The morning sun spilled gold across the Yan estate, but Yan Kuangshen was already moving, his small form gliding over the dew-laden terraces like a shadow that didn't belong to the world. Today was not a day for play; today was a test.
Yan Tianhuo had arranged for Kuangshen to meet a select group of young prodigies from nearby clans and sects, those whose cultivation and intelligence were already considered remarkable for their ages. Most were children of Saint Kings or heirs of influential families, each one accustomed to praise and entitlement. Kuangshen, by contrast, had grown in solitude under his parents' watchful guidance, refining both his body and mind beyond what anyone could measure.
As he approached the designated courtyard, he observed the children with the same analytical eye he had used against the minor sect patrols. Each movement, each expression, each posture told him everything he needed to know. Their cultivation signatures, though carefully concealed, revealed gaps, weaknesses, and untapped potential.
A boy with jade-green eyes and the distinctive frost aura of a rare Ice Phoenix bloodline stepped forward, bowing with practiced elegance. "I am Xue Fengyun of the Xue Clan," he said. "I look forward to competing with Yan Kuangshen."
Kuangshen inclined his head slightly. "I look forward to understanding your approach. Observation is the first step in any encounter."
---
The courtyard had been prepared for controlled combat—formations set to neutralize lethal outcomes while still allowing participants to demonstrate skill. Yet within moments of the first exercise, it became clear that Kuangshen was operating on an entirely different level.
Xue Fengyun attempted a rapid series of frost strikes, each designed to test the child's reaction time. But Kuangshen anticipated every movement, his tiny frame shifting subtly in ways invisible to the untrained eye. When Fengyun tried to create a layered ice barrier, Kuangshen bypassed it entirely, folding the space around him with a single thought, appearing behind the young prodigy.
"This… this isn't just talent," Fengyun muttered under his breath, his formation trembling as the spatial distortion made his techniques falter. "It's… intelligence. Pure calculation."
Other children launched their attacks in succession—fire techniques, wind blades, lightning strikes—but Kuangshen did not simply dodge or block. He observed the flow of qi in each strike, learned from it, and subtly adapted his own energy in response. By the end of the morning, every prodigy present had failed to land a single decisive strike. Kuangshen had not even raised his voice.
Yet, when the exercises concluded, Kuangshen's eyes were calm, untroubled. "I have noted your strengths, your weaknesses, and the efficiencies you missed," he said softly. "Continue refining, and one day, your efforts may produce results. Today… you were not ready."
---
Whispers spread quickly among the assembled families. The toddler before them—barely two years old—had not only evaded every attack but analyzed and disrupted their techniques as if he had lived centuries. Several minor sect elders had come to observe, hoping to evaluate Kuangshen's potential for the coming talent tournaments. They departed with expressions ranging from astonishment to unease.
Later, as Kuangshen returned to the Yan estate, his parents awaited him. Yan Tianhuo studied his son's posture and the subtle shift of his energy signature. "You did not exert unnecessary force," he noted. "You could have ended them. Instead, you guided them. That is intelligence, not recklessness."
Kuangshen nodded. "Marcus always sought efficiency in combat. Power is nothing if wasted. Understanding others, controlling the flow… that is the true path to mastery."
Mei Xueling knelt beside him, brushing back a stray lock of white hair. "You are already surpassing expectations, even beyond what I thought possible at your age. But remember, Kuangshen, not everyone will be so… lenient. The world beyond these walls can be merciless."
His abyssal eyes narrowed slightly. "I am aware. And I am ready."
---
That evening, in a hidden chamber deep within the Yan estate, a shadowed figure observed. Whisper—the surviving assassin of the Shadow Moon Sect—had returned, his injuries long since healed, though the memory of his soul being absorbed still haunted him.
"He grows faster than anticipated," Whisper muttered, his eyes scanning the morning reports. "The child is not just prodigious… he is a threat. Every encounter strengthens him. Every observation he makes improves his body and mind simultaneously. In three years, he may surpass every Saint King in the Northern Wastes."
A second figure, older and cloaked in layers of dark silk, stepped forward. "Then we must adjust our approach. Direct assault has failed. Indirect influence, manipulation… subtlety will be our weapon. Ensure no opportunity is left for him to consolidate power without interference."
Whisper's lips tightened. "And if he senses it?"
The elder's eyes glinted with cruel certainty. "Then we adapt. He will not know the true danger until it is too late."
Kuangshen, unaware of the plotting shadows, meditated quietly in his chamber, absorbing ambient qi from the estate and folding it seamlessly into his dantian. He was already preparing for encounters that had not yet occurred, rehearsing strategies, testing bloodline techniques, and observing potential adversaries through distant meditation.
The Shadow Moon Sect had underestimated him once. They would not underestimate him again.