In the Faerie Realm, Lord Muchen stood alone in a remote area, as if standing on a field of nails digging into his feet. Sharp, cold winds whispered through the barren trees. Across from him, a hooded figure loomed like a shadow, half of his face hidden by his cloak as he delivered his report.

"So, Feng Deming is distracted?" Muchen's voice cut through the silence.

The man inclined his head, the motion quick and respectful. "Yes, my Lord."

A dark flicker crossed Muchen's eyes, the tension around him tightening like a drawn bow. "You are dismissed."

The man bowed before vanishing into the night as silent as he had come, like a wisp of smoke, his movements almost invisible.

Lord Muchen returned to the palace and sat on his throne in the grand hall. His fingers curled around the armrests with such force that the smooth, cool surface beneath his palms creaked. His knuckles, pale against the darker, polished surface, stood out as a tremor ran through his hand, simmering behind his steely gaze.

"With Feng Deming preoccupied, we have a golden opportunity to strike and shatter his forces," Muchen's low voice reverberated through the chamber. "His reign has brought nothing but fear to our kind. If we act now, we can weaken his rule and restore harmony to our realm." His jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed into a hard, unyielding glare. The muscle in his temple twitched beneath his calm facade.

From the corner, a man stepped forward, his approach cautious, like a prey animal sensing the predator's eyes upon him. His gaze darted around the room, his movements jittery, as if the very air around Muchen might crush him. "If I may, Lord Muchen," his voice trembled.

Muchen's gaze sharpened as he leaned forward, giving a curt nod. "Speak, god of wisdom."

The man drew a breath, gathering his thoughts as if piecing together a delicate puzzle. "There is a possibility that Feng Deming's distraction is a ruse—perhaps he is planning an assault on our realm. A preemptive strike against Astara could be our best course of action."

A heavy silence fell over the council, their faces set like stone as they exchanged looks. One by one, they nodded.

Muchen's lips twisted into a thin, satisfied smile as his voice carried through the room. "Yize has already begun to train our warriors and sharpen their skills for the battles ahead. If we cannot kill Feng Deming, we must find a way to get rid of him."