The clouds over the Liang estate thickened, casting long, slanted shadows across the stone courtyards. The day of the Summit had arrived, heavy and crackling with unseen tension.
Liang Yue adjusted the ceremonial sash around her waist, the silk too stiff, too tight. Beside her, Liang Mei knelt, fixing a loose strand of Yue's hair behind her ear with a rare, soft smile.
"You don't need to fear them," Liang Mei whispered. "Let them fear you."
Yue nodded, though her stomach twisted into knots.
Across the grand hall, the Liang family gathered, their presence a silent declaration of strength. Their armor gleamed, their crests shining—a warning and a promise.
But they were not alone today.
The great doors creaked open with a resounding groan that echoed through the chamber.
First came the Lei Family—a storm clothed in flesh.
At their head walked Lei Shuren, a towering man in dark silver armor streaked with lightning motifs. Sparks flickered at his boots with every step. His presence filled the hall like an oncoming stormfront—loud even in silence.
Behind him marched two younger warriors, their eyes sharp, their movements honed like blades.
Liang Zhen shifted subtly, positioning himself between Yue and the storm.
"They don't bow," he muttered.
Before Yue could answer, another shift pulled the air colder.
The Bai Family entered, quiet as drifting snow.
Leading them was Bai Xueqin, the matriarch of the Silent Flame. She moved like mist, her white robes trailing behind her without a sound. Around her, the atmosphere thickened, each breath feeling heavier, slower, as if thought itself struggled to keep pace.
Her followers—clad in pale gray—glided in perfect silence, their faces unreadable masks.
A chill ran down Yue's spine. The Bai were as dangerous as they were elegant—masters of subtlety, masters of unseen influence.
Tension rippled through the room. Words were few; glances spoke louder. Every family weighed the others, measured strengths and weaknesses like merchants at a deadly market.
And somewhere—unseen but undeniable—the Wu Family had already arrived.
Not through the doors.
Not with ceremony.
They simply were.
Wu Xian was there, somewhere in the shadows, observing. Waiting. A presence in the corner of her awareness, sharp as a blade yet invisible to the eye.
Yue straightened, feeling the pull of so many unseen currents. Nine years old—but no longer small.
She was the Fourth Bloodline's future. And everyone here knew it.
Liang Zhen leaned down, voice low.
"They're sizing you up," he warned. "Remember—they won't fight fair. They never do."
Yue's gaze swept across the assembly:
Lei Shuren, the thunder wrapped in human skin.
Bai Xueqin, the cold flame behind a veil of serenity.
And Wu Xian—somewhere in the darkness, like a hidden star pulling gravity.
She wasn't just a child anymore.
She was a contender.
The ceremonial bell rang once, deep and resonant.
The Summit had begun.
And the war for the future had quietly, irreversibly, started.