Shen Huan gave a faint smile. "You hear that, Rui? The ancestor is not speaking of waiting—he is speaking of tempering. We are iron, yes, but iron that must be sharpened into a blade. Our path of flesh and marrow is unmatched in resilience. If we bind that to the Heaven Will, our lineage will be unstoppable."
Shen Rui lowered his head, though doubt lingered in his eyes. "Then… we truly mean to fight openly for it?"
"Not openly, not yet," Shen Zhenhai replied, his voice deep as the rumble of magma beneath the earth. "Our envoys will probe, not posture. But when the Heaven Will manifests, hesitation is death. If the Duan or Ink clans seize the first step, the others will hound them without rest. That chaos is the hammer-strike we require. We will not let the Heaven Will slip past our grasp."
He leaned forward, the brazier's white-gold flames reflecting in his steel-marked skin.
