In the dimly lit residence of the clan leader, the air was heavy with the lingering tension of the day's events. Yan Shengtian sat at the head of a grand table, his expression stern and unreadable. A single candle flickered beside him, casting long shadows on the walls, as he waited for his children.
Moments later, Yan Ling and Yan Xingtian entered the room. Yan Ling's face was as cold and detached as ever, her piercing gaze betraying no hint of emotion. Yan Xingtian, on the other hand, wore a calm and composed expression, exuding a quiet confidence that matched his steady demeanor.
Yan Shengtian regarded them for a moment, his sharp eyes taking in their presence. He leaned forward slightly, folding his hands atop the table. "Now that the last piece of burden has been lifted from the clan," he began, his voice firm and resolute, "our path to greatness is finally clear. Without unnecessary distractions, we can focus on what truly matters—our rise to power."
Yan Ling remained silent, her expression unchanging, though a subtle shift in her stance hinted at her thoughts. Yan Xingtian nodded solemnly, his calm demeanor unwavering as he responded, "Yes, Father. We understand."
"There is only one year and eight months left before the competition at the Sky Clear Sect," Yan Shengtian continued, his tone growing more intense. "It will be a grand event, one that will bring together the most promising talents from across the land. This is our chance to show the world the strength of the Yan Clan, to rise above all others. I expect both of you to dedicate yourselves entirely to your cultivation. There can be no room for failure."
Both Yan Ling and Yan Xingtian bowed slightly, replying in unison, "Yes, Father."
Yan Shengtian leaned back in his chair, his expression softening just enough to reveal a glimmer of pride. "The item of our ancestors—" he paused, his voice tinged with regret, "—was stolen by that treacherous Yan Hong. Had it remained in our possession, it would have ensured your rapid growth, an advantage none could rival."
A shadow passed over Yan Ling's face at the mention of Yan Hong, but she said nothing.
Yan Shengtian sighed, shaking his head. "No matter. Even without it, you both have the potential to outshine everyone. Your talent, combined with the resources of the clan, is more than enough. Remember, the pride and future of the Yan Clan rest on your shoulders."
"Yes, Father," Yan Xingtian said, his voice steady and filled with resolve. Yan Ling, ever stoic, simply nodded in agreement.
"Good," Yan Shengtian said, his voice regaining its commanding tone. "Go now. Practice hard and prepare yourselves. I want no distractions, no missteps. The honor of our clan depends on it."
The siblings bowed respectfully before turning to leave the room. As they walked out, Yan Ling's cold expression remained unchanged, though her mind churned with unspoken thoughts. Yan Xingtian, walking beside her, seemed calm, but his eyes held a glint of determination.
As the door closed behind them, Yan Shengtian sat back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the flickering candlelight. His mind was already racing ahead, envisioning the future where the Yan Clan would finally reclaim its glory.
As Yan Ling and Yan Xingtian walked down the quiet corridor of the clan leader's residence, their footsteps echoed in the still air. Yan Ling's face remained as cold and unreadable as ever, her piercing gaze fixed straight ahead.
Yan Xingtian, however, glanced at her curiously. He had noticed her growing silence in recent days, her detached demeanor that even he, her younger brother, couldn't decipher.
"Elder Sister," he began, his tone casual but probing, "what are you planning to do next? Now that he is gone, there's nothing holding us back anymore. It's easy to focus on cultivation without distractions." He paused for a moment, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "That trash left the clan. Finally, everything will go smoothly for us."
Yan Ling didn't respond.
Her expression didn't shift—not a single flicker of emotion passed over her face. She walked ahead in silence, her strides steady and deliberate. Yan Xingtian's brow furrowed slightly, the lack of reaction unsettling him.
"Sister?" he tried again, his voice a little firmer now, as though coaxing her out of her reverie.
Still, she didn't reply.
Instead, her pace quickened. Without a word, she abruptly turned and headed toward her quarters. Yan Xingtian stopped in his tracks, blinking in surprise as he watched her retreating back.
The door to her room opened and closed with a deliberate finality, the sound reverberating down the hallway.
"What's wrong with Sister?" Yan Xingtian muttered to himself, his voice laced with confusion. "She's been acting so strange these days."
Shaking his head, he let out a low sigh and turned away, his hands clasped behind his back as he walked off toward his own chambers. Yet, the thought lingered in his mind—something about Yan Ling's behavior didn't feel right.
---
Inside Yan Ling's Room
The room was dim, with only a faint golden glow from a single lantern casting long shadows across the walls. Yan Ling stood motionless near the window, her hands clenched tightly at her sides. Her cold facade, so carefully maintained, began to crumble the moment she was alone.
Her chest rose and fell unevenly as memories flooded her mind. Each image was sharp, vivid, and unrelenting. She saw Yan Zi as a boy, running beside her in the courtyard, his laughter echoing through the halls. She remembered the nights they had spent stargazing, dreaming of their futures, sharing secrets no one else knew.
But now, all those memories were overshadowed by the image of him leaving—his head held high despite the blood staining his face and the humiliation weighing on his shoulders.
Her hands trembled, her fingers curling into fists as she tried to suppress the storm brewing within her. Why does it hurt so much? she thought, biting her lower lip to keep it from quivering.
The moonlight streaming through the window illuminated her reflection in the glass. Her usually composed face now revealed the cracks in her mask—furrowed brows, trembling lips, and tears welling up in her eyes.
He's gone. He's gone because I… She swallowed hard, unable to finish the thought.
Moving to the edge of her bed, she sank down, her hands gripping the edge tightly. Her mind was a whirlwind of questions, doubts, and emotions she didn't dare name.
Have we truly done the right thing? she asked herself, closing her eyes tightly. This is for the clan. For Father. For everything we've worked for. It's what had to be done… right?
The more she tried to convince herself, the more hollow her reasoning felt.
In the dimly lit chamber of Elder Gong, the air was heavy with an ominous tension. Shadows flickered across the walls as the light from a single lantern swayed gently, casting an eerie glow over the room. Elder Gong sat at the head of the table, his expression cold and calculating. His sharp, narrow eyes gleamed with malice, and the smirk on his face was nothing short of sinister.
Before him stood five or six men, each one cloaked in dark robes, their faces partially obscured by the flickering light. They were his most trusted lackeys, men who had long sworn loyalty to him and carried out his underhanded deeds without question.
Elder Gong leaned forward, his voice low but dripping with venom. "Now that he has left the clan," he began, his lips curling into a twisted smile, "we finally have a chance to rid ourselves of that pest."
One of the men stepped forward, his tone cautious but eager. "Elder Gong, do you mean… Yan Zi?"
Elder Gong chuckled darkly, leaning back in his chair. He folded his hands, his long fingers tapping rhythmically against each other. "Who else? That wretched boy... the son of Yan Hong. For years, I've waited for this moment. The crimes of the father will finally be paid in full by the son."
He paused, his eyes narrowing into slits. "That boy humiliated me today, stood there as if he was innocent. As if his very existence wasn't a stain on the honor of this clan. But now," he said, his tone growing colder, "he's no longer under the clan's protection. Out there, he's nothing. No rules will shield him. No one will hear him scream."
Another man, his voice gruff and eager, asked, "What are your orders, Elder Gong?"
Elder Gong rose from his seat, his robes billowing slightly as he moved. The faint sound of his boots against the wooden floor echoed in the silent room. He walked to the window, gazing out into the dark night, his expression a mixture of triumph and bloodlust.
"Find him," he commanded, his voice sharp and authoritative. "Track him down before he can settle anywhere or gather his strength. And when you find him…"
He turned to face them, his smirk widening into a wicked grin. "Kill him. Make it clean, but make it swift. The son of Yan Hong will die before he has a chance to become a threat."
The men bowed their heads immediately, murmuring in unison, "We will not fail, Elder Gong."
Elder Gong nodded, his expression satisfied. "Good. Leave no trace, and leave no witnesses. His death must seem like the result of his own foolishness, not a deliberate act of the clan."
The men turned to leave, their dark robes billowing as they disappeared into the shadows.
Elder Gong stood alone in his chamber now, the grin still plastered on his face. He poured himself a cup of wine, the liquid shimmering in the faint light.
"To Yan Hong," he muttered, raising the cup mockingly. "Your sins were too great to go unpunished. And now, your son will pay the price. Hahaha!"
His laughter echoed through the empty chamber, a chilling sound that seemed to seep into the walls.