"Are you ready?" Fang Yuan asked, his tone calm, almost indifferent as the morning mist clung to Qing Mao Mountain like a silent shroud.
At the doorway stood Fang Zheng, his figure still youthful, his eyes bright with hope.
"Brother," he asked, voice trembling ever so slightly, "aren't you nervous?"
"Today… it's the awakening ceremony!"
Fang Yuan's lips curved — not quite a smile, more an echo of one.
"Let's go," he said as a soft chuckle escaped him, yet there was no mirth in it.
Slowly, they descended the worn wooden stairs.
Below, Jiaying was waiting, her face gentle, framed by the faint light slipping through the window.
Her gaze lingered on her sons, pride and nostalgia flickering in her eyes like fading embers.
"I can't believe my little boys have already turned fifteen," she murmured, stepping forward to embrace them both. The warmth of her touch contrasted the cool detachment in Fang Yuan's gaze.
He returned the gesture, but only lightly, his eyes calm as still water.
"Mother, will you be coming with us?"
Jiaying shook her head, still smiling. "Rules are rules. Only the children can enter the clan pavilion today."
"Even the clan missions are on pause today."
Jiaying reached out, brushing Fang Zheng's shoulder. Her voice softened. "You two have to go alone."
Fang Yuan gave a slight nod. He'd already known — rules like this didn't surprise him.
Beside him, Fang Zheng blinked, realization dawning.
"So that's why everyone goes alone…" he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
Jiaying smiled and ruffled his hair. "Follow your brother, alright?"
Fang Zheng frowned, brushing her hand away with mock annoyance. "I'm already a man!"
Before Jiaying could reply, Fang Yuan cut in.
"Let's go." His tone was calm as he gave his mother a brief nod — a silent farewell.
She returned the gesture, eyes filled with warmth as she watched them step out the door.
Outside, the morning light spilled over the village path as the air buzzed with quiet excitement.
Children their age filled the streets — pairs, small groups, all heading in the same direction, toward the clan pavilion.
Fang Zheng's gaze darted from face to face, curiosity burning bright.
Fang Yuan, walking a step ahead, didn't look at anyone. His eyes were focused forward, calm and unreadable.
"Hey, look — those are the Fang brothers."
Even through the hum of the street, the whispers reached them. Voices low, cautious, but never quiet enough.
"The one in front — that's Fang Yuan," someone said. "They say he killed an old man."
A girl's voice followed, almost dreamy. "So that's him… he really looks strong. Just like the rumors say."
"Hmph," another boy scoffed, bitterness leaking through his tone. "So what if he looks like that?"
"Once I awaken my aperture, I'll have a body like that too." His words came out colder than he intended — envy disguised as pride.
Fang Zheng's steps faltered. He looked around, eyes narrowing.
"They're badmouthing you... again," he muttered.
"Unbelievable." His fists clenched.
"They need to be taught a lesson," he said under his breath, his young mind already memorizing their faces.
The first rays of dawn crept over the horizon, spilling faint gold across the silent mountains. The world was waking—but for Fang Yuan, the morning light only deepened his shadow.
"Hmph, a bunch of ignorant children," he scoffed inwardly, his gaze sweeping across the whispering crowd. Their petty talk, their shallow emotions—it was all noise, meaningless and frail before his eyes.
In his first life, there were things he could never grasp.
In his second life, armed with five hundred years of ruthless experience, he had learned to see deeper, clearer.
And now, in this life—reborn yet again—what had once escaped him lay bare before his mind's eye.
This was the sight of a Venerable.
Insight honed through endless schemes and blood-soaked battles; foresight carved from surviving the fate itself.
He could already trace today's outcome—the spark, the ripple, the inevitable storm that would soon engulf the Gu Yue clan.
The corner of his lips curled upward, a quiet, chilling smile forming.
"Let's see how the wheel of fate turns this time," he murmured, voice low and brimming with amusement, as dawn's light danced coldly across his eyes.
...
The sun rose, cutting through the pale morning fog like a blade of gold. Its rays pierced the mist, scattering brilliance across the quiet mountain village.
Before the grand pavilion of the Gu Yue Clan, over a hundred fifteen-year-old youths stood in solemn rows. The building loomed above them — five stories tall, its black-tiled roofs jutting sharply into the sky like fangs.
Guards in dark uniforms watched from every corner.
Within that pavilion lay the ancestral shrine — memorial tablets lined in eternal silence.
Every generation of clan leaders had lived and ruled here. This was the heart of authority, the pulse of the entire village.
"Good. All of you are punctual," spoke the academy elder. His beard and hair were snow-white, yet his eyes burned with conviction.
"Today marks your Awakening Ceremony — the first step that will decide the rest of your fates."
"I have no need for more words. Follow me."
The elder turned, his robes brushing the stone floor, leading the youths into the pavilion. But instead of ascending, they descended — step by step down a narrow stone stairway that sank into the earth.
When they reached the bottom, the sight stole their breath.
The underground cavern stretched vast and silent. Stalactites dripped light — crystalline, radiant, refracting into countless colors.
The glow painted the faces of the gathered youths in shifting hues of crimson, gold, and violet.
To them, it was beautiful.
To Fang Yuan, it was merely another stage — another beginning in a long, endless game.