The courtyard of Ling Manor shimmered beneath the rising sun. Dew glistened on jade tiles, and the banners of the Ling Clan fluttered proudly in the crisp morning air. Disciples moved in orderly formation, their swords cutting arcs of light through the air. Yet in the center stood the one whom all eyes followed.
Ling Tian.
He was tall for his age, his frame lean but filled with latent strength. His every movement was fluid, neither rushed nor hesitant, but filled with a quiet authority that made even his instructors fall silent. With one decisive strike, his wooden practice sword disarmed Ling Hu, his cousin. The weapon clattered onto the stones as the gathered juniors collectively gasped.
Ling Hu stumbled backward, his pride wounded far more than his body.
"Tian wins again," whispered a disciple. "He's unstoppable."
From the shade of the pavilion, the elders watched with subtle smiles.
"Such talent," murmured Elder Zhao, stroking his grey beard. "His cultivation has barely begun, yet already he steadies his qi as if he's walked this path for decades."
Another elder nodded approvingly. "Yes… Ling Tian is the very future of our clan."
Hu's teeth ground together. He bent to retrieve his sword, his face hidden by his hair. Future? he seethed. What of me? Will I always be cast aside in his shadow?
Ling Tian, oblivious to his cousin's inner rage, smiled warmly and extended a hand. "Elder Brother Hu, your strikes are stronger than before. Yesterday, I might not have blocked that final thrust."
But Hu slapped his hand away, voice sharp though his face wore a tight smile. "Your flattery insults me more than defeat, Cousin."
The disciples went quiet at his tone.
Ling Tian tilted his head, confused. Then, with neither arrogance nor shame, he bowed to Hu. "May we both continue to grow stronger. After all, the Ling Clan flourishes when its brothers do."
It was sincerity. Pure and unselfish.
And it was that sincerity which stoked the fire of hate burning in Ling Hu's chest.
Beneath the golden sunlight, Ling Tian stood radiant like a phoenix about to soar. Yet in the shadows behind him, envy sharpened its claws.