Derick stood still as Cael Dren examined him in silence. The soft light of the Skysunder courtyard lanterns flickered across the master's sharp eyes, reflecting something rare: pride. But also… calculation.
"You've made good progress," Cael said at last.
Derick gave a respectful nod, his voice calm. "Thank you, Master Cael."
Cael circled him once, arms folded behind his back. "Qi Awakening Realm, low level… in just three months. And your fox companion as well. That creature is no ordinary beast. A fortunate encounter."
Derick glanced at Vixen, who sat at his side with a faintly glowing coat and alert, crimson eyes. The fox tilted its head as if in response.
"But we must keep this quiet," Cael added suddenly, turning back toward the training hall.
Derick blinked. "Why?"
Cael's voice dropped. "Because not all within this clan rejoice at your progress."
Later that night, Cael Dren stood alone on the balcony of his inner sanctum, watching the moonlight wash over the stone walkways of the Skysunder estate.
He had seen this coming.
The whispers, the sideward glances, the closed-door discussions. He'd felt the clan's patience for his independence thinning year after year.
And now, with a human pupil—one who had just crossed into the Qi Awakening Realm in only months—it was no longer whispers.
It was danger.
So he masked Derick's cultivation.
He ordered the inner circle to report that Derick remained in the final stages of Body Forging, nothing more than a slightly promising specimen—certainly not a threat.
Let them believe that.
Let them underestimate the fire rising quietly beneath their very feet.
The Gathering of Shadows
Elsewhere, deep within the Jade Hall of Authority, lit by green fire and carved from ancient black stone, twelve seats surrounded a circular obsidian table. Above the table hovered a faint illusionary disc of swirling runes—a clan relic that resonated only in times of great deliberation.
The Skysunder Clan elders were present.
Each cloaked in status, power, and ambition.
At the head of the chamber sat Patriarch Varnok Skysunder, a towering demon with an ashen crown of horns and a serpent-like tail that flicked lazily beneath his robes. His voice, when he spoke, carried the weight of law.
"Let this council begin."
The atmosphere shifted.
A crimson-robed elder leaned forward. "It is time we discussed Cael Dren."
Another nodded. "The free human."
A third added, "No longer content to merely serve. Now, he trains slaves. With clan resources."
Patriarch Varnok's eyes narrowed. "He has served the clan for decades. Honored in war. Loyal in peace."
"He has also built influence," came the response. "Quietly. But effectively."
A golden-eyed matriarch hissed, "He rejects our youth. Trains only that boy. A slave child. Why?"
Another slammed a palm against the table. "Because he prepares something. A human guard? A hidden sect? We do not know. But he isolates himself."
"And now," said the crimson-robed elder, his voice low, "rumors say the boy has broken into Qi Awakening. In under a year."
Silence fell.
Then Varnok spoke slowly, gravely. "So the winds are shifting."
Patriarch Varnok rose from his seat and approached the swirling disc above the table. With a gesture, the disc projected images—Cael Dren training Derick, the fox leaping beside him, faint glimpses of power flickering around their silhouettes.
"These are no longer servants," Varnok said. "They are seeds. And from seeds grow roots. From roots… rebellion."
"But we can't kill Cael outright," the matriarch whispered. "His deeds are too deep in the clan's annals. His name still carries weight among the outer halls."
"Then we cut off his influence," said another elder. "Strip him of discipleship rights. Forbid him from recruiting. Reduce his rank subtly, over time."
"Better still," Varnok offered, "we watch. Let him believe he still walks safely. Until he steps where he should not."
Unknown Observer
As the council adjourned, no one noticed the faint ripple in the shadows high above the Jade Hall.
A sliver of dark Qi shimmered and vanished.
An observer had watched it all.
Not demon. Not beast. Something else.
Something... old.
Back in the Training Yard
"Master," Derick asked as they returned to the moonlit platform, "what exactly is it they fear?"
Cael paused, then looked him directly in the eyes.
"They fear history repeating itself," he said.
Derick frowned. "History?"
Cael's voice dropped to a whisper. "There was a time when humans ruled parts of this world. Not with armies. With will. With cultivation so refined that gods and demons stood still in their presence."
Derick's heart pounded.
"But that era was shattered," Cael said. "By betrayal. By arrogance. And now the clans wish to keep us broken. Fragmented. Divided."
Derick's eyes darkened. "But you believe otherwise."
Cael nodded. "That's why I chose you."
He turned and walked away, his voice trailing behind him like a whisper through the wind.
"Hide your flame, Derick. Let it smolder in silence. Until the time comes to burn."