trembling. "This lowly servant overstepped her bounds. It will not happen again."
Wang Ming's fingers curled slightly, his mind already moving past this trivial interruption.
"Make sure it doesn't," he said, his tone flat. "Now, scram."
Without a moment's hesitation, the maid stumbled to her feet, clutching her bleeding head as she fled the room, her hurried footsteps echoing down the hallway.
As the door swung shut behind her, Wang Ming leaned back, his sharp eyes glinting in the fading light.
"The clan assigns mansions and maids to all the children of Rank Two Formation Apprentices who died serving the clan," he thought, his fingers tapping lightly against the armrest of his chair. "They consider it a small investment, a chance to nurture potential future powerhouses. The children of Rank Two Formation Apprentices have a slight chance of inheriting cultivation talent, but those from Rank One lineages are seen as nearly worthless, with only a 0.1 percent chance."
He leaned back, a hint of bitterness creeping into his otherwise cold eyes.
"As for those like me, the descendants of Rank Two formation apprentices we are naturally protected. As for rank three desendents who are orphan they are few in numbers as rank three are elder level figures. The treasures of the clan, the top level powerhouses, there are only thirteen such figures in Wang clan "
A faint, mocking smile appeared on his lips as he thought back to his peak.
"In my prime, I was a Rank Three Formation Master, just a step away from Rank Four... to think I have to start over from this miserable state. But no matter. I will rise again."
As the last traces of daylight disappeared, the room grew darker, the shadows deepening around him like the icy resolve hardening in his heart.