The dim glow of lanterns flickered across the stone walls of the Alliance's underground meeting chamber, casting long shadows that seemed to twist with every whispered conspiracy. While Zhuo Yi-Fan, the High Venerable, and Long Jiu remained engrossed in their discussion at the chamber's far end—their voices a low hum—the younger disciples clustered around the 2nd Venerable, crippled(Gloomy Gray) alike whose once-formidable presence was now diminished to discuss their own conspiracies.

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  Golden Black, ever the strongest of the Alliance disciples(Even with Peak Qi Refining Bright Blue still around), exchanged a meaningful glance with his more devious counterpart, Deep Black. With a subtle jerk of his chin, he signaled for him to intercept the now Peak Qi Refining, Flood Dragon Venerable, who stood near the Supreme Strategist's group, his young frame draped in robes that shimmered faintly in the lantern light.

  "Flood Dragon Venerable!" Golden Black called out, his voice a mix of reverence and concealed excitement. The elder turned, his eyes narrowing slightly at the interruption.

  Deep Black, stepped forward with a respectful bow before Golden Black could blunder. "Esteemed Venerable, we seek your wisdom."

  The Flood Dragon Venerable exhaled through his nose, a sound like steam escaping a boiling cauldron. "Speak."

  Bright Blue and White Jade came close.

  Golden Black, unable to contain himself, leaned in. "Flood dragon Venerable! 2nd Venerable! Who is this Zhuo Yi-Fan really? Where did he come from? Isn't the Supreme Strategist position he has just an empty title, if not then why does the Alliance Head Old Zhu respect his skills and opinions so much?"

  A ripple of murmurs spread through the gathered disciples, even Gloomy Gray participated equally, now over her grief of the crippled cultivation as she now has ways to deal with it.

  The Flood Dragon Venerable's expression darkened, his brow furrowing. "Do the juniors no longer bother to research? To wander and look? That man came from seemingly nowhere, created an entire alliance of villages, towns and bandits in 2 months, increased the number of cultivators in the area, posted mortal Elders as entities higher than even Foundation Establishment realm Venerables, created an entirely new position with such a grand name, and all you people know about him is that he is just an ordinary advisor with a lengthy title?"

  Deep Black, raised a placating hand. "We thought those were baseless rumors, and in fact Head Zhu brought all together with his diplomatic and administrative skills!"

  A chorus of agreement rose from the disciples.

  "Have you all noticed that the revenue our Alliance makes is much more than before?"

  "Absolutely! That's what allowed so many of our juniors to begin cultivation!"

  The Flood Dragon Venerable's laughter was a short, derisive bark. "And who do you think helped? Who devised the systems that tripled crop yields in the western valleys? Who restructured trade routes to avoid tribute taxes from sects and bandits factions? Who healed wandering cultivators—men who almost spat at the idea of loyalty—and made into sworn Venerables of our cause with his superior medicinal knowledge?"

  Golden Black's eyes widened. "The..... Supreme Strategist, as seen now with this miracle surgery."

  "Exactly." The Venerable's voice dripped with finality. "And that is just about his current abilities."

  A hush fell over the group. Even Gloomy Gray seemed shaken.

  Golden Black, emboldened, pressed further. "Then... what of his past? Where did he come from?"

  The Flood Dragon Venerable's gaze grew distant, "Does anyone have any hints about his background?"

  Deep Black frowned.

  Golden Black's mind raced. "I think I do! I saw that he had critical knowledge about Qi and foundation layers that even I lacked that he shared in the surgery. I suspect that he is actually a former cultivator who was at Mid or Late Qi Refining realm! Perhaps he is from the incredible Zhuo Clan of the Fallen Peak City."

  The Flood Dragon Venerable's lips curled into a knowing smirk. He praised Golden Black's theorising- "He is indeed of a powerful lineage—but not from the Zhuo Clan, he changed his name after leaving it. "He is not from the Zhuo Clan of Fallen Peak City, but actually from the slightly inferior Lin Clan of the Drifting Clouds' City! He was not a Qi Refiner but actually a Peak Foundation Establishment realm expert who was on the brink of breakthrough!"

  A collective gasp.

  [That's... a month's journey of continuous travel! We never expected him to be from such a far away place!]

  Silence settled over the chamber, thick and heavy. Somewhere in the shadows, a droplet of water struck stone—a slow, rhythmic echo, like the ticking of a clock counting down to something inevitable.

  A thick curtain of incense smoke coiled through the underground chamber as the 2nd Venerable began his tale, Long Jiu, High Venerable and Zhuo Yi-Fan still unbothered. The disciples leaned forward, their shadows stretching like grasping fingers across the uneven stone floor. The only light came from a single flickering spirit lamp, its ember flame casting ghostly reflections in the whites of their eager eyes.

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  The afternoon sun blazed over Drifting Clouds' City, turning the paved streets into shimmering rivers of heat. The scent of sizzling street food mixed with the metallic tang of newly forged spiritual tools from nearby smithies. Suddenly, the rhythmic *clop-clop-clop* of hooves on flagstones cut through the market's din.

  A young master advanced down the main thoroughfare astride a warhorse sheathed in gold-scale armor that scattered sunlight like shattered mirrors. His eight bodyguards moved with mechanical precision, their armored boots striking the ground in perfect unison. The crowd erupted—not in fearful scattering, but in genuine jubilation. Flower petals rained from upper windows as merchants abandoned their stalls to catch a glimpse. The front guard raises his hand, prepared to announce, however a line of horse-drawn carts already pulled aside without command, their drivers taking glimpses.

  From the crowd, a dust-covered sect disciple grabbed an old man's arm who was attending to him. "Who is that?", His voice cracked with exhaustion. "I just returned from my sect and hence don't recognize this new dashing Young master!"

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The old merchant's laughter rang out like a cracked bell. "Ha-ha-ha! Son, that's the Lin Clan's 9th Young Master!" He rubbed his nose, "Started as just another nameless bastard—Patriarch's get with some street dancer. She dropped the infant off at the Clan's gate after he was born—presumably disappointed to see him have no special talents for cultivation.

  Around them, the crowd's roar surged as the young master passed. Children scrambled onto rooftops for a better view.

  He was obviously raised among the Servants, Stewards and petty Alchemists, the merchant continued, shouting over the noise. "Exiled at thirteen with a pittance of above-average resources. Then—*boom!*—returns years later as a Peak Qi Refining expert!" He jabbed a calloused finger at the disciple's chest. "The eldest young master? Only Qi Refining 7th stage at 17, 2 years older than him, that too with the clan's resources! The shame made them reinstate him as 9th Young Master on the spot and refused to exile any more bastards and servants without proper appraisal of their potential!"

  The boy's hand flew to his sword hilt. The son, disciple of the Heaven Fleeting Demons Sect enquired- "That speed is unheard of! Atleast without some or the other Sect's backing or rare meridians or a rare physique! Did he steal some Ancient inheritance of the Lin Clan while leaving or something?"

  "Son, in fact, he was no talentless, The merchant grinned, revealing a golden canine tooth. "He had the legendary Heaven-grade Elemental Mastery meridians *and* Elemental Harmony Physique!" A nearby tea vendor grinned, nearly spilling the tea she had in her hand. "With any one of them, one can practice all five attributes' arts without the need of Spiritual roots!"

  The disciple staggered back as if struck. "His mother must curse her blindness!", he breathed. "Ha-ha-ha! A single one of those will earn you high respect in even the Superior grade sects! He truly is a 1 in a 100 million talent!"

  The father smirked at his son- "Talents can be had only with luck, you can change and upgrade only your knowledge and morals. Him being a talent is not the most surprising, him being humble and respectful to us mortals is what is making all these pedestrians anticipate and respect his arrival! That's why the stones themselves seem to bow when he passes. He personally went to the outskirts of a vassal village to help grow crops there, returning just now, 2 days before his 16th birthday."

  As the procession rounded the corner, a single gold scale fell from the warhorse's armor. The merchant caught it deftly—a treasure he'd later enshrine above his shop door.

  [My business will bloom with this at its front door!]

  The merchant chuckled.

  Children's paper cranes rained down in fluttering waves, each fold carrying youthful enthusiasm. The guards maintained their disciplined formation, but with subtle tilts of their heads and slight shifts of their shoulders, they avoided the most direct hits to their faces. Cranes that would have smacked between their eyes instead fluttered past their ears or bounced harmlessly off armored shoulders.

  One particularly well-folded crane spiraled toward the lead guard's nose. With a movement so slight it might have been mistaken for a breeze, he turned his head just enough to let it sail past—only to snatch it from the air behind him with two fingers—not even directly looking at it. He examined it critically before tucking it into his belt with a barely perceptible nod of approval.

  The warhorses, trained for far bloodier battles, now stepped with improbable care, their hooves miraculously finding the few gaps between fallen paper treasures. A stallion even paused mid-stride to let a wayward crane flutter safely to the ground before continuing.

  At the forefront of the rooftop assault, a gap-toothed child waved a freshly folded crane like a general's banner. "Aim for the shiny one!" she commanded, pointing at a guard whose helmet gleamed particularly bright in the sun. The guards exchanged glances—was that resignation or amusement in their eyes?

  As the procession passed, a veteran guardsman casually gestured to a nearby fruit seller. "The blue one by your foot," he murmured. The merchant, suppressing a smile, retrieved the slightly crumpled crane and handed it up to the rider, who secured it carefully in his saddlebag alongside two others.

  [What remarkable design! I've never seen someone make a canon with paper! A new technique developed this year for sure, it will spread like wildfire throughout the entire Zhou Dynasty]

  Lin Qi-Fan observed this all from his golden-armored steed.

  The sun hung high over Drifting Clouds’ City as Lin Qi-Fan’s procession continued wounding through the bustling streets. The air hummed with excitement—flower petals rained from windows, merchants bowed, and children leaned precariously from rooftops, their laughter ringing like wind chimes.

  Then, cutting through the noise—a sharp *whoosh*.

  Lin Qi-Fan’s hand snapped up, catching the projectile midair. His fingers unfolded to reveal a meticulously crafted paper airplane, its wings razor-straight, the body creased with geometric precision.

  "Huh," Qi-Fan mused, tilting it toward the sunlight. "This is—"

  *"Infuse it with qi,"* Zhuo Yi-Fan’s voice echoed inside his skull.

  Qi-Fan hesitated. "Bro, you sure? It’s just a kid’s—"

  *"Do it."*

  With a sigh, Qi-Fan channeled a wisp of qi into the paper.

  —*BOOM.*

  A concussive blast of air erupted from his palm, sending nearby guards staggering. The paper airplane disintegrated in a shower of sparks, its remnants fluttering to the ground like dying fireflies.

  Silence. Then—chaos.

  *"ASSASSIN!"* roared the lead guard, his sword already drawn. The retinue moved as one, qi flaring as they pinpointed the culprit—a boy no older than Qi-Fan himself, still crouched on a nearby rooftop, his eyes wide with shock.

  The Heaven Fleeting Sect's disciple was confused on why Lin Qi-Fan chose to blow it up himself.

  [Just curiosity I suppose. That's how most Great Elders die, curious of new modern traps, they intentionally jump in them.]

  Before the child could flee, two guards blurred into motion, their movements sealing the boy’s meridians with practiced efficiency. They hauled him down the roof, forcing him to his knees before Lin Qi-Fan.

  Qi-Fan studied the trembling boy, then glanced at the charred scraps in his palm.

  "Yo, Yi-Fan,"** he muttered internally. "Explain."

  Zhuo Yi-Fan’s presence surged forward, his analytical tone cutting through Qi-Fan’s thoughts. "Look closer. Those weren’t just designs—they were pseudo-meridians. Talisman ink on blotting paper. Guy accidentally mapped a self-destruct array into the damn thing."

  Qi-Fan’s eyebrows shot up. "No way. Him?"

  "Either a genius or someone’s puppet. Check the wreckage."

  Qi-Fan crouched, sifting through the debris. Sure enough, faint silver and brown lines glimmered along the torn edges—precise, intentional channels mimicking qi pathways.

  "Bro," Qi-Fan whispered, impressed. "This is some next-level origami."

  Yi-Fan’s mental scoff was almost audible. "Kid turned paper into a combustible seal. If he’d used proper materials, you’d be missing a hand."

  Qi-Fan opened his mouth to question the boy—then froze. His pupils dilated, his posture shifting subtly as Zhuo Yi-Fan seized control.

  The guards stiffened. They knew that look.

  "You." Yi-Fan’s voice, cool and measured, addressed the lead guard barely glancing at him. "Reward him. Gold. Spirit stones. An invitation to my birthday party and directly to my personal chambers, suited to his ingenuity."

  The guard blinked. "Young Master, he just—"

  "—was testing a hypothesis," Yi-Fan interrupted. "Poorly executed, but due to laziness. Still conceptually brilliant." He finally turned, his gaze pinning the boy. "You wanted to see if Talisman ink on various kinds of paper surfaces, especially blotting papers which make the channels have depth, could channel qi. Correct?"

  The boy, still shaking, nodded once.

  Yi-Fan smirked. "Next time, use lower grade blotting paper. And more oil-based ink. The diametres of the 3D channels were too big with respect to the size of the blotting paper. Also don't ever accidentally fold it, or you'll short circuit it all and blow it up again." He flicked his sleeve. "Dismissed."

  As the guards hurried to obey, Yi-Fan turned to the lead guard. "You’re relieved."

  "What?"

  "Temporarily, I am giving you a different job. Talk to him and find out about his general details. I’ll take your position." Yi-Fan adjusted the man’s helmet with eerie calm and a smile. "Symmetry matters. The formation will look intentional even in your absence "

  The guard’s jaw dropped.

  "Oh, and?" Yi-Fan added, already walking away. "Find out who taught that child about meridians. If it was independent study…" He glanced back, eyes gleaming. "We’ll recruit him."

  Lin Qi-Fan regained control over his left arm with a mental grumble. "Dude. Warn me before you possess my limbs."

  "You’d have botched it," Yi-Fan replied. "Also, the kid’s design? It’s a scaled-down version of a human hand. Profound-grade meridians. He tried to make a one-time-use hand replacement, useful for physically crippled to participate in arrays and techniques which require full use of all body parts."

  Qi-Fan whistled. "So either a prodigy or..."

  "Or someone’s testing us. Hence the guard swap."

  Ahead, the procession resumed—now with Yi-Fan (In Qi-Fan's body) marching stiffly in the lead guard’s spot, his scowl perfectly mirroring the man’s usual expression.

  Qi-Fan sighed. "You’re ridiculous."

  "Symmetry," Zhuo repeated, and Lin could *feel* the eye-roll. "Now shut up and look regal."

  Somewhere behind them, the boy clutched his new riches, his earlier fear replaced by starry-eyed awe.

  And on the wind, the faintest whisper of paper fluttering—as if the city itself was folding into something new.