Morning came too quickly.Yu Jingming woke to someone pounding on his door, which was somehow worse than the fever dreams the original owner of this body used to have. He'd spent most of the night cultivating—well, trying to cultivate with meridians that felt like they'd been sealed with cement—and his body was screaming at him for it."Young master! The morning assembly begins in half an hour. His Majesty expects all princes to attend."That was a different servant from yesterday. Male this time, voice gruff and impatient. Yu Jingming considered ignoring him entirely, but that wasn't the play here. Not yet."I'll be there," he called out, surprised by how rough his voice sounded. This body needed water. And probably food, considering the original Yu Jingming had apparently survived on tea and embarrassment for the past week.The footsteps retreated. Good. He needed time to think.He sat up slowly, testing this body's limits. Yesterday's cultivation session had actually worked—he could feel it. His Spiritual Sea was still pathetic by any real standard, but it was stable now. Solid. Like building a house on actual foundation instead of quicksand. Anyone who examined him closely would notice the quality was unusual, but who was going to examine the waste prince?The room looked different in daylight. Still expensive, still gaudy, but he noticed details now. Dust on the shelves that no servant bothered to clean. A crack in one of the jade ornaments that nobody had fixed. This room was a perfect metaphor for its owner—expensive window dressing over fundamental neglect.Yu Jingming stood and walked to the wardrobe, moving carefully because his muscles were still adjusting to last night's training. Inside hung several sets of robes, all princelyand elaborate. He chose the simplest one, a dark blue hanfu with minimal silver embroidery, and dressed himself slowly.His reflection in the mirror was jarring. He still wasn't used to the black hair, the red eyes. In his previous life, people had recognized Ye Fan from a hundred meters away just by the white hair. Now? He looked like someone else entirely.Maybe that was for the best.He practiced expressions in the mirror for a moment, testing how this face looked when it smiled, when it frowned. The original Yu Jingming had apparently spent most of his time looking apologetic or embarrassed. That needed to change, but gradually. Can't go from doormat to dragon overnight without raising questions.A knock at the door. Different from before—lighter, hesitant."Young master? I've brought breakfast. May I enter?"Female voice. Young. Nervous? He tried to match it with the fragments of memory bleeding through from the original owner. Ah. Xiao Mei, one of the few servants who hadn't actively mocked him. She'd been hired recently, still new enough to treat him with basic courtesy."Come in."The girl who entered was perhaps fourteen, wearing the gray robes of a junior servant. She kept her eyes down as she set a tray on the table near the window—congee, some pickled vegetables, tea that actually smelled decent. Her hands shook slightly as she poured the tea."Will young master need anything else?"Yu Jingming studied her for a moment. In his previous life, he'd had servants who would die for him, and servants who'd sold information about him to his enemies. You learned to tell the difference pretty quickly when you lived at the top.This girl? She was just scared. Probably got assigned to the waste prince because she was too new to refuse."What's your name?" he asked, keeping his tone neutral.She blinked, clearly surprised he was asking. "Xiao Mei, young master.""How long have you worked in the palace?""Three weeks, young master." She was still looking at the floor, shoulders hunched like she expected to be hit. Had the original Yu Jingming hit servants? No, the memories suggested he'd been too passive even for that. But other princes did. She'd learned to be careful."Look at me, Xiao Mei."She did, reluctantly, and her eyes went wide when she met his gaze. Red eyes. He'd forgotten how striking they looked."From now on, you're assigned to my quarters exclusively. Tell the head servant I requested it." He paused, watching her confusion. "You'll find I'm easier to work for than most. I don't care if dust collects on the shelves, and I don't need constant fussing. Bring food, tea, and clean robes when needed. Otherwise, stay out of my way.""I... yes, young master. Thank you, young master."She practically fled, but there was something different in her expression. Surprise, maybe relief. Good. He needed at least one servant he could trust not to poison his food or report his activities. Starting with the scared, grateful one was basic strategy.He ate the congee quickly—it was bland but his body needed fuel—and drank the tea while staring out the window at the palace gardens. From here he could see other buildings, courtyards where servants scurried about their tasks, the distant outer walls where guards patrolled.The Tianshui Kingdom. His new home, apparently. The memories told him it was a mid-tier power, neither particularly strong nor particularly weak among the cultivation world's various nations. The royal family maintained control through a combination of political marriages, military strength, and a surprising number of moderately talented cultivators in the Divine Warrior and Divine Lord realms.Nobody in the Sovereign realm, though. The current king, Yu Jingming's father, was at the peak of Divine King realm. Impressive enough to maintain order, not impressive enough to expand territory or push against the really powerful sects and clans.Ye Fan had been beyond even Sovereign. Had created his own Inner World, manipulated World Laws like they were suggestions rather than rules. And now he was stuck in a body that couldn't even reliably throw a punch.He almost laughed. The irony was too perfect.But cultivation level wasn't everything. He knew things. Secret techniques. Alchemical formulas that wouldn't be discovered for decades. The locations of hidden treasures and ancient ruins. The weaknesses of techniques that were currently considered invincible.Knowledge was power. He just needed time to convert that knowledge into actual strength.The morning bell rang—a deep, resonant sound that echoed across the palace. Assembly time. Yu Jingming stood, straightened his robes, and headed for the door.Time to see what his new family looked like.The main hall was exactly what he expected—massive, ornate, designed to intimidate visitors and remind everyone of the royal family's power. Pillars carved with dragons supported a ceiling painted with scenes of past battles and victories. The throne sat elevated at the far end, currently empty but radiating authority just by existing.Around the hall stood the various princes and princesses, arranged by importance. Yu Jingming's position was near the back, naturally, close to the wall where the least relevant children waited. He recognized some faces from borrowed memories—half-brothers and sisters who ranged from indifferent to actively hostile."Well, look who decided to show up."That voice. Yu Jingming turned his head slightly and found himself looking at Prince Yu Tianlong, third prince and currently the leading candidate for heir. Tall, handsome in a conventional way, with their father's strong jaw and confident bearing. Divine Warrior realm at age twenty-four, which was decent. Not genius level, but solid.Also a complete ass, based on the memories."The assembly was mandatory," Yu Jingming said quietly, keeping his tone neutral. "I came.""I'm surprised you could get out of bed. Heard you were dying from fever." Yu Tianlong's smirk was practiced, designed for an audience. Sure enough, several other princes nearby were watching, some already smiling.This was a test. The original Yu Jingming would've apologized, would've made himself smaller, would've given them the satisfaction of submission.But Yu Jingming wasn't that person."I recovered," he said simply, meeting his half-brother's eyes without flinching. "Strange how that works sometimes."The smirk faltered. Just a fraction, barely visible, but Yu Jingming had spent decades reading opponents in life-or-death situations. Yu Tianlong had expected submission and gotten calm indifference instead. It confused him.Good."You should be more careful, seventh brother," Yu Tianlong said, recovering his composure. "A weak constitution like yours... who knows when the next illness might strike. Could be fatal."Ah. There it was. Not even subtle. The original Yu Jingming had died from a convenient fever three days ago—not actually natural causes, Yu Jingming was starting to suspect."I'll keep that in mind," he said, his tone still neutral, still boring. Not rising to the bait. Not showing fear. Just... existing in a way that gave nothing away.Yu Tianlong stared at him for another moment, clearly trying to figure out what had changed, then turned away with a dismissive gesture. "Try not to embarrass the family during assembly."The conversation ended, but Yu Jingming could feel eyes on him. Other princes who'd witnessed the exchange, servants lingering near the walls, even a few officials who'd arrived early. Word would spread—the waste prince had acted differently. Nothing dramatic, nothing that would cause real concern, but different enough to notice.Perfect. He wanted them slightly off-balance. Curious but not threatened.The main doors opened and everyone straightened as King Yu Zhen entered, followed by his senior advisors and a few high-ranking ministers. The king was exactly what you'd expect—mid-fifties, powerful build even in formal robes, eyes that missed nothing, presence that commanded respect without effort. Peak Divine King realm, and it showed in the way reality seemed to bend slightly around him.Yu Jingming studied his new father carefully. The memories told him King Yu Zhen had fourteen children from eight different wives and concubines, ran the kingdom with an iron fist wrapped in silk, and hadn't spoken directly to his seventh son in at least three years.The king settled onto his throne and the morning assembly began—routine business, mostly. Reports from various ministers about tax collection, military readiness, border disputes with neighboring territories. Yu Jingming listened with half his attention while using the other half to observe the room's dynamics.Who stood where. Who spoke with confidence and who deferred. Which princes paid attention to the business of state and which looked bored. Information, all of it potentially useful."...and the Royal Alchemist wishes to remind all princes and nobles that the alchemy competition will be held in three days," one minister was saying. "Those interested in demonstrating their knowledge should register by tomorrow evening."Yu Jingming's attention sharpened. Alchemy competition. That was interesting. The memories told him the Royal Alchemist was a Rank 5 practitioner named Master Chen, considered quite talented by local standards. A competition would be mostly for show, demonstrating basic principles and maybe some simple pill refinement.For someone with Yu Jingming's knowledge, it would be trivially easy to dominate. But that would be stupid. Too much attention, too many questions. Better to show just enough skill to be noticed without being threatening.He filed the information away and continued observing. The assembly dragged on for another hour, and by the end his body was tired from standing still—this weak prince body had almost no stamina at all. But he'd learned valuable things. Seen the power structure. Identified potential allies and definite enemies.When they were finally dismissed, Yu Jingming headed back to his quarters, moving carefully through the palace corridors. His legs were shaking by the time he reached his door, which was embarrassing but also useful information. He needed to build this body's physical strength alongside his cultivation.Xiao Mei was waiting inside, nervously organizing things that didn't need organizing."Young master! I was just—I mean, I thought—" She looked terrified again."Relax. Did you speak to the head servant?""Yes, young master. She was... surprised by your request, but she approved it."Of course she was surprised. The waste prince never made requests, never exercised even the tiny amount of authority his position granted. Another small change, another ripple."Good. I need you to acquire something for me." He walked to the desk and found ink and paper—the brush felt strange in these hands, but he remembered how to use it. He wrote quickly, listing several common herbs and materials. Nothing expensive or suspicious, all things a beginning cultivator might reasonably request."Take this to the palace stores. Tell them I'm starting basic cultivation training and need these materials. Can you do that?"Xiao Mei took the paper, scanning the list with obvious confusion. She probably couldn't read most of it. "Yes, young master. Should I go now?""Please."She left quickly, and Yu Jingming finally allowed himself to collapse onto his bed. His entire body ached. Last night's cultivation, this morning's standing through assembly, the constant effort of maintaining the mask—it was exhausting in a way that actual combat never had been in his previous life.But it was progress. Small steps. Careful steps. The kind that didn't get you killed before you were ready.He closed his eyes and started cycling his qi again, using techniques that were ludicrously advanced for someone at his level but perfectly suited for building an absolutely flawless foundation. Pain lanced through his meridians, but he ignored it. Pain was temporary. A sloppy foundation would haunt him forever.Two hours later, Xiao Mei returned with a bundle of materials—basic spiritual herbs, some common minerals, nothing impressive. To anyone watching, it looked like a desperate prince trying to start cultivation far too late. To Yu Jingming, these were the building blocks of pills that could accelerate his advancement by months."Thank you, Xiao Mei. That'll be all for today."She bowed and left, and Yu Jingming spread the materials on his desk, examining each one carefully. Quality was mediocre at best, but he'd worked with worse. Back when he was first learning alchemy, he'd refined successful pills from materials other alchemists had thrown away as trash.His fingers moved automatically, sorting herbs by properties, identifying which combinations would be most effective. He couldn't actually refine anything yet—didn't have the equipment, didn't have the privacy, didn't want to risk the attention. But he could plan. Could prepare.Three days until the alchemy competition. That gave him time to advance his cultivation a bit more, to build up some physical strength, to carefully craft his performance. He needed to show knowledge—enough to impress Master Chen and gain access to better resources. But not skill. Not yet. Theory was safe. Actual pill refinement at too high a level would raise too many questions.He smiled, fingers still tracing patterns through the herbs on his desk.Playing weak was harder than actually being weak. You had to remember what not to do, what not to say, how to stumble just enough to seem believable without actually failing. It was a performance that required constant attention.But Ye Fan had survived fifty years at the peak of the cultivation world, surrounded by people who wanted him dead, his techniques, his formulas, his Inner World. He'd played games of politics and power that made palace intrigue look like children arguing over toys.This? This was just another game. And this time, he knew all the rules before anyone else even realized they were playing.Yu Jingming began to plan his next moves, his red eyes reflecting candlelight in the darkening room, his fingers still sorting herbs with the unconscious precision of a true master pretending to be a desperate amateur.Three days. Then the alchemy competition. Then everything would begin to change, slowly and carefully, like poison seeping into water—invisible until it was far too late to stop.
