The hug lasted exactly 3.7 seconds. During that time, Kenji's brain, a supercomputer forged in the most hostile boardrooms on planet Earth, experienced the equivalent of a denial-of-service attack. Xiao Yue's euphoria was a variable he hadn't included in any risk model: a force of nature, a wave of gratitude so pure it threatened to short-circuit his logic. The red mark burning on his cheek was the empirical proof, sensory data he could not ignore.
"Post-enhancement thermal runaway," he muttered to himself, touching the irritated skin with a purely clinical fascination. "An unforeseen operational side effect. The best practices memo will have to be updated."
Xiao Yue, who had finally managed to contain a laugh that was bubbling up from her soul, looked at him with her golden eyes, now shining with a new and dangerous light. The joy of her breakthrough was still there, an electric current under her skin, but it was anchored by a new layer of awareness.
"Kenji, my power feels… immense," she said, her voice a whisper heavy with awe. "But it's like trying to hold a raging river in a teacup. I feel like it's going to overflow, that it's going to break the cup."
"Your assessment is functionally correct," Kenji confirmed, instantly switching back to his strategist mode; the hug and burnt-cheek incident were already filed away in the "Anomalous Interactions with Primary Asset" folder. "We have successfully executed a massive upgrade to your skill portfolio and control level. However, your physical infrastructure, your corporeal assets, have not kept pace. Your energy output rate now exceeds the load capacity of your meridians. It's a classic logistical bottleneck, an accelerated growth problem."
"And what's the solution, CEO?" she asked, the title now a mixture of respect and fond complicity. "Another restructuring plan that leaves me on the brink of death?"
"Negative. The solution is not a new protocol, but a tangible capital investment," Kenji declared. "You need a mid-grade Constitution-Strengthening Pill. It doesn't increase your Qi, it doesn't give you more raw power; it's an infrastructure upgrade. It widens and reinforces your meridians, increases the elasticity of your spiritual fibers. It turns your teacup into a reinforced steel cauldron. It will allow you to manage your new power level without the risk of… thermal runaways or systemic failures. It's a necessary investment to protect the primary asset—that is, you."
Xiao Yue nodded, the business logic, as always, crushing. "And how do I get one? I doubt they sell them at the city market next to the cabbages."
"Resource Acquisition Protocol, step one: official channels," Kenji explained. "Your performance has exceeded all projections. Master Wei, despite his obsolete teaching methods, is a line manager who values quantifiable results. He will be your point of entry. Present your case to him. The logic of your request is irrefutable: a high-performance asset requires a maintenance investment to prevent degradation and maximize its long-term potential."
"I'll go right now," she said, a new determination hardening her features. There was no longer any doubt, only a plan of action.
The main training ground was buzzing with the energy of hundreds of disciples. The sound of dull thuds against practice dummies, shouts of exertion, and the whistle of Qi cutting through the air created a cacophony of effort and ambition. When Xiao Yue crossed the courtyard, the stares that followed her were no longer ones of pity. They were a mixture of awe, envy, and a healthy touch of fear. Her victory over Shi Teng had catapulted her from a footnote to the main topic of every conversation. She was a volatile stock, and everyone wanted to know if she would soar or crash.
She found Master Wei overseeing a group of Jade Ring disciples. The burly man, whose beard seemed as rigid as his opinions, saw her approach and his expression, normally a frown of perpetual dissatisfaction, softened into something that could almost be called pride.
"Young Lady Xiao Yue," he said, his voice a growl that tried to be gentle. "Do you need guidance? Although, frankly, I'm not sure I have anything to teach you right now. Your control… your understanding of Qi… it's on another level."
"Master Wei," she greeted with a respectful bow, yet one filled with a new confidence. "I come to make a formal request. My recent breakthrough has been… substantial. I feel my Qi is denser, more potent, but my body, my foundation, is struggling to contain it. It is like pouring new wine into old wineskins; the wineskins are at risk of bursting."
She laid out her need with a clarity and logic she had absorbed from Kenji, speaking of her body not in corporate terms, but with the metaphors of a serious cultivator who understands her own path.
Wei listened to her, nodding slowly, his face growing more and more impressed. This was not the plea of a spoiled child asking for a sweet; it was the strategic analysis of a true prodigy.
"Ha! I knew it!" he boomed, slapping his own thigh with a loud smack that made the nearby disciples jump. "Talent! That's what it is! A true talent not only grows, but understands the needs of their growth! They feel the cracks in their own foundation before the building collapses! Of course, young lady. A mid-grade Constitution-Strengthening Pill is exactly what you need. It's the most sensible investment the clan could make."
Xiao Yue's heart leaped with hope. It had been easier than she thought.
"I'll draft the request myself," Wei continued, his enthusiasm growing like a bonfire. "With my seal and my personal recommendation, no one will dare deny you!"
But then, a shadow crossed his face. He paused, his enthusiasm hitting the invisible but insurmountable wall of clan bureaucracy.
"However…" he muttered, and the cheerful tone vanished, replaced by a veteran's resignation, "there is a protocol. A resource of this value… a mid-grade pill is not a simple supplement. It's a clan treasure. My approval is necessary, but not sufficient. It requires the final signature of the head disciple, the clan heir."
The name didn't need to be spoken. It hung in the air between them, cold and heavy as a granite slab.
Zian.
Xiao Yue's hope deflated like a pricked balloon. Master Wei, seeing the shadow return to her eyes, gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
"Don't worry," he said, trying to convince himself as much as her. "This isn't a matter of favoritism, but of merit and the future of the clan. You have proven your worth in a way no one can deny. Not even your brother, as proud as he is, can ignore the facts. The law of the clan is the law of the clan. It will support talent. Come, we will go to his quarters together. We will do this by the book."
Zian's private courtyard was a monument to excess. Unlike the austere functionality of Matriarch Feng's quarters or the serene simplicity of Xiao Yue's pavilion, everything here screamed opulence and inherited power. Dragon-shaped bronze censers exhaled a dense, sandalwood-scented smoke, rugs made from the silk of exotic beasts covered the ground, and two bored-looking handmaidens fanned him with large peacock feathers, despite the cool morning breeze.
Zian was reclining on a lacquered wood divan, dressed in robes of a brocade so fine it seemed woven from liquid moonlight. His two lackeys, Huo and Lin, stood on either side like shadowy statues, mirroring their master's arrogance.
When Master Wei and Xiao Yue were announced, Zian didn't even sit up. He gave them a slow, dismissive look, as if they were a particularly uninteresting insect that had crawled onto his rug.
"Master Wei. Little sister," he said, his voice dragging out the words with an insulting boredom. "To what do I owe the displeasure of interrupting my meditation?"
Master Wei, a man accustomed to martial discipline and respect, ignored the slight. He stepped forward and presented the formal request, a roll of high-quality parchment sealed with his own sigil.
"Young Master Zian," he began, his tone that of a formal clan officer, "I am here to request the allocation of a clan resource for Young Lady Xiao Yue. Her recent breakthrough was extraordinary, as all witnessed. Her power now exceeds her body's capacity. To ensure her continued growth and prevent a potential Qi deviation injury, a mid-grade Constitution-Strengthening Pill is not just advisable, but necessary for the future of the clan."
Zian took the scroll that Lin offered him. He didn't read it. He simply held it between two fingers, as if it stank. A slow, cruel smile, full of sadistic pleasure, spread across his lips.
"A Constitution-Strengthening Pill?" he repeated, savoring each syllable like it was an exquisite wine. "For her?"
He looked at Xiao Yue, his cold eyes raking over her from head to toe. She held his gaze, her face a mask of calm, her heart hammering against her ribs to the rhythm of a four-seven-eight breathing cycle. Don't react, analyze. He's expecting an emotional response. Kenji's mantra was her only shield.
"Master Wei, I appreciate your… zeal," Zian continued, his tone dripping with condescension. "But I believe you are confusing a stroke of luck with genuine talent. To allocate such a valuable resource to…" he made a vague, dismissive gesture toward Xiao Yue, "her, would be a waste. A bad investment in a lineage that has already proven to be… disappointing."
The insult was direct, personal, and brutal. It didn't attack her skill, but her very blood.
"Young Master, that's absurd!" Wei protested, his face flushing with anger. "Her ability is undeniable! To deny her the resources to grow is to sabotage the clan itself! It goes against the Dao of cultivation!"
"Sabotage?" Zian laughed, finally sitting up and getting to his feet. He approached them slowly, his presence filling the room with an arrogant pressure. "I call it prudence. My duty as the heir is to ensure the clan's resources are invested in proven champions. In cultivators of noble birth and stable power. Like me. Not in… family failures who suddenly learn a few tricks."
With a deliberate and theatrical motion, Zian crumpled the scroll in his hand, turning Master Wei's formal request into a wrinkled ball of paper.
"The request," he said, dropping the ball to the ground and crushing it under the tip of his silk boot, "is denied."
The silence that followed was absolute, broken only by the soft whisper of the handmaidens' fans. The humiliation was total, a public slap in the face not only to Xiao Yue, but to Master Wei as well.
The Master was livid. The vein in his forehead throbbed with restrained fury.
"This is an outrage!" he roared, finally losing his composure. "You are putting your personal pride before the well-being of the clan! I will appeal directly to the Sect Master! Your father will know of this injustice!"
Zian smiled, a smile that didn't reach his cold eyes.
"Oh, really? Try it."
He took another step, his face inches from Wei's, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper that only the three of them could hear.
"My father, the Sect Master, will not be bothered by the trifles of his other daughter," he said, loading the word "other" with deep contempt. "And if you try to reach him with this matter, not only will I ensure that Xiao Yue never receives so much as a single spirit herb again, but I will also remember your… insolence, when I take my place as Sect Master."
The threat was unequivocal and brutal. He wasn't just blocking Xiao Yue; he was threatening the future of a respected Master.
Master Wei recoiled as if he'd been struck. The anger on his face was replaced by a bitter, defeated helplessness. He had hit a wall. Not a wall of logic or protocol, but a wall of pure, absolute family power. The system wasn't broken; it was working exactly as Zian intended.
"Now, if you'll excuse me," Zian said, returning to his divan with the arrogance of an emperor who has just crushed an insignificant rebellion, "I have more important matters to attend to than managing my family's failures. You may leave."
Xiao Yue said nothing. There were no tears. There were no screams. Her face was a marble mask. She bent down, picked up the crumpled ball of parchment from the floor, and carefully smoothed it out. Then, without a word, she turned and walked out of the courtyard, her back as straight as a sword.
Master Wei followed her, a man visibly aged ten years in ten minutes.
The walk back to the Silent Bamboo Pavilion was the longest of Xiao Yue's life. The whispers and stares from the disciples who had witnessed her humiliation from afar were like wasps. They no longer looked at her with fear or awe. They looked at her with pity. The black swan had been plucked and thrown back into the mud.
She didn't realize she had reached her pavilion until the familiar scent of bamboo and damp earth enveloped her. She entered the clearing, the site of her triumphs, which now felt like an empty stage.
She stopped in the center, staring at the crumpled scroll in her hand. The denied request. The proof that all her effort, all her pain, all of Kenji's genius, meant nothing against the simple reality that she was not the favored child.
Logic had failed. Efficiency had been defeated. The system wasn't a machine to be optimized; it was a weapon, and it had just been fired directly at her heart.
The calm finally broke. A single, gut-wrenching sob escaped her lips, a sound of pure rage and helpless frustration. With a cry that held all her years of humiliation, she threw the scroll to the ground and slammed her bare fist into a training post.
CRACK.
This time, it wasn't the sound of her power breaking the target. It was the sound of her own heart breaking against the immovable wall of hierarchy. The prototype had been a success, but the market was rigged. And for the first time since their strange alliance began, Xiao Yue had no idea what the next step in the plan would be. For the first time, she believed that, quite simply, there wasn't one.