The Liang Corporation towered above the city—its steel and glass façade reflecting both power and precision. From the highest floor, where only a select few were permitted, Liang Fei presided over a boardroom lined with success. Yet beneath the gleaming table and sharp suits, tension stirred.
"The Bai Group is circling the power grid contracts," a director stated, his voice clipped. "We're at risk of losing dominance in the southern sectors."
"The Wu family is outpacing us in predictive tech," another added. "We're looking at a two-quarter lag in key AI systems."
The room shifted, eyes drifting toward the head of the table.
Liang Fei leaned back in his chair, calm and unreadable. The phoenix crest of the Liang family was mounted behind him—wings spread, watching all. His gaze lingered on the digital projections for only a second longer before he spoke.
"Divert our presence in the south. Focus instead on R&D start-ups in the east. Quiet players. Unseen gains."
The board members fell silent, some nodding, others scrambling to adjust strategies.
"Also," Fei added, "triple the nondisclosure boundaries on the next-gen prototypes. If the Bai want shadows, give them smoke."
The meeting adjourned soon after. Fei returned to his office, a minimalist space of dark glass, polished steel, and a single photograph—one of his family from a simpler time. He rarely looked at it.
On his desk, a secure tablet blinked to life. A recording of the most recent training session played. Liang Yue—just nine—stood on the training grounds, facing their mother in a sword duel that had turned more intense than expected.
Fei watched it twice. He didn't blink.
"She's too young for this," he murmured.
Behind him, his assistant entered quietly. "New reports on her power regulation. And the internal security protocols you requested, sir."
Fei accepted the file without taking his eyes off the screen. The data was troubling: unstable surges, untrained peaks, deep reserves still untapped. Dangerous, even for someone older. For a nine-year-old? It was like letting a child wield lightning without a glove.
"She passed the Trial," the assistant noted softly.
"She endured it," Fei corrected. "That's not the same."
He closed the file, standing and pacing toward the wide glass that overlooked the city. Skyscrapers lined the skyline, but his thoughts stretched past them—to the Liang estate, to the little girl with fire in her blood and too much burden on her shoulders.
He remembered when she used to follow him around the manor halls, her tiny hand wrapped around two of his fingers, her smile unafraid of the world.
Now that same little sister had held her own against Lady Liang's sword.
"Double the discreet security detail around her," he said at last. "At school, at training, everywhere. I want records of everyone who breathes near her."
"Yes, sir. And… the press?"
"Silence them. Let the rumors grow. Mystery is a better shield than fact."
The assistant nodded and slipped away.
Left alone, Fei sat back at his desk. The video still showed Liang Yue mid-motion—her blade steady, her eyes fierce. He paused the frame.
She looked like their mother. But the resolve in her gaze—that was something else entirely.
"She'll become a storm," he murmured. "But until then, I'll be the wall."
Behind him, the phoenix crest glowed faintly in the fading light.