The "draw" at the Jade Training Grounds had achieved the exact opposite of what Vincy and Piet intended. Instead of fading into the background, Vincy had become a vacuum, pulling every hidden agenda and simmering grudge in the Myriad School toward him.
In the infirmary of the Outer Sect, Baron sat with his arm in a sling, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. Beside him, his older brother Cyrus paced like a caged tiger. The "porridge incident" had turned them into laughingstocks, but the stalemate with Seraphina had turned their embarrassment into genuine fear.
"He's a plant," Cyrus hissed, his Crimson Forge Qi flickering around his fists. "No village boy handles Seraphina's Glacial Heart like he's taking a stroll. The Elders are playing a game, Baron. They're using this 'Sparrow' to humiliate the Clans. If we don't break him now, our family's influence in the school will evaporate by the next moon."
Cyrus looked at a small, jagged dagger on the table—a Soul-Sunder Blade, a forbidden tool designed to disrupt a cultivator's meridians. "A draw is a temporary reprieve. Next time, there will be no crowd to save him."
While the brothers plotted, Lady Seraphina sat in the silence of her private pagoda, staring at the star-shaped mark on her wrist. It had faded from view, but she could still feel the warmth—a vibration of power that felt more 'Royal' than the King himself.
"Uncle," she said, not turning around as a shadow detached itself from the wall. The High Chancellor's chief spy stood there. "You saw the match."
"I saw a boy who doesn't know he's holding a sun in his hands," the spy replied. "The Merchant Conglomerate is already shifting their bets. They've frozen the Great River Clan's credit lines and are funneling 'anonymous' resources toward the Shadow Valley. They want to see if the Sparrow can be bought, or if he needs to be... harvested."
Deep within the school's restricted archives, Lord Vane stood before a mirror, sending a coded message back to the Capital. His hands trembled slightly.
"The boy's Qi is not of this world," Vane whispered to his own reflection. "It bears the signature of the Primordial Star Scripture. If the legends are true, he isn't just a genius; he is the key to the Forbidden Path. King Alaric must know: the 'oblivial phenomena' is no longer a myth. Two souls, one vessel. We must secure the boy before the Ancestral Clans realize what he truly is."
Back in the stables, the atmosphere was far from regal. Vincy was currently hiding under a pile of hay while Dax and Grog stood guard at the door.
"He's not here!" Dax shouted at a group of students who were trying to peer through the windows. "The Prophet is in deep meditation! He's currently... uh... communicating with the Spirit of the Universe! Come back tomorrow with more buns!"
"Vincy, you can come out now," Piet's voice rang out, sounding more amused than usual. "The 'Order of the Sparrow' has retreated. Although, I must say, the 'Scent of Horse Manure' is a very effective cloak for your high-level aura."
Vincy poked his head out of the hay, looking exhausted. "Piet, it's getting worse. People are looking at me like I'm a god or a target. I heard a group of Inner Court disciples arguing about whether my 'stumble' was a secret martial art called 'The Drunken Celestial Path.'"
"It might as well be," Piet sighed, flicking a piece of straw off Vincy's shoulder. "But we have a problem. The air is growing thick with killing intent. The 'Undercurrents' are no longer under the surface, Vincy. They are rising. Lord Vane, the Merchants, the Clans... they are all closing in. They don't want to know who you are anymore; they want to own who you are."
Vincy looked at his hands. For the first time, they didn't shake. The Star-Core Clover had done more than strengthen his body; it had anchored his spirit. "What do we do?"
"We do what every great King does when cornered," Piet's violet eyes flashed with a cold, ancient light. "We stop pretending to be a sparrow. If they want a monster, Vincy... let's give them a Prince."