The palace courtyard buzzed with excitement.
Today was Crown Prince Li Ren's public sparring showcase — a monthly display for noble families and court officials, proving the prince's talent, grace, and cultivation progress.
Servants scrubbed the white jade tiles. Ministers took their seats in shaded pavilions. Concubines fluttered fans behind veils, whispering gossip with painted lips.
The arena floor gleamed under the morning sun.
And in the corner — unnoticed as always — stood Shen.
Dressed in servant gray, hands clasped behind his back, expression unreadable.
"You trained with spirit beasts. He trained with instructors.""Don't humiliate him. But don't lose either," he reminded himself.
Li Ren arrived in ceremonial training robes, crimson with golden trim. His spear — the royal ironwood spear forged by the Imperial Foundry — gleamed like a dragon's fang.
The prince's movements were sharp, refined. His aura controlled.
The crowd clapped as he performed a flawless form sequence.
And then — the main event was announced.
"His Highness will now choose a servant to spar with, to show the gap between dragon and mortal," the announcer declared.
Li Ren scanned the gathered attendants lazily.
And then his gaze landed on Shen.
Something flickered in his eyes.
"You. The quiet one."
Gasps erupted.
A mere servant? Unheard of.
Shen bowed. "As Your Highness commands."
The arena fell silent as Shen stepped onto the polished floor, barefoot, unarmed.
A few nobles chuckled.
"Is he going to spar with his fingers?"
"Maybe the prince is giving us a comedy show."
Li Ren twirled his spear. "Don't worry. I'll go easy."
Shen tilted his head. "Please don't."
That single line turned heads.
The prince's brow twitched. "Begin!"
Li Ren lunged forward — fast, clean, direct.
The spear came like lightning.
Shen moved like mist.
With a single step to the side, he let the spear pass inches from his face — and with one smooth motion, tapped the shaft with his fingers, redirecting its force into the ground.
CRACK — a web of fractures split the tiles.
The crowd went silent.
Li Ren spun back, now serious.
His next strike was stronger, spinning, aimed at Shen's shoulder.
This time, Shen caught the shaft mid-air.
Held it.
Eyes locked.
Li Ren's breath caught in his throat.
"He's stronger than me…" he realized.
But Shen didn't strike.
Instead, he stepped back, bowed, and said, "Forgive me, Your Highness. I nearly overstepped."
Murmurs exploded across the pavilions.
The prince grit his teeth. "Match over," he snapped, turning his back.
Later that night, a storm rolled over the capital.
Li Ren stood alone in his chamber, watching lightning flicker across the sky.
His fingers tapped the balcony rail.
"That servant… Shen. He's not ordinary."
He turned, eyes narrowed.
"I want his records. His origin. Everything."
In the shadowed servant quarters, Shen lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
He didn't smile. He didn't frown.
He simply whispered to himself:
"You felt it, didn't you… brother?"