The first light of dawn broke over the Wen Estate, spilling gold across the rooftops and stretching long, pale shadows over the courtyard. I walked along the gravel path, my steps soft, careful, as if disturbing the stones would somehow betray the quiet tension that lingered in the air. The lotus pond glimmered beside me, its water reflecting the rising sun in rippling patterns that danced with the wind. The estate felt muted this morning. Even the birds seemed to sense it, chirping only faintly, their voices hesitant. Servants moved quietly, glancing at me from the corners of their eyes, careful not to draw attention. I could feel the weight of their watchfulness, yet I didn't flinch. Calmness had always been my armor, and it was most necessary now.
I stopped at the edge of the pond, letting my gaze trace the gentle sway of the lilies, the shimmer of dew clinging to the carved statues, and the thin, teasing breeze threading through the pines. Something felt… off. The elders were more alert than usual, their attention sharper, heavier. Perhaps they had sensed the events of yesterday. My lips curved into a faint smile, though it was more curiosity than amusement. Calmness, observation, patience—these were the tools I relied on. I didn't need to react hastily. I only needed to notice.
From the pavilion above, Father's gaze fell on me. Wen Jian's usually composed face carried the faintest trace of worry this morning. "Chen," he called softly, his voice carrying a weight I recognized, "how did the assessment go yesterday?"
I bowed lightly, careful to keep my expression serene. "It went smoothly, Father. Nothing unusual occurred."
He stepped closer, his hand resting briefly on my shoulder. Warm, grounding, familiar. "Are you certain? Nothing… out of the ordinary?"
I lifted my eyes to his, letting a subtle calm settle over my features. "Everything as expected. Do not worry."
His eyes lingered on me, thoughtful, and I felt the unspoken concern beneath his words. The elders, always vigilant, would sense even a slight anomaly. Talent, after all, drew attention, and too much attention often brought danger. "The elders are cunning. They do not forgive mistakes easily. Be careful, Chen."
My gaze softened, but I did not break my composure. "I understand. I will handle whatever comes."
Yesterday had been… different. The inner-clan courtyard had been alive with energy, the clashing of wooden swords and the hum of cultivation filling the air. Elders observed from elevated seats, eyes sharp, calculating, as disciples displayed their skills. I had moved quietly among the mid-grade disciples, my steps deliberate, every motion precise, sharper than before. The subtle enhancements from the hidden orb I had touched the night prior had shifted something fundamental within me.
Whispers among the elders had reached me. Wasn't his talent mid-grade? Why do his movements look sharper today? They murmured, but I did not respond. I let the whispers drift past like wind over still water. Each stance, each swing, each adjustment was measured, revealing nothing, yet the change was clear to those who knew how to look.
The assessment continued, and a stronger disciple approached a wooden training dummy. Splinters flew, echoing sharply across the courtyard. And then, faint, almost imperceptible, a golden glow appeared, forming a small radiant orb that floated into the air. I noticed it immediately. Others didn't. Casually, I reached out, brushing my fingers over it. A surge of warmth traveled through me, and my panel flickered faintly. +17 Luck Points. I didn't upgrade yet, choosing instead to let the energy settle.
The elders remained oblivious. The subtle shift had gone unnoticed, but I felt it—my movements carried an unseen trace of power now, my senses sharpening in response. I could feel the energy flowing, a quiet hum within me that no one else could detect.
Elder Wen Zemin watched from the side, his sharp eyes narrowing. I sensed the instinctive question form on his lips before he whispered to his assistant. "Did he… just gain something?"
The assistant shook his head slowly. "I do not know, Elder. But his movements… something feels different."
Even Zemin could not define the change, yet the instinct was unmistakable. Something had shifted. I had crossed a threshold, and the subtle evolution of my abilities would not remain hidden for long.
Returning to the present, I straightened my robes and exhaled softly. The memory of the hidden orb, the whispers of the elders, the subtle improvement in my skill—they lingered in my mind, but my face remained composed. Calmness had been my anchor since childhood. It was what allowed me to observe, to anticipate, to move without fear. Father's hand lingered on my shoulder a moment longer. "Chen… the elders are not forgiving. If they sense something unnatural, trouble will follow. I fear for you."
I looked up at him, my voice steady. "I understand, Father. I will manage it. There is no need for fear."
A quiet fell over the courtyard. The sunlight caught the tips of the lotus leaves, gilding them. The shadows of the statues stretched long across the path. I felt the weight of the morning pressing down—watchful, careful, precise. One wrong move, one flare of power, and the elders would react. I had to remain measured, always.
The hush was broken by hurried steps. A steward rushed into the courtyard, bowing low. "Young Master Wen Chen, Elder Council requests your presence immediately."
My eyes narrowed, a spark of anticipation flickering within them. Every instinct in me sharpened. The hidden Luck Orb, the subtle improvement in my skills, the suspicious glance of Elder Wen Zemin—they all converged into a web of intrigue. This was no ordinary day. Someone was watching, and the elders were more alert than usual. Every step I took from this point on would matter.
I followed the steward without hesitation. Each footfall was precise, deliberate. The morning sun cast long shadows across the courtyard. Statues and pillars formed shapes that seemed almost alive, as if the estate itself were watching me, waiting to judge. My panel pulsed faintly at my side, a quiet reminder that my abilities had evolved, and that every ounce of calm could now shape outcomes others could not perceive.
The chamber doors loomed ahead. Behind them, a room of power, suspicion, and destiny waited. The elders would test me—not with words alone, but with their scrutiny, their silent calculations, the invisible weight of expectation pressing down. My calm exterior did not falter. Inside, a single thought echoed, steady and unwavering.
I am ready.