Zhen Zenin's body trembled as the spirit crystal dissolved into his core. Streams of energy surged through his meridians, tearing through obstructions like roaring fire. Every cell screamed, but his eyes stayed closed, focused.
Qi Gathering Realm – Stage 4.
He exhaled slowly, steam curling from his lips. His strength had grown—but not enough.
The academy exam loomed just three days away. To Zenin, it wasn't just a test—it was a battlefield. One he had to dominate.
---
Elsewhere, in the outskirts of Shang City, three corpses lay in a broken house. Burned. Charred. Slaughtered.
A hooded man crouched near the bodies, running his fingers over the seared skin. His expression was calm—too calm.
"A white flame," he murmured. "Just like… him."
He stood, voice cold. "The child has started walking his old path."
With a wave of his hand, black mist swirled around him. He vanished into the shadows.
---
Back in the Zhen Clan, Zenin faced new whispers. He had become a mystery. A threat. Some said they saw white light from his chamber. Others swore they felt pressure in the air, like a predator stalking prey.
But the elders remained silent.
Only one noticed more than most.
Zhen Mei'er.
His sister.
She stood watching him from behind a pillar as he walked through the training grounds. There was something different about her gaze now—no longer dismissive. Curious. Calculating.
Zenin didn't look at her. But he felt it.
---
That night, he sat alone by the old plum tree behind the estate. The wind rustled its withered leaves.
He thought of the man he killed. Of the silent scream. Of the smell.
And he remembered the day his disciples betrayed him—how they laughed as they drove blades into his back.
His hands curled into fists.
"There's no turning back," he whispered.
From the shadows, a pair of red eyes watched him.
---