The Xiao Clan moved on quickly.
For most people, the annual test was a single day of judgment, quickly buried beneath routine. Cultivation resumed, patrols rotated, business matters filled the elders' schedules. By the third morning after the test, Xiao Yan's name was already fading from conversation—spoken only when someone remembered to sigh.
That was exactly as he intended.
Xiao Yan spent the next few days rarely leaving his courtyard. When he did, it was only for necessities—meals, short walks through the clan grounds, brief visits to the cultivation hall during off-hours. His behavior was unremarkable to the point of invisibility.
To the outside world, it looked like resignation.
To Yao Chen, watching quietly from the ring, it looked like discipline.
"You're restraining yourself," the old man noted one evening as Xiao Yan returned from a walk, the sky already darkening. "Most youths would rush to test their gains."
Xiao Yan smiled faintly as he closed the door.
"I've rushed before," he said. "It didn't help."
The answer was simple. Honest. And carefully chosen.
Yao Chen nodded approvingly.
Inside, Xiao Yan's thoughts were already elsewhere.
The engagement timeline hasn't shifted yet, he noted. Which means the spark hasn't been touched.
He had no intention of letting it explode publicly.
Not humiliation. Not righteous anger. Not a scene that would carve resentment into stone.
Power did not grow from drama.
It grew from leverage.
That afternoon, Xiao Yan made an unremarkable request.
He asked the steward managing the clan's correspondence for permission to review several old records—trade agreements, past alliances, marriage contracts. His reason was practical, almost dull.
"I want to understand how the clan operates," he said politely. "If I can't cultivate properly, at least I shouldn't remain ignorant."
The steward hesitated, surprised.
Then softened.
"There's no harm in that," he said. "Just don't tire yourself."
Xiao Yan thanked him and left with a small stack of documents.
Yao Chen watched in silence as Xiao Yan spread the papers across his desk later that night.
"You're studying politics now?" Yao Chen asked.
Xiao Yan chuckled lightly.
"Isn't cultivation the same thing?" he replied. "Just with people instead of Dou Qi."
Yao Chen snorted. "Careful. That kind of thinking leads to trouble."
Xiao Yan lowered his gaze respectfully.
"I'll remember that."
Inside, he was already scanning names.
Nalan.
Misty Cloud Sect.
Wu Tan City.
Marriage alliances were not romantic gestures here. They were contracts—bridges between factions, guarantees of future cooperation.
And bridges, Xiao Yan knew well, could be rerouted.
Two days later, Xiao Yan accompanied his father to a minor clan gathering.
It was not a grand event—just a routine meeting between several influential families within Wu Tan City, held in a modest hall near the eastern district. Tea was served, pleasantries exchanged, and business discussed in careful tones.
Xiao Yan sat quietly beside Xiao Zhan.
He spoke little, nodding when addressed, pouring tea when appropriate. His posture was respectful, his presence subdued. Several elders glanced at him with faint pity before returning their attention elsewhere.
Midway through the meeting, the conversation drifted—naturally, as it often did—to alliances.
"The Nalan Clan's influence has grown steadily these past years," an elder remarked casually. "Especially since their ties with the Misty Cloud Sect strengthened."
Xiao Zhan nodded. "Indeed. Their position in Wu Tan City is secure."
Another elder chuckled. "Secure is one way to put it. With the Misty Cloud Sect behind them, few would dare challenge their decisions."
The words were not directed at Xiao Yan.
That made them more useful.
He kept his gaze lowered, but his ears sharpened.
"Their young generation is impressive as well," someone added. "That girl—Nalan Yanran. I hear she's already been taken as a disciple by the sect."
At the mention of the name, Xiao Zhan's hand tightened slightly around his teacup.
Xiao Yan noticed.
He did not react.
"Ah yes," the elder continued. "Quite a pity, really. Marriage alliances can become… complicated when cultivation paths diverge."
The implication hung in the air.
No one said more.
No one needed to.
Xiao Yan took a slow sip of tea.
The flavor was bitter.
So the tension already exists, he thought. Good. I won't have to create it.
That night, Xiao Yan did not ask questions.
He waited.
Sure enough, as he and his father walked back through the dimly lit streets toward the Xiao Clan, Xiao Zhan finally spoke.
"Yan'er," he said slowly, "if… if there are things weighing on your heart, you can tell me."
Xiao Yan paused.
He looked up at his father, eyes steady but soft.
"Is this about the Nalan Clan?" he asked gently.
Xiao Zhan stopped walking.
He stared at his son in surprise. "You know?"
Xiao Yan hesitated, then nodded.
"I've heard bits and pieces," he said. "And I'm not blind."
There was no accusation in his voice.
No resentment.
Only quiet understanding.
Xiao Zhan's expression tightened.
"That engagement was arranged when you were young," he said heavily. "At the time, it was beneficial for both clans. But now…"
He did not finish.
Xiao Yan completed the thought for him.
"Now it's inconvenient."
The word was chosen carefully.
Not unfair.
Not humiliating.
Inconvenient.
Xiao Zhan sighed deeply.
"I won't force you," he said at last. "No matter what happens."
Xiao Yan smiled faintly.
"I know," he said. "That's why I trust you."
The words were sincere.
They were also strategic.
Xiao Zhan's shoulders relaxed slightly, though the worry did not leave his eyes.
As they resumed walking, Xiao Yan's gaze drifted toward the distant outline of Wu Tan City's eastern horizon—toward the direction of the Misty Cloud Sect.
Yanran won't want a scene, he thought. And neither will her elders.
Public humiliation damaged everyone involved.
Quiet solutions preserved dignity.
And dignity, in this world, was a currency as valuable as power.
Later that night, alone in his room, Xiao Yan sat at his desk.
The ring pulsed faintly.
Yao Chen's voice emerged softly.
"You're thinking about the engagement."
Xiao Yan looked up, mildly surprised.
"You noticed."
Yao Chen snorted. "You've been distracted since that meeting."
Xiao Yan leaned back in his chair.
"If it becomes public," he said thoughtfully, "it will damage my clan. And if it's handled poorly, it will damage me even more."
Yao Chen studied him.
"You plan to confront them?"
Xiao Yan shook his head.
"No," he said. "I plan to make it unnecessary."
Yao Chen raised an eyebrow.
"And how do you intend to do that?"
Xiao Yan smiled—gentle, almost sheepish.
"I'll let them believe it was their idea."
The old man stared at him for a moment, then laughed softly.
"You're a strange one," he said. "You don't think like a cultivator."
Xiao Yan lowered his gaze modestly.
"I don't have the luxury."
Inside, his thoughts were already forming threads—subtle, overlapping, leading quietly toward the same outcome.
No confrontation.
No spectacle.
Just an agreement that would quietly dissolve before it ever reached the light.
Outside, the Xiao Clan slept.
And somewhere far away, in the Misty Cloud Sect, a young girl continued her cultivation—unaware that her fate had just been nudged, gently and invisibly, onto a different path.