Four Years Later.
Time in the cultivation world flowed like water, but in the Silent Courtyard, it flowed like cold syrup.
Xie Feng was now seven years old.
To the outside world, the Young Master of the Direct Lineage was an enigma. Rumors swirled through the branch families. Some said he was a peerless genius who had already comprehended the Dao. Others whispered that he was a cripple, born with a leaking body that could not hold Qi.
The truth was visible on his face.
Xie Feng sat in a wheelchair made of Spirit Bamboo, pushed by his faithful maid, Auntie Lan. His skin was pale to the point of transparency, revealing the blue veins beneath. His eyes were constantly half-lidded, dark circles bruising the skin underneath. He coughed into a silk handkerchief, which came away spotted with specks of black blood.
"Young Master," Auntie Lan whispered, her heart aching. "The wind is cold today. Shall we return?"
"No," Xie Feng wheezed, his voice sounding like cracking ice. "Father ordered me to attend the Morning Dao Lecture. I cannot be absent."
He wrapped his white fur cloak tighter around himself.
Internally, he was grinning.
The Corpse-Locking Art is truly effective, he mused.
The "black blood" he coughed up was just the impurities of the pills he had consumed. The pallor was a side effect of stopping his heart for three hours every night.
Beneath the sickly skin, his muscles were compressed like steel cables. His bones, tempered by the Void Energy, were harder than low-grade artifacts.
Current Status:
cultivation: Bone Forging Realm (Stage 2).
Public Realm: Blood Tempering (Stage 3) - Suppressed by Turtle-Snake Breath.
He was seven years old and already in the Bone Forging Realm. If this news got out, the True Dragon Nest would send assassins immediately.
So, the wheelchair was necessary. A cripple is not a threat.
They arrived at the Martial Arts Plaza.
Hundreds of children, ranging from age six to ten, stood in neat rows. These were the elites of the Xie Clan's younger generation. They wore training robes, their small faces serious, their bodies radiating the heat of vigorous cultivation.
When Xie Feng's wheelchair rolled in, the atmosphere changed.
Disdain. Jealousy. Curiosity.
"Look," a boy whispered. "It's the Invalid Heir."
"Shh! He is the Patriarch's son."
"So what? My father says he eats ten times our resources but can't even walk."
Xie Feng ignored them. He looked at the insects with the benevolence of a god watching ants.
Standing at the front of the plaza was Instructor Lie, a muscular giant with scars covering his arms. He was a strict disciplinarian from the Law Enforcement Hall.
"Silence!" Instructor Lie roared. The sound wave knocked two weaker children onto their butts.
"Today, we practice Combat Intent. Cultivation is useless if you do not have the guts to kill! I want you to pair up. No Qi. Only physical force. Fight until one surrenders!"
The children hesitated, then began pairing up.
Naturally, no one approached the wheelchair.
"Xie Feng," Instructor Lie barked, his eyes narrowing. "Do you need a special invitation? Stand up."
Xie Feng coughed, covering his mouth. "Instructor... my legs are numb today. The physician said..."
"The physician is not here!" Lie interrupted. "On the battlefield, will you tell the enemy your legs are numb? Get up, or get out of the Direct Lineage!"
The harsh words echoed across the plaza. The other children smirked. This was what they wanted to see—the fall of the privileged prince.
"I will help Cousin Feng!"
A booming voice came from the crowd. A boy, taller and broader than the rest, stepped forward. He looked nearly twelve, though he was only nine. His skin had a bronze sheen—the sign of the Bronze Skin Art, a high-level body technique.
Xie Yu. Grandson of the Third Elder.
The Third Elder had been lobbying to have Xie Yu replace Xie Feng as the Clan Successor.
"Cousin Feng," Xie Yu grinned, cracking his knuckles. "I will be gentle. I promise not to break too many bones."
Xie Feng looked at the boy.
Xie Yu. In the original timeline of the 5th Era, this kid grew up to be a decent general. He died shielding me from an arrow. He was loyal, but stupid.
Right now, he is just an arrogant brat being used by his grandfather.
"Cousin Yu," Xie Feng said softly, slowly standing up from the wheelchair. He wobbled, looking like a gust of wind would blow him over. "Please... show mercy."
"Don't worry!" Xie Yu laughed. He lunged forward.
It was a clumsy punch, purely relying on brute force. To a normal seven-year-old, it was terrifying.
To Xie Feng, it was moving in slow motion.
Too many openings, Xie Feng analyzed. Right flank exposed. Footwork unstable. Breathing rhythm chaotic.
He could kill Xie Yu in fourteen different ways before the fist connected.
But he couldn't kill him. That would ruin the "Sickly" persona.
He had to win by "accident."
Xie Feng did not dodge. He simply tripped.
Or so it seemed.
His left foot "slipped," causing his body to lurch forward. His head dipped under Xie Yu's fist.
And as he fell, his elbow "accidentally" jutted out.
It was a movement from the Chaos Heart Sutra: The Falling Mountain.
His elbow, reinforced with Bone Forging toughness, tapped a specific nerve cluster on Xie Yu's ribcage. He applied only 1% of his strength.
Thud.
Xie Feng collapsed onto the floor, coughing violently. "Ouch! I fell!"
But behind him, Xie Yu froze.
The bronze-skinned boy's eyes rolled back into his head. His mouth opened in a silent scream. The nerve strike had momentarily paralyzed his diaphragm. He couldn't breathe.
Then, his legs gave out. He collapsed face-first onto the stone tiles, foaming at the mouth.
Complete silence descended on the plaza.
"Cousin Yu?" Xie Feng cried out, crawling over to him with panic on his face. "Instructor! Help! Cousin Yu... he fainted from his own strength!"
Instructor Lie rushed over. He checked Xie Yu's pulse.
It was chaotic. The boy was in shock, but there was no external injury. It looked exactly like he had exerted too much force and suffered a backlash.
Lie looked at Xie Yu (unconscious), then at Xie Feng (trembling and pale).
Did he...? No. Impossible.
The trash heir just tripped. Xie Yu defeated himself.
"Take Xie Yu to the infirmary!" Lie barked at the guards. He turned to Xie Feng with a complicated expression. "Xie Feng. You... sit back down."
"Yes, Instructor," Xie Feng wheezed, allowing Auntie Lan to help him back into the wheelchair.
As he settled into the cushions, Xie Feng looked at his trembling hands, acting the part of the terrified child.
But under the cover of his long sleeves, his fingers traced a symbol in the air.
Loyalty requires fear, he thought.
When Xie Yu wakes up, he will realize that I hit a pressure point that doesn't exist in standard manuals. He will realize I spared him.
The Third Elder wants a puppet. I will take his grandson and turn him into a hound.
Xie Feng closed his eyes, feigning exhaustion.
The seeds were planted.
Now, he just had to wait for the harvest.
That Night.
The moon was high. Xie Feng was in his room, cultivating.
Suddenly, a shadow flickered near the window.
It wasn't an assassin. It was a messenger bird, made of black paper. It tapped on the glass.
Xie Feng opened the window. The bird dissolved into smoke, reforming into a letter on his desk.
It was from the Hall of Silence—the secret intelligence network he had started building three years ago using his mother's stolen money and the "waste" resources he pretended to eat.
He opened the letter.
The handwriting was messy, written by a rogue cultivator he had bribed.
"Report: The 'Son of Destiny', Lin Tian, has been found in Domain 3 (The Azure Mist). He is currently a servant in the Outer Sect of the Flowing Cloud Sect. He was beaten today for breaking a vase."
Xie Feng smiled. The smile was not sickly. It was predatory.
"Found you," he whispered.
"Lin Tian. My little treasure rat. Work hard. Find the rings. Find the fires. Fatten yourself up."
He burned the letter with a flick of his finger.
"In three years, I will come to collect."