The Zhao Estate's inner halls whispered of grandeur and restraint. Painted murals, depicting the Zhao family's illustrious past, lined the walls—stern-faced warriors mid-battle, serene scholars hunched over ancient texts, all frozen in moments of honor and triumph. Yet, as Li Yuan Tian followed Zhao Qilin deeper into the estate, a subtle stillness clung to the air. Servants moved with hushed steps, their gazes fixed on the polished stone floors, avoiding any direct eye contact. The ornate silk curtains they passed seemed to hang heavier than they should, undisturbed by any passing breeze. Li Yuan Tian's own breath felt loud in the echoing corridor.
Zhao Qilin led the way, brushing past the heavy curtains, his usual lazy swagger a touch less pronounced. Even his offhanded greetings to the bowing servants lacked their usual playful lilt. The moment they stepped into the main chamber, the silence intensified. The elder of the Zhao family sat behind a grand wooden desk, his posture as rigid as the carved dragons that adorned its corners.
Zhao Qilin's father, Zhao Xian, was a man who commanded presence without uttering a word. Gold phoenix feathers gleamed against the deep indigo of his robes, symbols of his authority and the Zhao clan's enduring prosperity. His head remained bowed over a stack of papers until they were directly before his desk. Then, slowly, deliberately, his gaze lifted. His dark eyes, sharp and unwavering, scanned them, lingering for a moment on Li Yuan Tian, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly.
"Zhao Qilin." His voice, when it came, was low and steady, a deceptive calmness that didn't quite reach the keenness in his eyes. A servant near the doorway flinched almost imperceptibly at the sound.
Zhao Qilin scratched the back of his neck, his easy grin faltering at the edges. He shifted his weight slightly, a rare display of unease. "Father," he said, his tone lacking its usual flippancy. "It's been a long time. I've brought… company."
Zhao Xian's gaze narrowed almost imperceptibly as it settled back on Li Yuan Tian. "Company?" The single word hung in the air, carrying a weight of unspoken questions.
Li Yuan Tian straightened, drawing a slow, steady breath. He met Zhao Xian's gaze directly. "Li Yuan Tian," he said, his voice calm and measured, betraying none of the subtle tension he felt. "A friend of your son's."
Zhao Xian's scrutiny was a palpable thing, a silent weighing of Li Yuan Tian's presence. The silence stretched, broken only by the distant chirping of birds in the courtyard outside. It felt as though the very air in the room held its breath, waiting for the patriarch's judgment.
"You've been away for a long time," Zhao Xian said at last. "Yet you bring back someone unannounced?" His words were soft, but the underlying sharpness was unmistakable, like the glint of steel beneath velvet. "Explain yourself."
Zhao Qilin's grin didn't quite reach his eyes. "Father, it's not like that. Li Yuan Tian's someone I trust. He's strong—stronger than most." He hesitated, his gaze flicking briefly towards Li Yuan Tian before returning to his father. "He's also—" He paused again, as if measuring the impact of his words. "He's been on his own journey, just like me."
Zhao Xian's left eyebrow arched slightly, a silent challenge for his son to elaborate. "And what exactly is his journey? What do you know about him, Qilin?" His gaze remained fixed on Li Yuan Tian, a silent demand for information.
Li Yuan Tian felt the weight of that gaze, a pressure that seemed to probe beneath the surface. Years of navigating treacherous paths had taught him the value of carefully chosen words. "I've been traveling for a number of years, studying cultivation. I don't have ties to any of the major sects or families, but I've learned much." He paused, considering revealing more, but the instinct for caution held him back. "I came to the capital for opportunities. And my association with Zhao Qilin is as it seems: a friendship forged in the fires of struggle."
Zhao Xian's gaze remained locked on him, unwavering. The silence that followed was thick with unspoken questions and assessments. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he gave a slow, deliberate nod.
"Interesting," Zhao Xian said, his voice still measured. "You're not from a noble family. And yet, you claim to have no sectal affiliations." He turned his gaze back to Zhao Qilin, the sharpness returning. "What exactly do you expect from this, Qilin? This is the capital. The game here is different."
Zhao Qilin shrugged, but the movement lacked its usual carefree fluidity. "I expect nothing, Father. But this is someone worth knowing. He's strong, and I trust him."
Another long silence descended, but this time, the rigid tension seemed to ease ever so slightly, replaced by a more contemplative air. Zhao Xian sighed, a drawn-out sound that seemed to carry the weight of his responsibilities.
"Very well," he said finally. "I'll have you both stay the night. We can speak further tomorrow. But know this, Qilin—" His voice sharpened, the underlying steel now more apparent. "In this capital, you tread carefully. Your family's name means something. It will mean more when you stop playing at being some wandering fool."
Zhao Qilin's nonchalant shrug didn't quite convince. "I'm just here to live, old man. You worry too much."
Zhao Xian's gaze didn't waver from his son, but he didn't offer a direct reply. Instead, he inclined his head towards the servant waiting in the shadows.
"Prepare the guest rooms. Let them have their rest."
The servants moved with a renewed sense of purpose, their earlier hesitation replaced by quiet efficiency as they led Li Yuan Tian and Wei Shengong towards the corridors. Zhao Qilin remained behind, his conversation with his father continuing in hushed tones. As they walked down the long corridor, the silence broken only by the soft rustle of their robes, Li Yuan Tian felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck. The air itself seemed to vibrate with unspoken words and hidden agendas.
He subtly touched the jade pendant beneath his robes. A faint warmth radiated against his skin, a silent pulse in response to the unseen currents around him.
Later that night, as Li Yuan Tian sat cross-legged in the quiet of his guest room, the pendant's warmth began to intensify. Rhythmic pulses coursed through his core, not painful, but unnervingly timed—like something ancient awakening. He closed his eyes to meditate, and immediately, his cultivation stirred, rising toward a threshold. But the energy felt… altered. Directed. The pendant's influence was no longer passive.
In a nearby room, Wei Shengong stirred at a gentle knock. He opened the door to find a cloaked figure, face hidden in the dim light, voice low but confident. "I know what you seek, scholar," the figure whispered. "And I know what you left behind."
At dawn, a message arrived. Neatly folded and sealed with the Zhao insignia, it summoned Li Yuan Tian to Zhao Xian's private study. The wording was polite, but the weight it carried was undeniable. When he arrived, the patriarch was alone, hands clasped behind his back as he looked out over the estate gardens. His silence stretched long enough to unsettle even the most composed man.
"I find you... intriguing," Zhao Xian said at last, without turning around. "Let's see how deep your story goes."