The Liu Clan training grounds were not grand.
They did not need to be.
A wide stone courtyard. Weapon racks lining the outer wall. Practice dummies reinforced with ironwood cores. A low platform at the center for sparring matches.
Dozens of young disciples gathered beneath the morning sun.
Some wore fine robes, sons of minor branch families.
Others, like Lin Xiao, wore plain cloth.
Difference in fabric.
Difference in status.
Difference in blood.
Lin Xiao stood quietly at the back.
His meridians still felt like sealed corridors.
The golden shard inside his soul pulsed faintly but remained restrained.
Elder Liu Zheng stood before them, hands clasped behind his back.
"From today onward," he announced, "you are provisional disciples of the Liu Clan."
His gaze drifted briefly toward Lin Xiao.
"Your bloodlines will be monitored."
A murmur.
Everyone had heard about the shattered stone.
No one knew the details.
That ignorance made it worse.
"Today," Elder Liu Zheng continued, "we assess basic combat potential. No killing intent. No crippling strikes."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Control is valued more than brute strength."
The words felt deliberate.
Directed.
The disciples split into pairs.
Lin Xiao remained unpaired.
No one stepped toward him.
Blocked meridians.
Weak body.
Strange blood.
Dangerous combination.
A tall youth with broad shoulders finally stepped forward.
Liu Ming.
Second son of a branch family.
Early-stage Body Refinement.
Arrogant.
Ambitious.
"I will test him," Liu Ming said loudly.
Snickers followed.
"He'll collapse in one strike."
Liu Ming stepped onto the central platform and gestured mockingly.
"Come."
Lin Xiao walked forward calmly.
Every step required measured breathing.
He studied Liu Ming's stance.
Basic.
Overconfident.
Relies on force.
Elder Liu Zheng did not interfere.
He wanted to see.
"Begin."
Liu Ming moved first.
Fast for a village-level cultivator.
A straight punch aimed at Lin Xiao's shoulder.
Lin Xiao sidestepped.
Barely.
His body lagged half a beat behind his mind.
The punch grazed his arm, sending sharp pain through bone and muscle.
The crowd laughed.
"Too slow."
Liu Ming pressed forward.
A sweeping kick.
Lin Xiao blocked—
Pain exploded up his forearm.
His bones felt like glass.
He retreated three steps.
The golden shard pulsed.
Heat spread across his chest.
Not yet.
He forced it down.
Control.
Liu Ming grinned.
"So this is the shattered-stone genius?"
He lunged again.
This time, Lin Xiao did not retreat.
He stepped forward instead.
Closing distance.
His palm struck Liu Ming's ribs.
No qi.
Just timing.
Just precision.
The impact surprised Liu Ming more than it hurt.
His balance shifted slightly.
Lin Xiao followed with a low strike toward the knee.
Liu Ming stumbled.
Gasps.
For a brief moment—
Skill over power.
But Liu Ming's face darkened.
He circulated qi openly.
Muscles tightened.
Veins bulged faintly with enhanced strength.
"You think tricks can bridge realms?"
He struck downward.
Lin Xiao raised his arm—
The blow connected.
Something cracked.
His vision blurred instantly.
Pain flared through his entire body.
The seal reacted.
Pressure surged violently.
The golden shard flared.
Not gently.
Not measured.
The air shifted.
Liu Ming froze mid-motion.
A weight descended over the platform.
Invisible.
Ancient.
Oppressive.
The courtyard fell silent.
Elder Liu Zheng's eyes widened.
Liu Ming's knees trembled.
For a fraction of a second—
He saw it.
Behind Lin Xiao.
A vast silhouette.
Golden scales.
Coiling presence.
Uncrowned.
His heartbeat faltered.
Lin Xiao felt the pressure spiraling out of control.
If it continued—
His meridians would rupture.
He gritted his teeth.
Forced the pressure downward.
Inward.
Compress.
Seal.
Blood poured from the corner of his mouth.
The golden aura vanished instantly.
Liu Ming stumbled backward, gasping.
"What… was that?"
Lin Xiao straightened slowly.
His arm trembled.
Possibly fractured.
But he remained standing.
"I lost," Liu Ming muttered hoarsely.
He did not know why he said it.
But some instinct told him—
Continuing would be fatal.
Elder Liu Zheng raised his hand.
"Enough."
The courtyard breathed again.
The weight lifted.
But tension lingered.
Liu Ming avoided Lin Xiao's eyes.
The laughter from earlier was gone.
Replaced by caution.
Fear.
Lin Xiao stepped down from the platform.
Every nerve screamed in agony.
Inside—
The golden shard churned violently.
Angry.
Unrestrained.
"You overstep," Lin Xiao whispered inwardly.
The pressure pushed back.
Wild.
Proud.
Unwilling to bow.
He inhaled slowly.
"This body cannot withstand you."
Silence.
The pressure reduced slightly.
As if… considering.
Elder Liu Zheng approached him quietly.
"You cannot control it," the elder said low enough for only him to hear.
"I will."
"If you do not," the elder replied calmly, "the empire will."
That word lingered.
Empire.
Crimson dragon banners.
Execution fire.
Lin Xiao's eyes darkened.
"I understand."
Elder Liu Zheng studied him for several breaths.
"You will train separately."
Murmurs again.
Separate training meant special observation.
Or containment.
Liu Ming watched from a distance, pale.
He would not challenge Lin Xiao again.
Not until he understood what he had felt.
That evening, alone in a side chamber assigned to him, Lin Xiao sat cross-legged despite the pain.
His arm throbbed.
His meridians burned.
He closed his eyes.
He descended inward.
The golden shard was restless.
Expanding against the seal.
Testing.
You are not free, Lin Xiao thought.
The pressure surged sharply in response.
A mental image formed.
A dragon without crown.
Without throne.
Without chain.
It did not kneel.
It did not ask.
It dominated.
"You were sealed for a reason," Lin Xiao said inwardly.
The pressure pressed against his consciousness.
Challenge.
Not submission.
He understood then.
This was not inherited power alone.
It was will.
The will of something ancient.
Uncrowned.
If he tried to dominate it—
He would lose.
If he surrendered—
He would vanish.
He needed alignment.
Not control.
Not obedience.
But direction.
"You want to rise," Lin Xiao murmured.
Silence.
"But we rise on my terms."
The golden pressure stilled slightly.
Curious.
Testing.
For the first time—
It did not push back immediately.
Outside the chamber, footsteps echoed faintly.
Zhao Kang stood in the corridor.
Watching.
Inside the main hall of the estate, Elder Liu Zheng lit a communication talisman.
The flame burned crimson.
Imperial frequency.
He hesitated.
Then extinguished it.
Not yet.
If he reported too soon—
The empire would seize the boy.
Study him.
Break him.
And if the pressure he felt today truly belonged to something beyond imperial dragon blood…
It was not something to hand over lightly.
"Uncrowned…" the elder murmured quietly.
Far away—
Within Longhuang City—
Long Xiu stood before the black mirror once more.
This time, the ripple was stronger.
Clearer.
Not a fluctuation.
A presence.
He smiled faintly.
"So you begin to move."
He turned toward the imperial palace in the distance.
"The princes sharpen their claws."
"And now…"
"…a dragon without a throne awakens."
His shadow stretched unnaturally long behind him.
The game had begun.
Back in the Liu Clan estate—
Lin Xiao opened his eyes.
Sweat dripped from his jaw.
The pain had not lessened.
But something had shifted.
The golden shard was no longer thrashing blindly.
It was watching him now.
Measuring.
Evaluating.
Good.
Let it watch.
Let it test.
He had walked the Path of Devouring once.
This time—
He would not devour.
He would ascend.
And when the empire finally came—
They would not face a crowned heir.
They would face something far more dangerous.
An Uncrowned Dragon who chose his own throne.