The Great Zhou Dynasty. Wuzhou. Dongning Prefecture.
At the main gates of the Mirror Lake Dao Academy—one of the eight great academies of Dongning—a young man with a blade at his waist stepped out.
"Senior Brother Meng!"
"Greetings, Senior Brother Meng."
"Brother Meng, well met."
The disciples nearby greeted him warmly.
Meng Chuan inclined his head in response. In truth, many of these "junior brothers and sisters" were older than he was, but the academy followed the rule of strength above age. Two years earlier, Meng Chuan had earned his place in Shanshui Tower—the elite division of Mirror Lake Dao Academy. The twenty-two disciples of Shanshui Tower were the strongest the academy had to offer, admired and envied by all. Among them, Senior Brother Meng stood out. Unlike most, who ignored the struggles of others, he occasionally gave pointers to junior disciples, earning their heartfelt respect.
"Master Meng, Master Meng!"
A familiar voice called out. A girl in green robes hurried over, her steps light with excitement.
"Lü Zhu?" Meng Chuan smiled. "What brings you here?"
"My lady invites you to join her for an outing at East Mountain," Lü Zhu replied cheerfully. "It snowed heavily last night—the scenery will be breathtaking today."
"East Mountain?" Meng Chuan's brows furrowed. "That's too far. A round trip would take more than a day. We'd have to spend the night there."
"Not to worry," Lü Zhu said quickly. "The Yun family owns a villa on East Mountain. You can stay there."
Meng Chuan shook his head. "Go back and tell Qingping that the Yuyang Palace Demon-Slaying Assembly is only a month away. I must focus on cultivation and cannot accompany her. Remind her to devote herself to her own training as well, instead of thinking only of leisure."
"This…" Lü Zhu hesitated, but under his steady gaze, she bowed her head. "Yes, I will tell her."
Meng Chuan sighed softly as the maid left. Yun Qingping, his betrothed since childhood, was a constant source of headache.

Mirror Lake Dao Academy stood on the eastern shore of Mirror Lake. Across the waters, on the western bank, rose many stately mansions—including the Meng family estate.
"Young master."
Two guards at the gate straightened respectfully as he approached.
"Is my father home?" Meng Chuan asked.
"Someone came from the ancestral residence earlier. The master left at once," one guard replied.
Meng Chuan nodded thoughtfully and entered the estate.
"Thwish, thwish, thwish!"
The sound of arrows whistling through the air drew him toward the training ground.
There, a young woman in crimson stood with bow in hand. Arrow after arrow shot across dozens of paces, each new shaft splitting the last with flawless precision.
Meng Chuan paused, watching her.
She was Liu Qiyue, daughter of Liu Yebai—his father's sworn brother. When Meng Chuan was eight, Liu Yebai had brought his daughter to live with the Meng family.
Like him, she had lost her mother early. The two had trained side by side ever since, bound by a bond deeper than blood.
"Ah Chuan, you're back!" Qiyue's eyes lit up as she saw him. "These wooden targets bore me. Come—be my moving target instead! If not for waiting on you, I'd already be at the academy's archery grounds. They're much bigger than this place."
Meng Chuan chuckled. "All right, I'll be your target."
Qiyue swapped out her quiver for blunted practice arrows. Her gaze sharpened. "Careful now, Ah Chuan. Don't end up black and blue again."
"And you'd best be careful too," Meng Chuan replied, unsheathing his blade. "Today I'll break your Seven-Star Linked Arrows."
She grinned mischievously, fingers moving like a blur. Arrow after arrow loosed in a seamless rhythm, each motion as natural as breathing.
"Whish, whish, whish!"
Meng Chuan's saber whirled in graceful arcs, weaving a domain of steel before him, deflecting each shot with practiced ease.
"Your blade-work grows sharper by the day," Qiyue said brightly, still loosing shafts with ease. "Let's see how long you last against my true technique."
Her next arrow shrieked through the air, faster and deadlier.
"Here it comes!" Meng Chuan's stance tightened.
One arrow, then another. By the sixth, his blade faltered for the briefest instant. An arrow thudded against his chest, forcing him back a step, breath catching as pain blossomed across his ribs.
"Still couldn't block it," he admitted with a wry smile.
"You've already withstood four of my five killing techniques," Qiyue laughed. "Only the Seven-Star Linked Arrows remain. Do you realize how many disciples at the academy can't even endure my Triple Phantom Arrows? Yet you can."
"I've been fending off your arrows since we were children. Naturally, I fare better than most." He shook his head. "Besides, these are blunted arrows. With real arrowheads, your techniques would be far deadlier. I wouldn't be able to stop half of them."
"Don't you know?" she said proudly. "At the same realm, no one survives a god-archer's storm."
Meng Chuan snorted. "In a real fight to the death, I'd already be at your side before you could draw your bow."
"God-archers always have protectors," Qiyue retorted with a smirk. "They'll keep you away. Then you'd be my target. Perhaps one day, you'll even serve as my protector!"
Meng Chuan laughed. He knew the truth of her words—master archers were treasures to any faction, guarded jealously. And Qiyue, with her gift, was destined for greatness.
"Ah Chuan, was it about the Demon-Slaying Assembly that your headmaster summoned you today?" she asked.
"Yes," Meng Chuan replied. "And your Lieyang Dao Academy?"
"Our headmaster already gave me one of our three spots," she said proudly. "I'm the only archer among the top ten marrow-cleansing disciples. Against demons, no one is more suited than me."
Meng Chuan smiled. "Our academy has three spots as well. But even though I'm ranked among the top ten, I still have to fight for my place. If I lose, I won't even qualify to go."
"Then fight hard," she teased.
"Don't underestimate them. If you face a demon at the Assembly, don't let it close in on you."
With that, he suddenly lunged forward.
"Catch me if you can!" Qiyue cried, darting away and loosing another arrow over her shoulder.

Elsewhere, in the Yun family estate—one of Dongning's five great god-demon clans.
Yun Qingping sat beside her father, Yun Fuan, pouring tea.
"Try this, Father." She smiled sweetly, placing the cup before him.
Her eyes flicked toward a returning maid. At once, she called, "Lü Zhu!"
The maid bowed nervously.
"Well? What did Meng Chuan say?" Qingping pressed.
"Master Meng said he must devote himself to cultivation for the upcoming Demon-Slaying Assembly," Lü Zhu murmured. "He cannot accompany you to East Mountain."
"Again?" Qingping's face darkened. "Always training, training, training!"
"He also asked me to remind you to spend more time on your own cultivation, my lady," Lü Zhu added timidly, "and not think only of amusement."
"He dares lecture me?" Qingping snapped.
From across the table, Yun Fuan chuckled, savoring his tea. "He speaks wisely. You should cultivate diligently instead of idling away your days."
"Father, Meng Chuan is like a block of wood!" Qingping burst out. "You bound us together when I was barely a month old! But we are nothing alike. I love gatherings, friends, laughter. He prefers solitude, training, and painting. We can't even hold a proper conversation. The thought of marrying him makes me want to scream."
"You're too wild. A husband who steadies you is exactly what you need," Yun Fuan said with a smile.
She clung to his arm. "Please, Father. Speak with the Mengs. End this betrothal!"
"Absolutely not." Yun Fuan's voice was firm.
"Why?" Qingping's voice rose, anger flaring. "You decided my life before I could even speak. You had no idea what kind of person Meng Chuan would grow into. You never cared what I wanted. Isn't that unfair?"
"Meng Chuan is an excellent match," Yun Fuan said coolly. "Among the younger generation of Dongning's great clans, few compare."
"I don't care how good he is! I don't like him!"
Yun Fuan set his cup down with a sharp clink, eyes hardening. Qingping flinched, but pride stiffened her spine.
"For half a year now, you've begged me to break this engagement six separate times," he said coldly. "Clearly, I have spoiled you too much. Hear me now: this marriage is not just between you and Meng Chuan. It binds the Yun family to the Mengs. We Yuns may be counted among Dongning's five god-demon clans, but we've been here mere decades. Our roots are shallow. The Mengs, by contrast, have reigned here for over a thousand years. Their clan numbers in the tens of thousands. Meng Chuan's father, Meng Dajiang, will be their next patriarch. As the only daughter of our third generation, your marriage to him will strengthen our ties immeasurably."
"Grandfather is a god-demon," Qingping countered hotly. "With him here, who can shake the Yun family? Why can't I live freely?"
"Freedom?" Yun Fuan's voice was ice. "Freedom means choosing any man you please, regardless of clan duty?"
"Why not? Must I sacrifice myself for the family? Don't you feel shame?"
"Silence!"
Fury blazed across his face as he rose, pointing at her. "You want to play? You have guards. You crave fire-dragon fish in the dead of winter? Men risk their lives to fetch it for you. You slack in cultivation, yet we pour treasures into your hands until you reach the marrow-cleansing stage this very year. I hire experts to guide you one-on-one. Three Transcendence-stage guards shadow your every step. Do you know what it costs the clan to maintain you? Five hundred taels a month for the guards alone! And more besides!"
Qingping froze, stunned. She was not foolish; she could calculate the cost.
"You enjoy the clan's benefits. You will bear the clan's burden," Yun Fuan thundered. "You think you can take everything and give nothing? Dream on!"
His gaze turned sharp. "And I hear of this Zhang Chong boy from your academy, sniffing around you? A mere collateral of the Zhang clan? He dares think himself worthy of my daughter?"
"Father, Zhang Senior Brother and I—"
"One step out of line, and I will end him," Yun Fuan cut her off, voice like steel. "And if you stain the Yun family's honor, I will cast you out as well. Don't think being my daughter will save you."
A chill gripped Qingping's heart. She had never seen her father so merciless. She was only fifteen.
Then, as swiftly as it had come, his fury ebbed. He sighed, his tone softening. "This is the way of great clans. Marriage is duty. Even if he were ugly or weak, you would wed him. Your mother was chosen for me by my father—I had no say either. But Meng Chuan is upright, talented, and strong. You should count yourself fortunate."
He glanced at Lü Zhu, who trembled nearby. "Watch your mistress closely. Do not let her err."
"Yes, master," Lü Zhu whispered.
Hands clasped behind his back, Yun Fuan strode away.
Qingping stood rooted, staring after him. Her father's final words echoed in her mind: If you disgrace us, even you I will cast out. Do not blame me for cruelty.
For the first time, she realized the world was far harsher than she had ever believed.