Star Fates at Odds

In the courtyard, Zhao Hao slowly lowered his fists.

His final punch slammed into the ironwood post with a dull, heavy thud. He put on his outer robe, the sweat-soaked fabric clinging to his skin and bringing a faint chill.

He didn't go back inside right away. He stood where he was, his gaze fixed on the mouth of the alley.

It was empty. No one was there anymore.

Yet Zhao Hao's brows drew together.

The Ink Jade Pendant at his neck rested against his skin, giving off a faint warmth. The sensation was abrupt, yet somehow familiar.

It was a sign of a Star Fate responding.

His mother had left him this pendant. He'd worn it for more than a decade, thinking of it only as a keepsake. Then, last month, after Zhao Yuanchong humiliated him in public, he'd returned home to find the pendant missing. He searched the entire room without finding it, only to discover the next day, while meditating, that it had suddenly returned to his neck.

Soon after, an old and unfamiliar presence welled up from some forgotten corner deep within his consciousness.

From that moment on, everything changed.

His cultivation advanced at a frightening pace. And when he fought someone, the instant their shoulder twitched, he knew where their next strike would go. His body seemed to know on its own how his true qi should flow—where to quicken, where to slow. Even stranger, he'd begun to smell danger, like a beast pricking up its ears in the night: before he saw anything, his heart would tighten.

The pendant had brought more than that. It had also brought fragmented, broken memories. It took him months to piece together even a little of their meaning.

One fragment mentioned "the Three Stars converging."

Seven Killings, Greedy Wolf, Army Breaker.

Zhao Hao's gaze darkened. He hadn't been sure before, but now he knew.

There was no mistaking the presence on Zhao Yuanchong—the one that stirred instinctive loathing and wariness in him, that carried a greedy edge beneath its sinister chill. The direct-line young master was probably one of the Three Stars.

That study companion named Wang Yuan looked like an ordinary retainer, standing beside Zhao Yuanchong with his head bowed and eyes lowered. His meridians were open, but Zhao Hao felt that with his current skills and instincts, he might not lose if they fought.

But just now—

Zhao Yuanchong had flung his sleeves and left. As Wang Yuan passed by Zhao Hao, he'd shot him a swift glance.

Just that one glance.

The pendant at Zhao Hao's neck had suddenly grown hot.

The dormant power within his body had stirred as well.

The feeling was different from what he'd felt facing Zhao Yuanchong. It wasn't the restless urge to clash head-on and devour the other.

It was a deeper, instinctive wariness.

Outside the side gate, Li Tui stood still, looking at the tightly shut mansion doors. Zhao Yuanchong's furious words—"Know what's good for you"—still hung in the air.

He didn't linger. Turning, he stepped over the threshold, his figure sinking into the shadows of Zhao Mansion. The clamor of the streets outside fell away, and quiet settled behind him.

Li Tui walked at an unhurried pace.

He knew Zhao Yuanchong had lost face today, and this wasn't over. The boy had a violent temper; after being rebuffed to his face, he'd only make things harder from now on.

But Li Tui wasn't in a hurry. After a month of serving at close quarters, he'd already gotten a clear read on that temperament. Zhao Yuanchong was cruel, certainly, but deep down, he still feared the Zhao Family's rules. And where there was fear, there was an opening to exploit.

Besides... He let his thoughts sink toward his dantian. The Qingling and Fengshi acupoints had opened, and his true qi circulated more smoothly than before. Though forcing his way through the acupoints last time had damaged his foundation, he had still managed to open them.

Just then, something stirred deep within his sea of consciousness.

The long-dormant Samsara Mirror began to turn of its own accord.

Patterns along the mirror's rim flickered. Ripples spread across its surface like water, revealing two clumps of light locked in a fierce struggle.

One was gray-white, condensing into the phantom of a long spear. Its point gleamed with a biting edge, steeped in murderous intent. The other was dark red, taking the shape of a wolf, its fangs faintly visible, its presence sinister and greedy.

The gray-white spear pressed forward step by step, while the dark-red wolf shadow retreated again and again, its form faintly suppressed.

Seven Killings... Greedy Wolf...

The two names surfaced in Li Tui's mind. His steps slowed.

A Star Fate made manifest?

He'd lived for eighty years in his previous life, and had heard and read a bit about such abstruse things as constellations and fated stars—in teahouse storytellings and miscellaneous books.

But this was the first time he'd ever "seen" one with his own eyes.

This gray-white spear...

He suddenly recalled the ruthless killing intent in Zhao Yuanchong's eyes when he looked at Zhao Hao. He remembered Zhao Hao's unreasonably sharp reactions and fighting instincts, and the Ink Jade Pendant at his neck. Now that he thought about it, beneath its dull surface, the pendant seemed to carry a faint presence of the same origin as the gray-white spear before him.

So this wasn't merely friction between legitimate and collateral branches.

Their Star Fates clashed.

When Greedy Wolf collided with Seven Killings, it was like night fog meeting the midday sun: afraid of being burned away, yet eager to devour the other and grow stronger.

That explained why Zhao Yuanchong had dared to casually promise even to "grant him a surname," and why he insisted on killing this seemingly insignificant collateral clansman.

Judging by the scene in the mirror, the "Seven Killings" on Zhao Hao was actually faintly suppressing the "Greedy Wolf" on Zhao Yuanchong.

Interesting.

It seemed the secrets hidden in this collateral-branch youth were more troublesome than he'd expected—and far more valuable.

The ripples on the mirror settled, and the two battling lights vanished without a trace.

Li Tui withdrew his attention and continued walking.

His fingertips brushed the coarse cloth of his sleeve. The fabric was sturdy, its weave rough.

This small Jinan Zhao Clan had actually produced two people bearing Star Fates at once.

What about him?

The Samsara Mirror had chosen him as its master, granting him reincarnation through a hundred lifetimes. What sort of fate did that count as?

Li Tui's eyes were still as a deep pool.

Whatever his fate, the road he had to walk was already set. His spiritual root had to awaken, his cultivation had to advance, and the resources in the Zhao Family's deep waters had to be grasped bit by bit.

As for their clashing Star Fates...

Now that the Mirror could reveal them, perhaps someday he could even nudge them a little.

Li Tui passed through the moon gate. Dusk had dimmed the courtyard. From the direction of the main residence came Zhao Yuanchong's impatient scolding, mixed with the soft, gentle voice of a woman trying to soothe him.

He didn't stop, heading straight back to his room.

He pushed open the door and shut it behind him.

The room was unlit. Only the fading light from outside traced the outlines of the table, chairs, and bed. He sat down beside the bed without rushing to cultivate, sitting quietly.

Night deepened, swallowing the last of the fading light.

In the darkness, Li Tui opened his eyes.

His gaze was calm, reflecting the flickering lights of the distant main residence of Zhao Mansion.

He closed his eyes, quieted his breathing, and resumed his cultivation.

The night was still long.

Whatever tomorrow brought, he'd deal with it tomorrow.