Zhao Hao

At the second quarter of the Chen hour, the morning sun cast its light upon the bluestone steps of Moxiang Pavilion.

Li Tui stood at the foot of the steps. On the black sandalwood plaque, the three characters for "Moxiang Pavilion" were outlined in gold lacquer, their strokes sharp as blades.

Inside the gate, the blue-brick floor was polished to a mirror-like sheen.

A place for the children of noble families to pursue their studies.

Li Tui retreated into the shadows beside a pillar; it was the rule that attendants did not enter the hall. After all, while the title of "attendant" sounded respectable, in reality, it was merely to provide the Third Young Master with a "playmate" of similar age, while keeping an eye on him to ensure he didn't cause any major trouble.

Li Tui found a bluestone bench by the pillar, brushed off the dust, and sat cross-legged. This spot was secluded, and by lifting his eyes, he could see the main entrance of the schoolhouse.

He closed his eyes and focused his mind.

The true energy within his body had been accumulating for over ten days, gathering like mountain streams into a pool. Li Tui guided his consciousness to sink into his dantian; that tiny speck of cyan light was much more solid than it had been at the start of the month, resembling a jade seed submerged in deep water, flickering with his breath.

He began to circulate the method of drawing energy.

The true energy traveled through his meridians; although there was still some resistance, it was smoother than it had been at the beginning.

It was getting closer.

At this rate, with the resources available to an attendant, he would have a chance to fully awaken his spiritual root within a year at most. Only when he could draw spiritual energy into his body would he truly step across the threshold of cultivation.

The shadows of the day began to shift.

He did not know how much time had passed before an unusual sound drifted from within the schoolhouse.

Li Tui ceased his practice and looked up.

He stood up, brushed off his lapels, and approached the schoolhouse entrance, stopping in the shadow cast by the door to peer inside.

The teacher in the green robe still stood before the podium, holding a scroll, his eyes fixed on his nose and his nose on his heart, as if his spirit were wandering far away.

Most of the students remained, gathered in a loose semicircle from a distance, their expressions varied: some were gloating, some were fearful and evasive, but most were watching with cold indifference.

At the center of the commotion, Zhao Yuanchong stood with his hands behind his back, his chin slightly raised.

Standing opposite him was a boy in plain cloth, roughly twelve or thirteen years old. He was half a head taller than Zhao Yuanchong, with unremarkable features, save for a pair of eyes that were excessively calm. Around the boy's neck hung a black jade pendant, its texture coarse and simple, appearing completely out of place among the surrounding silk robes.

"Zhao Hao," Zhao Yuanchong began, his voice not loud but clear. His gaze landed on the pendant, and the corners of his mouth curled into an amused arc. "It's been a few months, and this pendant of yours... it's not bad. I heard it's a keepsake from your birth mother?"

The air seemed to grow a few degrees colder.

Zhao Hao's body stiffened slightly, and his fingers tightened within his sleeves until his knuckles turned white. Yet, his face remained ripple-free as he bowed his head slightly: "I appreciate the Third Young Master's concern. It is but a keepsake from my late mother; I dare not call it precious, I only cherish her maternal kindness."

"Maternal kindness?" Zhao Yuanchong acted as if he had heard something amusing, pacing half a step forward, tilting his head with a smile that was both innocent and cruel. "I seem to recall some old stories... Cousin Hao's birth mother, wasn't she a woman known for her excellent embroidery in the marketplace? It was quite a coincidence. With such a background, it's no wonder Cousin is so diligent in his cultivation—are you hoping to win glory for your mother and change your family's standing?"

Every word was like a needle, aimed precisely at the most painful spot.

A very low gasp came from the watching students. On the podium, the teacher in the green robe frowned slightly, his fingertips rubbing the edge of his scroll, but in the end, he did not move.

Zhao Hao raised his eyes. A thin layer of ice had formed within those calm eyes, the chill biting. He remained silent for a moment, then, very slowly and deliberately, he pulled at the corners of his mouth, revealing an arc that held almost no smile.

"The Third Young Master's instruction is correct." His voice remained steady, perhaps even deeper than before. "Born from humble origins, I know all the more the difficulty of striving forward. I dare not compare myself to the Young Master's natural talent and good fortune; I can only compensate for my clumsiness with diligence, and I dare not slacken."

He bit down slightly harder on the words "natural talent and good fortune," and paired with his emotionless gaze, it was like a dull blade scraping against Zhao Yuanchong's most sensitive nerve. Who didn't know that Zhao Yuanchong possessed a Grade A spiritual root but was lazy in his cultivation, resulting in slow progress?

The smile on Zhao Yuanchong's face faded, and a flash of annoyance at being defied crossed his features. He had understood the retort hidden within the silk.

"Diligence can compensate for clumsiness?" Zhao Yuanchong sneered, raising a hand to point at Zhao Hao, his fingertip almost touching the other boy's nose. "Then tell me, after all these years of your 'diligence,' why are you still stumbling even at drawing energy into your body? I don't think it's clumsiness—I think there's something fundamentally lacking in your roots!"

This was an insult that all but tore away the mask, pointing directly at the inferiority of Zhao Hao's bloodline and his lack of prospects in cultivation.

The veins on Zhao Hao's neck bulged slightly, and the black jade pendant rose and fell with his suppressed breathing. He stared at Zhao Yuanchong, his gaze as sharp as a knife, and the emotions churning within it went far beyond a mere dispute between youths.

It was deep, profound hatred.

Li Tui saw it clearly from the shadows outside the door.

Zhao Yuanchong felt a jolt in his heart from that look, which was immediately followed by an even greater surge of anger. A piece of trash from a side branch, and he dared to try and scare him?

He instinctively took a step forward, his arm already raised.

The tension was at a breaking point.

"Young Master."

A steady voice intervened; it was not loud, but it cut a rift through the taut air.

Li Tui stepped out from the shadows by the door, his gait even, and walked to a spot half a step behind Zhao Yuanchong, bowing slightly: "The hour is nearing noon, and the kitchen has already prepared the midday meal. There is a riding and archery lesson in the afternoon, and the instructor values punctuality above all else."

Zhao Yuanchong's raised arm froze in mid-air. He turned his head to glare at Li Tui, the lingering anger still burning in his eyes: "Meddlesome!"

Li Tui lowered his gaze and remained silent, his posture respectful yet firm, like a silent stone blocking any impulse Zhao Yuanchong might have had to go further.

The brief interruption allowed Zhao Yuanchong's heated brain to cool. He looked at the surrounding cousins who were bowing their heads but pricking up their ears, then glanced at the teacher on the podium who had finally cast a look their way. The wicked fire that had wanted to erupt on the spot was, in the end, suppressed by reason.

He turned and flicked his sleeves, walking toward the door with heavy, deliberate steps.

Li Tui followed closely behind, his pace not faltering in the slightest as he passed by Zhao Hao.

Ten paces out of Moxiang Pavilion, after rounding the screen wall shaded by green bamboo, they reached the corridor leading to Zhao Yuanchong's courtyard. There was no one around.

Zhao Yuanchong suddenly stopped. Without turning back, his voice came, stripped of the bravado from the schoolhouse and carrying a strange calmness:

"Just now, did you see everything?"

Li Tui paused and lowered his head: "I was waiting outside the door, and I heard the dispute faintly."

"Just a dispute?" Zhao Yuanchong turned around slowly, the exaggerated anger gone from his face, replaced by a much calmer expression. He stared into Li Tui's eyes. "You saw that look in his eyes clearly, didn't you?"

Li Tui was silent for a moment. "Young Master Hao... seems to be harboring some resentment."

"Resentment?" Zhao Yuanchong curled his lips in a mocking smile. "That was the look of someone who wants to kill. He hates me; he wishes I would drop dead this instant."

Li Tui said nothing. At this moment, neither denying nor admitting it would be appropriate.

"A piece of trash from a branch family, and he dares to hate me?" Zhao Yuanchong whispered to himself, then raised his eyes, his gaze landing on Li Tui's face with a childish, cruel curiosity. "Wang Yuan, tell me... if I were to send you back now, to find a secluded spot and have him 'accidentally' take a tumble, break an arm or a leg, could you do it?"

Wind blew through the corridor, the rustling of bamboo leaves making the silence even more profound.

Li Tui raised his eyes, meeting Zhao Yuanchong's gaze. In that look, there was probing, playfulness, and perhaps a trace of a desire that even Zhao Yuanchong himself had not realized.

"Young Master," Li Tui's voice was steady and calm, as if stating an ordinary matter, "Young Master Hao is, after all, a descendant listed in the clan genealogy. Within the estate, under the eyes of many, if such an 'accident' were to occur, Xingtang would certainly investigate. I am clumsy and slow-handed; I fear that if I were to act without discretion, I would only bring trouble upon you."

Zhao Yuanchong stared at him for a long while, then suddenly laughed, his smile carrying a different meaning. "You are certainly cautious." He waved his hand, seemingly having lost interest. "Boring. Fine, go back. I'm hungry."

Li Tui followed half a step behind him, his face maintaining its usual low-browed, submissive expression.

Kill Zhao Hao? Cripple Zhao Hao?

There was not a single ripple in Li Tui's heart. Zhao Yuanchong's bit of malice was like a child brandishing a wooden sword—all bluster and no substance. This young master had been spoiled rotten, thinking a single word could make people risk their lives, unaware that if a registered clan member were truly killed, the first person pushed out to take the blame would be the "obedient" dog of a servant who carried out the order.

Zhao Hao could not be touched for the time being. It wasn't out of fear, but because it was useless. The life of a branch family boy wouldn't bring any benefits, only trouble. He had seen the methods of those in Xingtang in his past life; they would rather kill the innocent by mistake than let a single culprit go. Gamble for Zhao Yuanchong's passing whim? Only a fool would make such a trade.

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