The main hall of the Ji Clan was already lively when Ji Wuyuan arrived.
It was not noisy—no one would dare raise their voice in the clan's heart—but there was a constant hum of movement. Servants carried trays of tea and spirit fruits. Guards in dark uniforms stood at the entrance like statues. Elder disciples passed by in groups, their expressions serious, as if the air itself demanded discipline.
The Ji Clan had ruled Azure Sun City for generations. Even though it was only a city in the Low Realm, the clan's name still carried weight. The merchants feared them, the smaller families respected them, and even the city lord's mansion treated them politely.
But Ji Wuyuan knew something most people didn't.
A clan that looked stable on the outside could rot from the inside.
The more powerful the clan, the more invisible knives it attracted.
He stepped into the hall.
His footsteps were light. His posture was upright. His expression was warm and respectful, with a hint of youthful innocence. Any elder looking at him would think: This child is well-raised. He is the future of the clan.
That was exactly the image Ji Wuyuan wanted them to see.
At the highest seat sat a man in a dark robe embroidered with silver patterns. His face was stern but not cruel. His eyes were deep, carrying the pressure of someone who had commanded others for decades.
Ji Zhenhai.
The Patriarch of the Ji Clan.
Ji Wuyuan's father.
To the world, he was a powerful figure, an expert who could suppress Azure Sun City with a single word. To Ji Wuyuan, he was also the man whose corpse had been hung on the clan gates in his last life as a warning.
That memory was still fresh enough to taste.
Ji Wuyuan lowered his head and bowed, voice gentle.
"Father."
Ji Zhenhai's stern expression softened slightly. His gaze lingered on Ji Wuyuan for a moment longer than necessary, as if checking whether his son had grown overnight.
"You've been cultivating diligently lately," Ji Zhenhai said slowly. "Your aura is more stable."
Ji Wuyuan smiled modestly, his eyes bright.
"It is only because Father's guidance is good."
A simple sentence.
But the hall's elders all nodded unconsciously.
Flattery was cheap.
But when spoken by someone like Ji Wuyuan—someone known for talent and good temperament—it sounded sincere rather than oily.
On the left side of the hall sat the First Elder, an old man with white brows that nearly touched his cheekbones. His presence was heavy, like a mountain. Even sitting there, he looked like someone who could crush a reckless junior with a glance.
First Elder, Ji Tianyuan.
On the right sat the Second Elder, dressed in a neat robe, smiling warmly. His features were refined, his voice always pleasant. He looked like a man who cared deeply for the clan.
But Ji Wuyuan remembered him clearly.
Second Elder Ji Mingxiu.
The man who had bowed to the protagonist with tears in his eyes, calling it "for the greater good," before ordering the clan gates opened.
Ji Wuyuan's smile did not change.
He bowed politely.
"Second Uncle."
Ji Mingxiu chuckled softly, waving his hand as if embarrassed.
"No need for such formality. Wuyuan, you are the pride of our clan. Seeing you grow makes your uncle happy."
His tone was warm.
His eyes were even warmer.
But Ji Wuyuan could see the subtle calculation behind that warmth, like a snake hiding in grass.
In his last life, he had never noticed it.
Now, it was obvious.
Ji Wuyuan stepped forward and took his place among the younger generation.
Several cousins and clan disciples were present as well. Some looked at him with admiration, some with jealousy, and some with complicated expressions. The favored young master was a blessing to the clan, but he was also a wall others could never climb.
The Patriarch's voice echoed through the hall, calm but carrying authority.
"Today's meeting is about the city's upcoming Autumn Tribute."
Autumn Tribute.
Azure Sun City was under the jurisdiction of a larger region called Crimson River Prefecture. Every year, all major families and sect branches in the city had to offer tribute—spirit stones, pills, materials, and sometimes even talented youths—to the prefecture's representative.
It was both an obligation and an opportunity.
If the tribute was good, the clan could gain favor, protection, and sometimes even a recommendation into a higher-level sect.
If the tribute was poor…
The clan would be squeezed, suppressed, and forced to bleed.
The First Elder spoke in a hoarse voice.
"The city lord's mansion is already preparing. The Luo Clan and Bai Clan have been restless. They likely intend to use the tribute to curry favor with the prefecture and suppress us."
A murmur spread through the hall.
The Luo Clan and Bai Clan were the Ji Clan's biggest competitors. They weren't as old as the Ji Clan, but they had been rising rapidly in recent years. The Bai Clan had a connection to a small sect, and the Luo Clan had money—lots of it.
Ji Wuyuan's eyes remained calm.
He remembered this.
In his last life, the Autumn Tribute had been the first time the protagonist's "fate" began showing.
A mysterious treasure appeared in the tribute market.
A broken jade slip.
The protagonist had casually picked it up, only to discover it contained a hidden cultivation technique. That technique had been the beginning of his unstoppable rise.
Ji Wuyuan didn't know whether the same treasure would appear again.
But he knew one thing.
If fate existed, it would repeat patterns.
And patterns could be hunted.
The Second Elder smiled gently and spoke.
"Patriarch, I have already made preparations. The Black Sand Pavilion has offered us a rare batch of spirit herbs—Moonheart Grass and Crimson Vein Ginseng. With these, our tribute will surpass the Luo and Bai clans."
The hall fell silent for a breath.
Black Sand Pavilion.
A name that shouldn't be spoken openly in the main hall.
Even the Patriarch's expression darkened slightly.
Ji Zhenhai's voice was cold.
"Second Elder. The Ji Clan does not deal with such filthy forces."
Ji Mingxiu sighed as if troubled.
"Patriarch, I understand your concerns. But the tribute is crucial. The prefecture's representative does not care how we obtain resources. They only care about results."
His tone was sincere.
Reasonable.
Even persuasive.
Many elders hesitated.
Because he wasn't wrong.
In the cultivation world, morality was often a decoration.
The strong wrote the rules.
The weak followed them.
Ji Wuyuan lowered his gaze slightly, hiding the coldness in his eyes.
So you're already laying the foundation.
Even in this life, the Second Elder was pushing the clan toward Black Sand Pavilion.
Not because he cared about tribute.
Because it gave him a channel to outsiders.
A channel to betrayal.
Ji Wuyuan's lips curved faintly, still gentle.
He raised his head and spoke softly, voice respectful.
"Father, may I speak?"
The Patriarch looked at him.
"Speak."
Ji Wuyuan's expression was modest, almost hesitant, as if he didn't want to offend anyone.
"I believe Second Uncle's intentions are for the clan's good. However… if we rely on Black Sand Pavilion, even if we win this tribute, our reputation may suffer. The prefecture may not care, but the other clans will use it against us."
Ji Mingxiu's smile stiffened for a fraction of a moment.
Only a fraction.
Then it returned.
"Wuyuan speaks wisely," he said warmly. "But reputation cannot protect us from suppression."
Ji Wuyuan nodded, appearing thoughtful.
"That is true. But perhaps we can achieve both. We can prepare a tribute strong enough to win, without openly relying on Black Sand Pavilion."
The First Elder's brows lifted slightly.
"And how do you propose that?"
Ji Wuyuan smiled, eyes bright like a child eager to contribute.
"I have heard that the Spirit Beast Mountain has opened recently. Many rare herbs and spirit beasts appear during this season. If the clan sends a team to hunt and gather, we can obtain resources directly."
The hall stirred.
Spirit Beast Mountain was dangerous.
But it was also a gold mine.
The Luo and Bai clans often sent teams there.
The Patriarch's gaze sharpened.
"Spirit Beast Mountain is not safe. Bandits, rogue cultivators, and even demonic beasts lurk there. Sending you would be too risky."
Ji Wuyuan lowered his head slightly.
"I would not go alone. The clan can send elders or guards. I only wish to contribute."
His tone was sincere.
Humble.
But inside, his mind was already moving.
Spirit Beast Mountain.
In his last life, the protagonist had gone there at thirteen and obtained his first major inheritance.
But if Ji Wuyuan went earlier…
If he set the trap earlier…
Then fate would have nowhere to land.
Ji Mingxiu's eyes flickered.
He smiled.
"A good suggestion. Patriarch, perhaps we can send a small team. It will also temper the younger generation."
Ji Wuyuan's heart laughed coldly.
Of course you agree.
If the team died, the Patriarch's line would weaken.
If the team succeeded, the clan's resources would increase and Ji Mingxiu could claim credit.
Either way, he benefited.
Ji Zhenhai's expression remained stern.
After a moment, he nodded.
"Very well. We will send a team to Spirit Beast Mountain. But Wuyuan will not go."
Ji Wuyuan's expression remained obedient, but he spoke again.
"Father… I wish to go."
The hall froze.
Even the First Elder looked at him with surprise.
An eight-year-old?
Spirit Beast Mountain was a place where Qi Refining cultivators died.
Ji Wuyuan met his father's gaze, calm and sincere.
"I am the clan's young master. If I cannot face danger, how can I lead the clan in the future? Moreover… I have been cultivating diligently. I wish to see my limits."
His words were bold.
But not arrogant.
They sounded like determination.
The Patriarch stared at him for a long time.
Then he sighed.
"You truly are my son."
He glanced at the First Elder.
The First Elder's voice was heavy.
"If the young master insists, we can allow it, but only with strict protection. He must not be separated from the guards."
Ji Mingxiu smiled warmly.
"A wise decision."
Ji Wuyuan bowed again.
"Thank you, Father. Thank you, First Elder."
His face looked grateful.
Inside, he was already sharpening his knife.
That night, Ji Wuyuan sat in his room again, the War Archive panel hovering faintly in his vision.
He had already eaten dinner with the clan, smiled politely, and acted like the perfect child.
Now, he could finally remove the mask.
His expression turned cold.
Wei Yan's shadow flickered beside the window.
"Master," Wei Yan said quietly. "The Second Elder's people have begun preparing their own team. They intend to send two trusted guards to accompany you."
Ji Wuyuan's eyes narrowed.
So he wants eyes on me.
Not protection.
Surveillance.
He tapped his finger lightly on the bed.
"Let them."
Wei Yan hesitated for the first time.
"Master… it is dangerous."
Ji Wuyuan's lips curved faintly.
"Danger is useful. It reveals people's true faces."
Wei Yan bowed his head.
"As Master commands."
Ji Wuyuan looked at the War Archive.
Merit: 0.
He needed merit.
He needed his first step toward unlocking the Nightveil.
And Spirit Beast Mountain would be the perfect place to begin.
He spoke calmly.
"Tomorrow, follow us in the shadows. If I give the signal, eliminate anyone who tries to harm me."
Wei Yan's eyes were calm.
"Yes."
Ji Wuyuan closed his eyes.
In his mind, the future was already unfolding.
At fifteen, the protagonist would arrive.
At fifteen, fate would begin shining.
But by then…
Ji Wuyuan would already have claws.
He would already have shadows.
And the Ji Clan would no longer be a stepping stone.
It would be a hunting ground.
[War Archive Notification]
A faint line appeared in his vision.
[First hunting ground identified: Spirit Beast Mountain.][Merit gain possible.][Nightveil Token progress: awaiting first blood.]
Ji Wuyuan's smile was faint.
Cold.
Satisfied.
He whispered softly.
"Good."