The funeral smoke had barely faded when the Lu Clan's smiling vultures arrived.
Chen Yuan sat on the old courtyard wall, legs dangling carelessly, watching three green-robed messengers climb the steps with their perfect polite faces. He didn't need to hear their words. Their careful distance said everything.
Lu Qingxue had not come herself.
Of course she hadn't. The young miss "regretted" that mourning customs prevented her personal attendance. She would discuss "mutual concerns" when he was "well enough."
Chen Yuan had burned the letter immediately. Watching the ashes scatter felt strangely satisfying.
At thirteen years old, he understood a simple truth: in this world, being weak was dangerous, but looking weak while planning your next move was a skill.
He had been practicing that skill for years.
Every normal child in the Chen Clan bonded a Mortal-grade spirit beast at age ten. He had tried five times. Each attempt ended in humiliation. The gentle wolves whined and ran. One ox spirit pretended to sleep. A small serpent panicked so badly it broke a servant's arm trying to escape him.
The healer called it a Dormant Soul — too deep for ordinary contracts.
His mother used to laugh and say his soul was just "fashionably late." Now she was gone, and the joke tasted bitter.
When the messengers finally left, his father, Chen Lian, approached. The man moved like his bonded Stone Rhino — heavy, deliberate, and always carrying the weight of a declining clan.
"The engagement is not dissolved," his father said quietly.
Chen Yuan gave a small, sharp smile. "Of course not. They just sent three people to say she's not interested. That's practically a love poem in noble language."
His father sighed. "In three days, Lu Qingxue will come with her proposal. A so-called 'mutual cultivation technique.' She wants to use your condition."
Chen Yuan's eyes narrowed slightly, but his voice stayed light. Use me as a stepping stone? Interesting. Let's see who ends up using who.
"Father, if I'm going to be a living battery, at least make sure they pay good interest."
Chen Lian placed an old iron key in his son's palm. "Your mother left something for you. Go to the hidden cellar beneath the east storehouse tonight. If it works… good. If not, disappear before they arrive. I will not let them turn my only son into a tool."
That night, Chen Yuan sneaked into the cellar. He knocked over a wine jar, cursed quietly, then laughed at himself. "Even my sneaking is Dormant. Impressive."
Behind the third rack, the ancient stone door crumbled when he touched it with the key. The small round chamber below smelled of dust and old power.
In the center stood a black pedestal. On it rested a large rough hard lump of egg rock, irregular and heavy, with a surface like cracked stone mixed with dried blood and storm clouds.
Chen Yuan picked it up. It felt warm and strangely heavy.
"Well, aren't you an ugly rock," he muttered with a smirk. "But at least you didn't run away screaming like the others. That's progress."
He sat cross-legged on the cold floor and held it against his chest.
"I know I'm broken," he whispered. "But I'm also very patient. And I remember who owes me. If you wake up… we'll make them pay. Slowly. Creatively. Maybe with interest."
The rough egg rock pulsed.
Once.
Twice.
Three times — syncing perfectly with his heartbeat.
A faint inner glow appeared, growing stronger.
Chen Yuan's lips curved into a sharp, cunning smile. "There we go. Welcome to the family, partner. Try not to be as useless as me."
Outside, thunder rolled across a clear sky.
He chuckled softly in the darkness.
The game had just begun.