The Vermilion Dawn rose blood-red over the capital. Smoke from the cremated traitors still lingered in the palace air, a reminder of what happened to those who mistook shadows for safety.
In the depths beneath the throne room, Li Tianming stood alone in the Shadow Lair, his arms behind his back as he studied the three names glowing on the floating scroll.
They were not talents, not chosen were only discarded.
And that's why he had called for them.
⸻
Disciple 1: Mu Yunyao – Age 17
Once the adopted daughter of a famous Lightning Sect elder, she was cast out after failing to form a Spirit Root by the sect's standards. Her dantian was shattered during an "accident" in training—likely staged. She survived the wilderness alone for a year, feeding on spirit grass and poison alike.
Her cultivation was dormant. Her body weak. But her eyes… the report said they never stopped watching.
Tianming looked at her record.
"Good," he muttered. "The ones who can't break usually learn nothing. The ones who already broke…"
"…learn to build."
Disciple 2: Feng Yaoting – Age 15
Son of a low-ranking war general. His father's name was erased after refusing to bow to Minister Hu Dou. His family executed clan was dissolved.
Feng was sold into slavery at age ten. Escaped four times. Branded. Tortured. Eventually captured by a rogue cultivator and kept as a sparring target for three years. Now mute but his Qi pulses like a volcano beneath skin.
Cultivation Realm: Early Foundation Establishment, reached without a teacher or manual.
"He bleeds hate," Tianming said. "Let's turn it into control."
Disciple 3: Li Rouzhi – Age 13
Illegitimate daughter of a noble clan. Abandoned at birth. Grew up in back-alley brothels pretending to be a boy to avoid being sold off like her mother. Taught herself swordsmanship with kitchen knives.
Caught cutting off the hand of a drunken cultivator at twelve. Survived by stabbing another through the eye with a broken pipe. No formal training. But a perfect innate affinity for Wind Qi—hidden beneath scars.
"The world tried to erase her," Tianming said softly. "So now she will cut her name into it."
⸻
That morning, the three were escorted into the hidden palace chamber above the Lair. They entered one by one, barefoot, bruised, unsure if they had been chosen or captured.
They stood in silence as Tianming descended the steps from the throne, his eyes scanning them like one would examine iron ore—measuring what could be forged.
"None of you are here by merit," he began.
"You weren't born noble. You weren't born lucky. And frankly, most would call you useless."
Yunyao flinched.
Rouzhi scowled.
Feng said nothing, eyes cast down.
Tianming stepped in front of them. His voice did not rise.
"But that's exactly why I chose you."
He raised a single finger.
"You have already suffered more than most cultivators will in their entire lives. You survived it. You broke and kept moving."
His eyes burned.
"I can give you strength. Real strength. But I will not coddle you. I will not protect you. I will use you. The world does not need more heroes."
"It needs monsters with a leash."
He paused. "I will be the leash."
⸻
The first test began immediately.
In the underground training ring, Tianming handed each of them a dull iron dagger. "You have ten breaths to land a cut on me."
Rouzhi charged first—fast, reckless, but predictable. Tianming sidestepped, tapped her on the forehead, and she collapsed like a broken bird.
Yunyao hesitated—watching his movements like a predator that had once been prey. She moved second, trying to feint and circle. Tianming caught her wrist mid-swing and simply squeezed until her blade dropped.
Feng Yaoting didn't move not until the ninth breath.
Then he exploded.
His entire body surged forward—not at Tianming, but at Rouzhi, grabbing her dagger from the floor mid-run and launching it with pure instinct at Tianming's chest.
The dagger struck Tianming's shoulder—and shattered harmlessly against his Qi-reinforced robe.
But Tianming's lips curled. He turned to Kisuke, who had been watching from the shadows. "Mark him. Potential awakened."
⸻
After the session, Tianming sat in the meditation chamber, Core Seed revolving gently inside his dantian like a golden ember.
He did not rush its growth. The breakthrough had stabilized his Qi, made his spiritual roots firmer, and widened his control.
His next step was clear:
Qi Core Stage. But cultivation would now be earned not just by absorbing Qi…but through building something.
A sect of his own. A power no clan could infiltrate and a legacy that began beneath the throne.
Elsewhere: The Spy Who Watched Too Long
Xin Lian was no longer hiding. He sat alone in a cold room, knees drawn up, eyes darting like a cornered beast. He had tried to flee but Itachi brought him back without breaking stride.
Kisuke had shown him a vision of his own home burned to cinders if he failed. Now, he sat trembling while Tianming stood before him with a calm expression.
"You have two paths, Xin Lian," he said.
"One: Return to your kingdom and deliver false reports, serve me from within, and live."
"Two: Die here. In silence. Achieving nothing."
Xin Lian swallowed. "Why… why would you trust me?"
Tianming's answer was ice:
"I don't. That's why Itachi will follow your shadow for the rest of your life and if you even think of betrayal, Kisuke's formation will ignite your spine from the inside."
Xin Lian nodded, shaking.
"Good," Tianming said, turning. "Welcome to the truth."
⸻
That night, as the moon rose over the Vermilion Palace, the Shadow Lair buzzed with life.
Itachi moved silently across rooftops, extending Tianming's intelligence web. Kisuke crafted new surveillance nodes across the capital and in the underground chamber, three broken disciples knelt in meditation—scarred, trembling, but for the first time…