In the quiet halls of the Zhen Clan, Fang stood before an altar. A bowl of black liquid sat in his hand, swirling with dark Qi.
He whispered an incantation, and the liquid pulsed. "Poison of the Withered Soul… this should break him."
---
Elsewhere, Zenin walked the academy courtyard with Lin Yue, reviewing formation theory and combat arrays. But his mind was elsewhere—focused on controlling his newly awakened Qi.
"How do you feel?" Yue asked.
"Stronger," Zenin replied, eyes scanning the clouds. "And still not enough."
Suddenly, a clan servant approached, bowing low. "Young Master Zenin, the clan head invites you for dinner tonight."
Zenin raised an eyebrow. "The clan head? He's never spoken to me before."
Yue frowned. "Sounds like a trap."
Zenin simply nodded. "Then I'll go."
---
That night, in the lavish dining hall of the Zhen Clan, Zenin sat across from Zhen Yu—the clan head, and the man who once let him starve in silence.
Yu offered a warm smile. "Nephew. I've heard of your progress. Truly impressive."
Zenin stared at him without blinking. "Why the sudden kindness?"
Yu chuckled. "Family should not remain divided. Let us rebuild our bond."
He gestured to the table, where steaming dishes were laid out. Zenin picked up a bowl of soup, letting the scent pass under his nose.
He sensed it immediately—faint, but unmistakable.
Withered Soul Poison.
He set the bowl down.
"I'm not hungry."
Zhen Yu's smile froze.
"You know," Zenin said, rising, "if you're going to poison someone, at least use something that works on cultivators."
Yu's expression darkened. "You were supposed to die weak."
Zenin leaned close, whispering. "You're lucky I don't kill you here. But soon, I'll have no reason to spare worms like you."
He left the hall without looking back.
---
That night, Zenin burned the poison from his system through pure Qi pressure. His control was still crude, but improving fast.
And now he knew—the enemy wasn't only from the outside.
His own clan wanted him dead.
---