The kiss lasted exactly one point three seconds. A nanosecond in the history of the universe; an eternity for Kenji Tanaka's operating system.
The contact was ephemeral: soft, warm, and with an unmistakable scent of jasmine and orchids. Then, Xiao Yue pulled away, and the world—or at least Kenji's personal universe—rebooted with a critical system error.
He remained motionless, petrified. His hand, pale and economical in its gestures, rose with robotic slowness to touch the cheek where her lips had been. His skin was burning, but it wasn't the residual heat of Xiao Yue's Qi. It was sensory overload, a data stream for which his brain—a supercomputer capable of managing financial empires and restructuring global supply chains—had absolutely no protocol, no flowchart, no user manual.
Analysis failed.
Kenji was faced with a variable he could not process. The sensation—overwhelming, bewildering, and strangely pleasant—was that of a complete and total short circuit. The Golem had received an update for which it was not prepared.
Xiao Yue watched him, her own heart hammering against her ribs like a war drum. The blush on her cheeks rivaled the color of her hair in the sunset. It had been an impulse, an act of pure gratitude and a new, dangerous emotion she didn't dare to name. She expected him to recoil, for his face to become the mask of professional neutrality she knew so well. She expected a logical reprimand about the inefficiency of displays of affection in a work environment.
But Kenji did none of that. He just stood there, hand on his cheek, his black eyes—normally pools of unfathomable analysis—now wide with an expression of absolute and utter bewilderment. It was like watching a mountain try to comprehend the concept of being tickled.
And in that moment, Xiao Yue realized something. She had found an exploit. A zero-day vulnerability in her consultant's operating system. A mischievous smile, the first truly confident and playful one of her life, spread across her face.
"Looks like the CEO needs to reboot his system," she whispered, more to herself than to him.
Her voice seemed to pull him from his trance. Kenji slowly lowered his hand. He didn't say anything about the kiss. He didn't categorize it. He didn't analyze it. He simply filed it away in a new, strange folder in his mind labeled, "Non-quantifiable data: requires further observation."
"The... the strategic alliance with the Director of R&D has been formalized," Kenji finally said, his voice slightly hoarser than usual, clinging to corporate language like a drowning man to a raft. "The next step is the production phase for the new alchemical assets. We must establish a secure communication channel and a raw material delivery protocol."
Xiao Yue smiled. They were back to the plan, but something fundamental had shifted. The power dynamic, the invisible barrier between consultant and asset, had dissolved in the heat of a simple kiss. They were no longer just partners. They were Kenji and Xiao Yue.
Just as he was about to unroll a new scroll to diagram the "Confidential Supply Acquisition Protocol," the distant but unmistakable sound of a bronze horn echoed from the clan's main gate. A sound reserved only for the return of members from the Sect Master's direct lineage.
"It seems the hostile board of directors has returned from their business trip," Xiao Yue said, the irony in her voice now tinged with a new confidence.
Kenji paused, his head tilting slightly as he processed the new data. "The arrival of brothers Xiao Jin and Xiao Hong. A predictable event that introduces new risk variables into our operating environment. Their presence will increase the clan's internal volatility." He turned to her, his expression returning to that of the chief strategist. "Maintain a low profile. Continue with the stabilization protocol that Xiu Mei designed. I will handle data collection. It's time to see how the market reacts to the new acquisitions."
---
The main gates of the Silver Cloud Clan, two massive slabs of ironwood reinforced with bands of spiritual silver, swung open with a deep, solemn groan. The dusty, parched air of the Dry Bone Road was instantly displaced by the pure, clean Qi of the mountain—a change so abrupt it was almost violent.
An expectant silence fell over the vast reception courtyard. Disciples in training halted their movements, their swords halfway through a swing. Servants crossing with their burdens moved aside, their heads bowed in a show of absolute respect. All eyes were fixed on the black sandalwood carriage that advanced with an imposing grace, pulled by two enormous Earth-Scale Beasts whose snorts were like the sound of grinding rocks.
The carriage stopped right in the center of the courtyard. Eight elite guards dismounted with perfect synchronization, their faces impassive under a thin layer of road dust. One of them, the captain, stepped forward and opened the door.
The first to descend was Xiao Jin. He did so with a leap, landing with a dull, solid thud that denoted his power. He was a storm contained in human form, his build robust, his energy dense and palpable. He impatiently brushed the dust from his silk robes, his eyes sweeping the courtyard with a gaze that didn't see people, but obstacles.
The second, Xiao Hong, descended with the elegance of a crane. Slender, with the long fingers of a scholar, he moved as if he were floating. His robe, a pristine white, seemed to repel the dust from the journey. A polite, glacial smile formed on his lips as he observed the assembled crowd, but his sharp eyes did not smile; they analyzed, calculated, judged.
Two sect Elders, with their long white beards and ceremonial robes, stepped forward to greet them.
"Young Master Jin, Young Master Hong," the lead Elder said, his voice a respectful murmur. "Welcome back. We trust your journey to secure the clan's resources in Ironrock City was fruitful."
"It was tedious," Jin grunted, his voice a rumble that made a nearby disciple flinch. "Too many words and not enough action. But the spiritual steel ore is secured."
"A successful negotiation requires patience, Elder. A concept my brother is still processing," Hong added, his voice soft but cutting, with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "The clan's interests have been protected. You may rest easy."
The reception was a model of hierarchy and power. The disciples bowed, the Elders smiled with deference. They were the princes returning to their court.
However, one figure remained motionless, observing the scene from the entrance of the administrative pavilion. Matriarch Feng, her back as straight as a steel rod and her face an icy mask, did not join the fawning crowd.
As the brothers, flanked by the Elders, walked past her, their gazes met.
Jin simply ignored her with a barely concealed disdain. The head of the servants was beneath his notice.
Hong, however, paused for an instant. "Matriarch Feng," he said, his smile turning a bit sharper. "I hope the domestic management has proceeded without incident in our absence." The subtext was clear: I hope you and your army of insects haven't caused any trouble.
The Matriarch bowed her head, a gesture so minimal it was almost an insult. "Young Master Hong, Young Master Jin," she replied, her voice as cold as the jade in her hairpin. "The clan, as always, endures the absences of its members with stoic efficiency. Nothing has collapsed." The message in return was equally crystalline: You are not needed.
A spark of animosity flashed in Hong's eyes before his courteous mask slipped back into place. He nodded and continued on his way, leaving the Matriarch standing there, a queen of shadows observing the theater of power with ageless patience.
The brothers' destination was the most opulent pavilion in the mansion, Zian's private courtyard. They found him reclining on a lacquered wooden divan, wearing an expression of insulting boredom. He didn't even bother to sit up when they entered.
"Brothers," Zian said, his voice dragging the words with indolence. "I trust your little business trip didn't exhaust you too much. The mortal roads can be so... filthy."
"Elder Brother," Hong greeted, his smile never wavering. "Duty to the clan knows no exhaustion."
"You talked to the parasites from the Black-Steel Guild and came back. You didn't climb a mountain of swords," Jin snorted, dropping into a chair with little grace. "A miserable deal. We should have taken what we needed by force."
Zian finally smiled, a cruel curve on his lips. "Always so direct, Jin. So predictable. Force is a tool, not a universal solution. Sometimes, more... subtle methods are required." He looked at Hong. "But let's put aside your minor affairs. While you were away, we've had more... interesting entertainment here."
Hong raised an eyebrow. "Oh? A new servant rebellion to crush?"
"Something far more unexpected," Zian said, and for the first time, a hint of genuine irritation seeped into his condescending tone. "Our sister. Xiao Yue."
Jin let out a laugh. "Xiao Yue? What did she do? Trip over her own shadow and fall into the lotus pond?"
"If only," Zian muttered, his smile vanishing. He sat up, his expression now serious. "She defeated Shi Teng in the quarterly assessment."
Silence fell over the opulent courtyard. Though they already knew the information, hearing it from the lips of their arrogant older brother was something else entirely. Jin stopped laughing, his face a mask of disbelief. Hong, however, leaned forward, his interest sharpened.
"Shi Teng? 'The Ram'?" Hong asked, his analytical mind activating. "His raw power is at the Middle Stage of the Core Formation Realm. He's an idiot, but a strong idiot. How?"
"That's the million-gold-coin question," Zian said, rising and beginning to pace. "It wasn't with strength. It was... odd. A trick. She used a technique none of the Elders recognized. She didn't block Shi Teng's strike; she... nullified it. As if 'The Ram's' power had vanished into thin air. It was irritatingly precise. Then, she touched him—barely a tap—and Shi Teng's Qi shield cracked. An instant later, he collapsed, his own meridians damaged by his own energy."
He described the scene with forced disdain, but his frustration was palpable. The event defied his understanding of power, and that infuriated him.
"Impossible!" Jin exclaimed. "That useless girl? She must have cheated! She used some forbidden talisman!"
"The Elders checked him. There was nothing," Zian admitted reluctantly. "It was her own skill. A lucky break, no doubt. A parlor trick that worked once."
"A trick that defeats a Jade Ring isn't luck, brother," Hong interjected, his voice quiet but laden with meaning. "It's a new variable. One we don't control. And afterward? Has she continued to display this... 'talent'?"
Zian snorted. "No. There's the proof it was a fluke. My spies say she's returned to her routine. She does nothing but practice the most basic forms, over and over. She hides in her pavilion like the rat she is. It seems her flash of genius has burned out. She's already hit her limit."
"Or she's sharpening a single dagger in the dark instead of brandishing a dull sword in the light," Hong mused, more to himself than to the others. The thought unsettled him. A known threat was manageable; an unpredictable one was dangerous.
The mention of Xiao Yue, however, had ignited a spark in Zian's mind. His humiliation at being unable to explain his subordinate's defeat needed to be rectified. He needed to reassert the natural order of things.
"Luck or not, this anomaly must be corrected," Zian declared, stopping and looking at his brothers. A cruel, calculating smile spread slowly across his face. "The annual sect tournament is approaching. It's the perfect stage."
"You plan to challenge her?" Jin asked, his eyes gleaming with the prospect of justified violence. "You'd crush her like a grape."
"Me? I wouldn't stoop to such a level," Zian said with disdain. "It would be a waste of my time. But the tournament is an opportunity to remind the entire clan, and especially our little sister, of her true place. Perhaps an 'accident' during one of the preliminary matches... Perhaps one of my more... 'enthusiastic' disciples gets a little carried away in the heat of battle. A few broken ribs, a permanently damaged Qi core… It would be an unforgettable lesson about the consequences of flying too close to the sun."
Jin grinned in approval. This was a language he understood.
Hong smiled too, his a thin line of steel. He disliked pointless brutality, but he understood the strategic necessity of removing an unpredictable variable from the game board. If Xiao Yue was a potential threat, no matter how small, it was better to neutralize her before she could grow.
For a moment, the three brothers, normally entangled in their own web of rivalries, found themselves united by a common, cruel goal: to put Xiao Yue in her place.
"Excellent idea, brother," Hong said. "It will be a reminder to everyone that in this clan, lineage and real power are the only assets that matter. Everything else," his gaze drifted for an instant, as if seeing beyond the courtyard to the very structure of the clan, "is simply... background noise."
Zian nodded, satisfied. Order would be restored. His path to the Sect Master's throne would be cleared of any small, annoying pebbles. He didn't see Xiao Yue as a real threat; he saw her as an embarrassment, a stain on his legacy that had to be erased with a public and crushing display of power.
What none of the three princes of the Silver Cloud Clan could imagine was that while they were plotting to eliminate an insignificant pawn, that pawn was cementing an alliance with a strategist from another world. Their goal wasn't simply to survive the tournament, but to execute a hostile takeover. The game for control of the clan had already begun, and they had just made their first move on the wrong board.