Yao Xian looked at Xīng Hé.
She was ready to speak—ready to demand answers, to question why the girl had remained inactive for two months, to suggest she was being childish after receiving punishment. The words were already forming, sharp and precise.
But they died before reaching her lips.
Did she evolve?
Yao Xian stared.
This was absurd. The girl's strong connection to her concept was why she'd been deemed special—that much had been established. But this was something else entirely.
She hadn't seen her representation. Didn't know her concept. Had received no guidance, no instruction, no support.
And yet.
She evolved.
The realization settled with uncomfortable weight.
This girl had gone from valuable to important. From an investment worth protecting to something far more significant. The kind that drew eyes from the highest places. The kind that changed fates.
Yao Xian almost felt bad for her.
Almost.
Because she knew what came next. A natural awakener who evolved without guidance, without representation, without any normal requirements—that wasn't just a tool anymore.
That was a weapon.
And weapons needed to be tamed.
The Transcendents who watched over this realm would ensure the girl's loyalty through whatever means necessary. Her life was no longer her own—had probably stopped being her own the moment she'd awakened naturally.
But now that fact would become undeniable.
Heiyun has been silent. For too long.
The Eminence hadn't made contact in months. Hadn't issued orders, hadn't demanded updates. For all she knew, there could be a battle between Transcendents happening in some higher space right now. The realm itself could be breached, and none of them would know until too late.
This is what happens when your potential is obvious before you have the power to make it yours.
You become a target. A prize. A thing to be claimed.
Yao Xian opened her mouth to speak—to retort, to assert control, to remind this child of her place.
But her own past crashed down instead.
Two thousand years.
The weight pressed against her consciousness like a physical force. Memories she'd buried, feelings she'd forgotten, a self she'd left behind so long ago it might as well have belonged to someone else.
She too had shined once.
Different time. Different life. But she'd been special. Had drawn eyes far greater than herself.
And now?
An Attuned attendant. Bound. Watching generations rise and fall, grow and die. A witness to centuries of suffering, unable to change any of it.
Something stirred in her chest.
Unfamiliar. Uncomfortable.
A tear formed at the corner of her eye—unexpected, unwanted.
It evaporated before it could fall.
The heat of her own body—or something else—burned it away before it could complete its descent. But the feeling remained. The ghost of the tear. The memory of what it had almost been.
She looked at Xīng Hé.
A young girl. Snow-white hair. Evolved features. Red-rimmed eyes that spoke of a sleepless night and emotions she probably didn't fully understand.
A young girl who didn't know that everyone around her was a wolf in disguise.
For just a moment, Yao Xian saw herself.
Not who she was now. Who she had been. Before the binding. Before the centuries. Before she'd learned that caring about anything was just another form of pain.
Why am I feeling this?
She hadn't felt like this in a long time. Her concept was pain—it nullified any form of pain depending on her stage. Attachments? She couldn't even feel, so how could she grow attached?
Over the years she'd come to realize: even being null was a form of pain itself.
And yet here she was.
Looking at a child.
Feeling something she couldn't name.
Yao Xian pushed the feeling down.
This was beyond her. The true rulers had their eyes on this girl. Transcendents whose power dwarfed her own, whose plans stretched across centuries. There wasn't much she could do—not really.
But she could do this.
She turned to face the room—the guards and maids still frozen, the chaos of bottles and blood spread across what should have been a formal receiving hall.
"Return to duty. Immediately."
Surprise rippled across their faces.
She hadn't opposed their behavior before. Hadn't objected to the spars, the drinking, the abandonment of posts. The so-called owner of this manor hadn't been fit to lead, so why enforce discipline on her behalf?
They were confused.
Until she spoke again.
"Now that you've evolved to the next stage," Yao Xian said, turning back to Xīng Hé, "why don't we take a look at what you can do?"
Silence.
Then understanding dawned like a cold wind.
Evolved.
She evolved.
Faces went pale. The guard who had explained the situation—who had offered that hollow greeting without genuine respect—suddenly looked as if he'd swallowed something foul. The maids who had laughed were already moving, already retreating toward the door, desperate to be anywhere but here.
They had disrespected someone important.
Someone whose value had just increased beyond anything they'd imagined.
Someone who had the ear of an Eminence.
The servants dispersed rapidly, flooding out toward their positions. No more laughter. No more mockery. Just hurried footsteps of people who had realized, too late, the magnitude of their mistake.
Within moments, the room was empty.
Only Yao Xian and Xīng Hé remained, standing amid scattered bottles and drying blood.
Yao Xian looked at the girl.
The girl looked back.
Neither spoke.
But something had shifted between them—something subtle, undefined. The dynamic had changed, though neither could have said exactly how.
"Come," Yao Xian said finally. "We have much to discuss."
She turned and walked toward the door.
Behind her, Xīng Hé followed.
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End of Chapter 24
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