The Shang Academy's combat arena buzzed with anticipation. Today was the First Combat Evaluation—an official ranking match to assess student progress. For most, it was a chance to impress instructors. For Zenin, it was a step in a long path toward vengeance.
He stood quietly at the edge of the arena, dressed in black robes stitched with subtle silver—a sharp contrast to the golden silks of noble disciples.
"Opponent: Lin Hao. Peak Qi Gathering Realm," the instructor announced.
A few students snickered.
"Zenin's finished."
"He's only mid-stage Qi Gathering, and Lin Hao's got a spirit blade!"
The gong echoed.
Zenin's opponent struck fast, sword flashing in a flurry of burning Qi slashes. But Zenin didn't move—his gaze calm, calculating.
Then, he stepped forward.
A sudden surge of pressure erupted. His movement was like a phantom, his palm striking Lin Hao's wrist with brutal precision, shattering bone. The next blow sent the arrogant noble crashing into the arena wall.
Silence.
"Winner: Zhen Zenin."
The instructor's eyes narrowed. That was no ordinary strike. That was experience.
Zenin bowed and returned to the sidelines. He felt dozens of stares—some filled with fear, others with hatred.
---
Back in the Zhen estate, Lady Zhen read the updated rankings.
Zhen Zenin – Rank 2.
Her face twisted.
"He's growing too fast. Yun'er must surpass him, or he'll inherit what should be hers."
Zhen Yun clenched her jaw. "I'll crush him in the next evaluation."
But Lady Zhen's voice was low and venomous:
> "If not with skill… then with poison."
---
In his dorm, Zenin meditated. His Qi had grown denser, sharper. But cultivation wasn't his only training.
He opened a scroll drawn from a hidden compartment—the Demonic Emperor's personal records on Soul Severing techniques.
> "You betrayed me with blades once. I will return the favor—with silence and blood."
---