The antechamber to Matriarch Feng's private chambers was a place where power felt like a physical pressure, a tangible gravity that forced you to straighten your spine and lower your voice. The air, thick with the scent of sandalwood polished over centuries, smelled of secrets and an authority so ancient it seemed to have solidified into the very stone. Xiao Jin and Xiao Hong stood waiting, the former's contained impatience and the latter's cold composure clashing in a silent battle of wills.
Finally, the imposing dark wood doors, which looked as if they hadn't been opened in a decade, slid open without the slightest sound. Matriarch Feng was seated with a cup of steaming tea before her, its bitter aroma of ginseng and earth filling the room.
"Young Master Jin, Young Master Hong," she said, her voice as flat and sharp as a shard of obsidian. She did not offer them a seat. "To what do I owe the honor of your visit?"
"Matriarch Feng," Hong began, his courteous smile a masterpiece of empty diplomacy, as perfect as it was false. "My brother and I have been away on a long journey for the good of the clan. We heard rumors of our sister's... remarkable progress and wished to congratulate her in person. As family, it is our duty to support one another."
The Matriarch took a slow, deliberate sip of tea, a gesture that stretched the silence to the breaking point. She set the cup down with a soft click that echoed in the room like a gavel strike.
"'Family,'" she repeated, savoring the word as if it were an exotic poison. "How curious that you remember that concept now, after years of such... efficient neglect. The last time either of you visited the Silent Bamboo Pavilion was to mock her failure."
Xiao Jin's face twisted into a sneer of rage.
"Watch your words, old woman!" he snapped, his Qi beginning to stir. "We are the sons of the Sect Master. Our sister—"
"Your sister," Feng interrupted, her hawk-like eyes locking onto him. The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. There was no Qi in her gaze, only an authority so ancient and absolute that Jin's martial power felt insignificant, like a child throwing a tantrum. He felt naked, his power a useless bravado. "Your sister, until recently, was nothing more than a ghost in your strategic calculations. Now that she is interesting, you suddenly remember your blood ties? Curiosity, Young Masters, has a price."
Hong, seeing that his brother's brute force was a useless tool on this battlefield, intervened with his studied calm.
"A price, Matriarch?"
"One hundred gold coins. Each," Feng decreed, her face as impassive as an ice statue. "For one hour of her time. Consider it an investment in your... family relations. Or as the cost of satisfying your sudden and convenient curiosity."
The humiliation was like a slap of icy air. To pay to see their own sister! As if she were a high-class courtesan! Jin was about to explode, to flip the table and demand respect. But Hong's sharp, warning gaze stopped him. Defeated before the battle had even begun, he gave a stiff nod.
With sharp movements, they produced two heavy, brocaded silk pouches and placed them on the table. The dull clink of gold was the only sound—the sound of their pride being priced and purchased.
"Excellent," the Matriarch said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. It was the smile of a predator that had just collected its tribute. "The gate to the Silent Bamboo Pavilion is open to you. Don't keep her waiting. Your hour begins now."
When the brothers arrived at the pavilion, the place itself seemed to have been reborn. They remembered a neglected garden, an atmosphere of loneliness and failure. Now, the air vibrated with a pure vitality; the plants seemed greener, the small stream murmured more joyfully. It was as if the awakening of its occupant had awakened the pavilion itself.
And then they saw her.
Xiao Yue stood in the center of the clearing. Her red hair, tied back in a high ponytail, was a controlled flame that waved gently in the breeze. With her eyes closed, she was practicing a form of Qi control that neither of them had ever seen. A dozen bamboo leaves levitated around her, spinning in a slow, perfect dance, like a miniature planetary system. Her once-pale skin now had a subtle glow, like the finest jade. Her posture was not that of a warrior, but of a queen in her garden, in absolute command of her surroundings. She was no longer the broken, forgotten girl. She was an expert forged in an unknown fire, a tangible force whose presence pressed down on the air.
The shock silenced them both. It was like watching a sparrow transform into a phoenix.
But their stupor was overshadowed when their gazes drifted to a second figure in the courtyard. Sitting on the grass, humming a cheerful tune while tending to strange herbs growing in clay pots, was another woman.
And what a woman she was.
She was a vision of wild, feline beauty. Her hair, the same fiery red as her three fox tails that swayed lazily behind her like living flames, framed a face of sharp features and amber eyes that shone with a cunning intelligence and an untamed life.
Xiao Jin felt a gut punch. Lust—raw, primitive, and overwhelming—clouded his judgment. Every part of her, from the curve of her back to the teasing smile playing on her lips as she spoke to a flower, was an invitation to a chaos he desperately wished to explore. She was the most exotic and desirable creature he had ever seen.
Hong, on the other hand, was breathless. His analytical mind, always cold and calculating, short-circuited. It wasn't just beauty he saw; it was perfection. The way her long, pale fingers caressed a leaf, the curve of her neck, the absolute harmony of her existence... It was like beholding a divine work of art, one his mind could neither categorize nor comprehend. The word "harmony" took on a new meaning. He had to swallow to moisten his suddenly dry throat.
Recovering as best they could from the double shock, they approached Xiao Yue, their faces a mask of forced cordiality.
"Little sister," Hong said, his voice a little tighter than usual, his eyes involuntarily drifting toward the enigmatic figure. "You look... radiant. We've come to congratulate you on your victory in the assessment. An impressive achievement."
"Very impressive," Jin grunted, though his eyes were fixed on the three-tailed woman, raking over her with a shamelessness that did not go unnoticed by the kitsune, who gave him a fanged smile that he misinterpreted as flirting.
It was then that Jin's gaze fell on a third figure emerging from inside the pavilion with a tray. A scrawny young man with black hair, dressed in simple clothes and without a single ounce of Qi fluctuation. A servant.
The offense was immediate and visceral. What was a commoner, a complete nobody, doing in this place? In the presence of his sister, now a prodigy, and of... that red-haired goddess?
"You!" Jin barked, his voice like thunder, pointing at Kenji with his chin. "Get out of here! This is no place for servants. You stain the air with your presence!"
Kenji didn't flinch. Avoiding unnecessary conflict was the most efficient protocol. He analyzed the situation: two arrogant "young masters"; a direct confrontation was a waste of resources. He nodded briefly, an almost imperceptible dip of his head, and began to turn to leave.
"He's not going anywhere."
Xiao Yue's voice was like the crack of an icy whip. Cold, sharp, and filled with an authority the brothers had never heard from her. In a fluid motion, she moved between Jin and Kenji, her small body becoming an immovable shield.
"Kenji is my guest," she declared, her golden eyes burning with a defiant light. "And in my pavilion, my guests stay. If you have a problem with that, the problem is yours, not mine."
"Your guest?" Hong scoffed, joining the fray with his usual condescension. "He's a servant, Xiao Yue. There's an order to things. His presence here is inappropriate."
"The order that is convenient for you," she retorted, her mind working with the cold logic Kenji had taught her. "An order where blood ties only matter when they can be exploited. Kenji has shown me more loyalty and helped me more than the two of you have in my entire life. He stays. End of discussion."
The argument escalated. The brothers' arguments about hierarchy, status, and decorum crashed against Xiao Yue's cold, cutting logic. She returned every argument with a precision that left them speechless. She was winning. And that, for Xiao Jin, was intolerable.
Exasperated, humiliated, his face red with fury, he decided to end the debate the only way he knew how.
"Someone so weak is not worthy of being near you!" he roared, his patience finally broken.
And he lunged. His fist, wrapped in the dense, heavy Qi of the initial stage of spiritual connection, shot toward Kenji—a devastating blow meant to erase the insignificant servant from existence and reassert his dominance.
For Xiao Yue, time shattered.
A crisis of fury, a protective instinct so pure and violent that she had never felt it before, exploded within her. The world slowed to an oil painting. She saw Jin's fist advancing, every muscle tensing, every swirl of Qi spinning. She saw the smug look on her brother's face. She saw the surprise just dawning in Kenji's eyes, who hadn't even had time to process the attack.
Not while I'm here. Not him.
The thought was a thunderclap in her soul.
In the next instant, she was no longer where she had been. Her body moved with a speed that defied physics, becoming a red-and-gold blur. She appeared beside Kenji, her wooden sword in her hand like a natural extension of her own will.
And then, she attacked.
It wasn't a strike; it was a cascade. A series of impacts so rapid they seemed like a single, fluid motion. Four precise, almost delicate, taps on Jin's wrists and ankles. Each touch, imbued with the Disruptive Pulse she now mastered, was a vibration that sought not to break, but to corrupt.
Jin felt a series of catastrophic dissonances. The torrent of Qi he had gathered in his fist suddenly disconnected, like a river whose course is cut by an invisible dam. Worse, the energy, with nowhere to go, rebelled, flowing backward and causing a sharp, stabbing pain in his meridians.
And then, the sensation. The most terrifying of his life. His limbs felt... dead. It wasn't paralysis; it was an absence. As if the life force, the Qi that animated them, had abandoned them completely. Control vanished. His arm, charged with power an instant before, fell limply. His legs buckled as if they were made of cloth.
With a choked cry of pure disbelief, Xiao Jin, the proud and powerful prince of the Silver Cloud Clan, fell to his knees, gasping, his attack dissipated into nothing.
He looked at his hands, which refused to fully obey him, and then at his sister. She watched him with a coldness that froze his blood. Her golden eyes no longer held her earlier anger; now there was only the final judgment of a higher power, a power he could not comprehend.
"What... what have you done to me?" he whispered, his voice choked with astonishment.
And for the first time in his life, an emotion he had never felt for his sister, or for anyone, blossomed in Xiao Jin's heart: a pure and absolute fear.
Hong was petrified. His normally nimble mind was blank. It had all been too fast, too... impossible. He hadn't seen a technique; he had seen a terrifying miracle, a violation of the fundamental laws of cultivation.
Just then, a cold breeze swept across the backs of their necks, raising the hair on their arms.
At the entrance to the pavilion, with her regal bearing and her face like a mask of ice, stood Matriarch Feng. Her presence was more intimidating than any display of Qi.
"Your hour is up," she said, her voice an unappealable sentence. "Leave."
"I can't... I can't feel my body!" Jin protested, trying to stand without success, his panic overcoming his pride.
Xiao Yue walked over to him. Without a word, she gave him a gentle pat on the forehead.
A warm, controlled current flowed through Jin, reconnecting his meridians, dispelling the dissonance like sunlight burning away fog. Strength and control returned to his limbs in an instant. He was so stunned that he forgot his anger. It had been real, yet she had undone it as easily as she had caused it. The level of control she possessed was, simply, terrifying.
The brothers retreated in silence. Jin, trembling, touched his limbs as if unsure they were his own, not daring to look at his sister. Hong, his mind a whirlwind, trying to analyze a variable that broke all his equations—a variable named Xiao Yue.
The balance of power in the Silver Cloud Clan had not shifted. It had been shattered forever. And in the clearing, Kenji, the otherworldly genius, watched as his most important investment had not only learned to fight, but had become his fiercest protector.