As the first light of dawn filtered through the valley, Chen Yuheng stepped out of his room, ready to blend into the daily life of the Chen Clan. The morning air was crisp, alive with the sounds of chirping birds and the rustling of leaves. He made his way through the corridors of the ancestral hall, passing by the ornate decorations that told tales of his family’s lineage. The clan members were already stirring, gossiping and preparing for the day ahead.

Yuheng walked among his cousins, their laughter ringing in the air like the clinking of coins. They eyed him with the familiar mix of mockery and disdain, open jeers directed at the boy they deemed a waste. “Look at Yuheng, still pretending to practice,” one cousin sneered, his friends joining in the laughter. “Maybe if he spent less time daydreaming, he wouldn’t be the joke of the clan.”

Yuheng’s expression remained calm, a practised smile in place as he absorbed the taunts like water off a duck’s back. Beneath the surface, however, a storm brewed. They thought him weak, but each jeer only fueled his cunning resolve. He would play the fool for now, allowing them to underestimate him.

His siblings were different. Chen Yulin, his younger brother, walked by his side, a fierce protective instinct shining in his dark eyes. Though he was still young and inexperienced, Yulin possessed a fire that sparked hope within Yuheng. “Ignore them, brother,” Yulin said, his voice earnest. “You’re stronger than they think.”

“Don’t worry about me, Yulin,” Yuheng replied, ruffling his brother’s hair affectionately. “I can take care of myself.”

On the other side, his younger sister, Chen Yueru, watched with pitying eyes. “I believe in you, Yuheng,” she said softly, her innocence a stark contrast to the harshness of their cousins. “One day, you’ll show them how strong you really are.”

Her words warmed his heart, a reminder of the reasons he fought to protect his family. Yuheng wanted to shield them from the harsh realities of clan politics and the dangers lurking within their own branches.

As the day progressed, whispers of rivalry began to fill the air. Yuheng had sensed the undercurrents of tension brewing within the clan, particularly from a faction that sought to undermine his family’s influence. This group, led by Chen Longwei’s father, a minor elder of the clan, had been plotting for some time. They resented Lady Lin's connections to the Alchemy Tower, which elevated his family’s status beyond what they deemed appropriate.

“Those fools think they can push us out,” Yuheng overheard one of the elders say, his voice low and conspiratorial. “With the youth test coming up, we need to ensure Chen Zheng is embarrassed. That will teach them a lesson about knowing their place.”

Yuheng’s heart raced as he listened, his mind already racing with possibilities. He understood the stakes—they wanted to dismantle his family’s standing, to plant seeds of conflict and chaos. But instead of confronting them, he filed the information away silently. Let them think him a fool. “They think me a fool… Let them. The closer they lean toward me, the sharper the knife will sink when the time comes,” he thought, a chilling resolve settling within him.

Later that afternoon, Yuheng found himself drawn to the training grounds, where a sparring match was underway under the watchful eye of a 3rd-level master. A group of young clan members had gathered, eagerly watching as Chen Bo, one of Longwei’s lackeys, faced off against another cousin in a heated exchange of strikes. Yuheng observed from the shadows, keenly aware of the unfolding drama.

The boys exchanged blows, their Qi flashing faintly in the sunlight as they demonstrated their skills. Yuheng noticed Chen Bo’s habit of misplacing his foot slightly during certain techniques, a tendency that could lead to slipping. It was a flaw that should have been easily correctable—except when he faced Yuheng.

As the match continued, Yuheng flicked a small pebble from his hiding spot, sending it rolling beneath Chen Bo’s heel. The moment proved to be fateful. Bo was caught off guard, his footing disrupted. He stumbled, and in that instant, the pebble sent him sprawling directly into his opponent’s strike.

Yuheng winced as he watched the impact unfold. Bo’s arm twisted at an unnatural angle, the crack of bone echoing in the air like a thunderclap. A hush fell over the training grounds as the reality of the injury set in. Bo lay on the ground, clutching his arm, disbelief etched across his face as the sharp pain coursed through him.

“I can’t… It's too Painful,” Bo shouted, panic rising in his voice. The cheers from the sidelines turned to gasps, and immediate concern replaced the excitement of the spar. Yuheng observed the elders rushing to Bo’s side, assessing the damage, their expressions a mix of shock and sympathy.

An elder doctor knelt beside the fallen boy, examining the injury. “You’ve broken your arm, Chen Bo. You’ll need at least one and a half months of rest to heal properly,” he murmured, shaking his head sadly. “This means you won’t be able to participate in the clan event next month.”

In that moment, Yuheng felt a flicker of satisfaction. While he had not directly harmed Bo, the incident would undoubtedly serve to bolster his family’s standing while diminishing Chen Bo’s chances in the upcoming youth test. It was a subtle yet decisive manoeuvre—one that demonstrated his ability to remove obstacles without exposing himself.

As the crowd gathered around the injured Chen Bo, Yuheng slipped away, his heart racing with the thrill of his first ruthless action. He had learned a valuable lesson today: sometimes, the most effective way to assert power was through careful observation and calculated inaction.

That night, as the moon cast a silvery glow across the valley, Yuheng returned to his chamber, his mind racing with thoughts of the Eternal Desolation technique. He settled into a meditative position, closing his eyes to centre himself. The familiar pain of his earlier headaches faded away, replaced by a strange energy coursing through him. He sensed the technique awakening, whispering promises of power and dominance.

As he meditated, he whispered a chilling line, his voice barely more than a breath: “A sheep does not fight wolves. A wolf devours them, one by one.” The words resonated within him, solidifying his resolve to rise above the scorn and mockery, to become the predator among the prey.

In that moment, he understood that he was no longer just a boy hiding behind a mask of gentility. He was a wolf, ready to navigate the treacherous landscape of clan politics and emerge victorious.