Qin Wuye's eyes narrowed as the last remnants of the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an orange glow over the village. It was a peaceful scene — almost idyllic, a far cry from the brutal world he had left behind. But peace was a fleeting thing, a mask that concealed the deep currents of strife running beneath the surface.
The world he had returned to was one defined by strength. In this land, power was the ultimate currency. Those with talent, whether in martial prowess, knowledge, or influence, held dominion over the weak. And those who lacked power were cast aside, trampled beneath the feet of the ambitious.
He had been born into such a world, where nothing came without a price. His uncle and aunt were the perfect embodiments of this philosophy. Opportunists through and through, they played the game of politics and power with ruthless precision. They were not above manipulating their own family if it meant securing their place in the ever-shifting tides of power.
As the eldest son, Qin Wuye had inherited a responsibility — one that many would envy, and others would despise. But he did not seek to be loved or feared in this life, not yet. For now, he would let them think he was nothing more than a precocious child with a silver tongue.
He had learned that appearances were everything. The world was a stage, and he was but an actor — but an actor who could play the part so convincingly that no one would suspect the truth.
As he gazed out into the night, the world seemed vast, the possibilities endless. The rules of the game were simple: Survive. Outlast. Ascend.
And one day, the world would know Qin Wuye's name. And when that day came, none would dare to stand in his way.