Chapter 7: The Young Master's Cruelty
Morning in the Everdawn Sect broke not with peace, but with cold commands and harsher expectations. As golden rays crept over jade rooftops and polished courtyards, the sounds of barking orders, clashing swords, and urgent footsteps filled the air.
And beneath all that grandeur—past the elegant cultivation halls and blooming spirit gardens—were the servants.
In a moss-stained courtyard tucked behind the alchemy halls, Raiyen stood with a bucket in each hand, his sleeves soaked, knees damp from scrubbing the marble floor. The stone glistened now, spotless, reflecting a perfection few ever noticed.
He'd been up since the fifth bell.
Pain lanced through his back from the hours of labor, but he didn't flinch. He worked in silence, slow and careful, each motion deliberate. Not because he cared about the task—but because eyes were always watching.
Especially his eyes.
Gao Lin.
The son of Elder Gao Jintao. An inner sect disciple with a sharp face, immaculate robes, and a voice like wine—sickeningly smooth, intoxicating to fools. He was the type who never lifted a finger, yet always basked in praise. Arrogant. Cruel. Entitled.
And worst of all: bored.
Raiyen had drawn his attention the moment he'd returned from the wilderness with supplies faster than any other servant. That small efficiency, that quiet defiance of expectation, had been enough.
Gao Lin needed no other reason.
So it began.
First came the kicks. Then the petty slaps. The "accidental" spills of soup across his back. Orders shouted in front of others, designed not for utility—but for humiliation.
Raiyen endured it all.
Every blow, every insult, he took without reaction. But not without purpose.
He fed off it.
The Sinbound System remained quiet most of the time, dormant in his soul—but when emotions boiled near him, when hatred or lust or envy flared… it stirred.
And Gao Lin, with his pride and malice, was a feast waiting to be harvested.
That morning, Raiyen had just finished polishing the garden stones when he sensed the disturbance.
Footsteps. Two pairs.
He didn't need to look to know who it was.
"Still on your knees, servant?" came Gao Lin's mocking drawl.
Raiyen remained bowed, head lowered. He said nothing.
Another voice laughed—a weaselly tone, probably one of Gao Lin's toadies.
"He scrubs well. Maybe we should lend him to the inner court. I'm sure the senior sisters would enjoy him washing their feet."
More laughter.
Raiyen raised his head slightly, just enough to meet Gao Lin's eyes. The look he gave was practiced: submissive, dull, harmless.
But behind it, his real gaze burned.
Gao Lin sneered. "Tch. Still quiet, dog? Are you mute now?"
Then, without warning, the toe of his boot slammed into Raiyen's chest.
Raiyen stumbled back, breath caught—but remained standing.
Gao Lin frowned. That wasn't the reaction he wanted. He wanted Raiyen groveling, coughing, shamed.
"I asked you to clean this courtyard," he snapped. "But it's filthy."
"It has been cleaned, Young Master," Raiyen said softly.
"Did I ask what you thought?"
Another kick came. This time to the shoulder.
Pain exploded down Raiyen's side, but he absorbed it. Not out of weakness—but control. Inside his core, a subtle warmth flickered.
> [Sin Aura Detected: Pride.]
[Passive Harvesting: +2 Sin Points]
Each insult fed him. Each blow unlocked another layer of their inner filth.
He straightened slightly, brushing dirt from his robe, and bowed low. "Forgive me, Young Master. I will clean it again."
Gao Lin snorted. "Make sure you lick it next time. Maybe your dog tongue works better than your hands."
The laughter from his friend grew louder.
But Raiyen's mind was elsewhere.
He was calculating.
He had enough Sin Points to trigger a low-grade ability. Nothing flashy—he couldn't risk it. Not yet.
But subtle? Quiet? Psychological?
That, he could work with.
That night, while the disciples retired to their private chambers, Raiyen slipped toward the rear courtyard, where Gao Lin's personal pavilion overlooked a tranquil koi pond. It was silent save for the water's gentle burble and the occasional rustle of breeze through bamboo.
Raiyen stood beneath the shadows of the peach trees, eyes narrowed.
> [Activate Trait: Sin Insight]
Lines of red and gold shimmered into his vision. A twisted aura of pride coiled around Gao Lin's pavilion like a serpent—arrogant, bloated, and fragile at the core. He could see the cracks. The insecurities hidden beneath the silk. The fear of failure. The shadow of his elder father's disapproval.
He pressed his hand to the tree trunk, whispering the Forbidden Flame into the bark. The sigil carved there earlier pulsed once—then faded.
Just a seed. A whisper.
But tomorrow, Gao Lin would wake up and see visions in his mirror—fleeting illusions of Raiyen's face in the water. Shadows on the wall that didn't move with the lantern light. Paranoia.
Madness, slowly seeded.
> [New Passive Ability: Whisper of Dread]
Effect: Begin psychological erosion of marked target through passive fear induction. Requires line of sight and recent emotional trigger.
Raiyen stepped away from the pavilion, his expression unreadable.
He didn't need to crush Gao Lin in battle. Not yet.
He needed to make him doubt himself. To question his superiority. To feel fear.
Because power wasn't in the blade—it was in the mind.
And soon, Gao Lin's mind would be his.
As Raiyen disappeared into the night, the koi pond stilled again. The breeze died.
And somewhere deep inside, Gao Lin's dreams turned dark.