" No..No.. It can't be.. It can't be.. No.. I don't believe it.. I won't.. I.. Arghhhh"

Somewhere deep within Jinlintai Palace,

a sharp cry shattered the silence.

The desperate, broken voice echoed faintly before fading into panicked whispers that made little sense. On the cold stone floor lay a man—not calm, not whole, but a shattered figure. His trembling hands clawed at the ground, desperate for something solid to keep from slipping further into madness. The golden robe wrapped around him was dust-stained, crushed and ruined; its embroidered threads bent and twisted from violent movement.

Every breath he took was ragged and short, his chest rising and falling unevenly like it was a battle just to suck in air. Moonlight slipped quietly through a narrow window above, casting pale, cold lines over the room. The light reached him, but it stopped shy of the darkest corners that seemed to shrink away in fear.

He jerked his head, eyes wide and wild, searching the shadows with a frantic gaze as broken words spilled from his lips again and again — words losing their meaning, fading into silence.

The chamber held its breath. Walls and shadows seemed to draw back from him, shrinking as if afraid to watch whatever had taken hold. The moonlight itself seemed cautious, barely brushing the floor beyond him.

A faint scrape broke the silence — stone scraping stone — deliberate and slow, then stopping nothing had made the sound but the weight it left behind pressed deep in the air.

His eyes snapped toward the door. Breath caught.

Another sound followed — softer this time, closer.

He twisted, hand dragging across the floor, and in a cracked whisper asked, “Who’s there?”

No answer came, only the echo of his own voice — distant, strange, and haunting.

A cold breath slid across him like unseen fingers. The floor pulsed beneath his palms, faint but real— a heartbeat not his own.

The moonlight dimmed. Shadows thickened, crowding closer. The silence grew heavier than sound.

If the palace could speak, it would say this: whatever took hold that night had never truly left.

Outside the room,

One of the jin disciple told to the other one, "he has been like this for past few months"

The other one scoffed and said, "since the death of that sinister to be exact, you say.. Haha.. if he cries and screams like this for him, will the dead come back alive are what.."

Then the first one said, "even if he sacrifice himself, i don't think it will happen.. maybe he will become more lunatic and die.. hahaha"

They laughed at him and left.. But little did they know, it was all heard by him.. Everything.. And he indeed become lunatic.. But had a final and clever idea before the death of his.. Such an loyal disciple he is..

author note - it is just an trailer to it.. Read it and wait for further updates and enjoy.. Thank you..

In Gusu Cloud Recesses, sunlight filtered gently across the study hall's tatami mats. The young disciples sat in orderly rows, listening closely.

"Every gentry clan is unique," Lan Qiren says, grooming his gray goatee as he walked with patient steps, "in the color of their robes, their habits, their motto, the meaning behind their family name, the cultivation methods they practice, as well as the symbols they carry and the specialists they raise."

He paused before the class, his eyes steady.

"Let's begin with our own, the Lan clan.

Our robes are always blue and white—blue for calm and clarity, white for purity and uprightness. The cloud motif on our collars and sleeves represents our deep connection to the heavens and the flowing spirit. We keep our habits quiet and proper: no loud talking, no running, no carelessness.

Music, books, and reflection are preferred.

Our motto is 'Be upright, be honorable,' and our last name 'Lan' means orchid, which stands for humility and grace. In cultivation, we specialize in spiritual guides and musicians who use the guqin to direct spiritual energy with powerful melodies—unique to our clan."

He turned to another row.

"The Jiang clan of Yunmeng wears purple. Purple shows freedom and an open heart, but also power. Their emblem is the lotus stylized in embroidery, which symbolises the rivers signifying their steadfast yet ever-changing nature. They enjoy fishing, outdoor games, and lively, honest company.

Their motto is 'Live with principle, act with courage.' The name 'Jiang' means river, for flowing and never breaking, always moving forward. The Jiang clan is known for their swimming skills and sword cultivators who combine speed and flexibility with fluid, water-like techniques—masters of swift maneuvering unique among all the clans."

He gestured toward Jin Ling, whose golden robe gleamed under the light. The young master straightened immediately, chin lifting with unmistakable pride.

"The Jin clan of Lanling is known for gold, a symbol of wealth, pride, and beauty. Their peony flower motif stands for strength through grace and radiant power. They value respect and discipline and openly display their status.

Their motto is 'Value virtue, embrace harmony.' The name 'Jin' means gold, bright and impossible to ignore. Their cultivation focuses on swords and spiritual nets—specialists capable of weaving intricate traps to ensnare evil spirits and enemies, a skill uniquely honed in the Jin clan."

He lifted his hand to the quieter, sturdy group.

"The Nie clan from Qinghe wears dark brown or gray; brown reflects the earth and strength, gray steady endurance. Their symbol is the sabre crossed with a mountain peak, representing both toughness and unyielding spirit. Their habits are straightforward—honesty, a hearty appetite, and rigorous training.

Their motto is 'Stand firm, fight bravely.' The name 'Nie' means firm or unyielding. They are famed for their saber cultivation, emphasizing overwhelming power and fierce attacks. Their heavy weapons specialists are fearsome warriors found nowhere else."

His steps slowed as he approached Lan Sizhui. His voice, which had been even and measured, hardened just slightly—not overtly hostile, but the shift was unmistakable.

"The Wen clan of Qishan chooses red, symbolizing boldness, energy, and fierce leadership. Their emblem is the blazing flame, a mark of both destruction and renewal. Their ways are strong-willed, direct, sometimes strict.

Their motto is 'With might, comes order.' The name 'Wen' means warmth or culture—once the keepers of civilization and power. They specialize in fire and demonic arts cultivation, wielding overwhelming energy rarely matched by others."

He held his gaze near Sizhui for a moment longer before moving on, the air thick with unspoken memory.

"When you see the color, the clothes, the motto, the motifs, and the name—you can guess the clan and understand their heart. Each is different; that is what makes harmony possible."

The disciples—Jin Ling still glowing with pride, Sizhui quietly composed, Lan Jingyi alert, and Ouyang Zizhen thoughtful—nodded as the lesson settled in, each clan's traditions and distinctiveness clear in their minds.

As  Lan Qiren finished explaining the clans, Lan Jingyi couldn’t hold back any longer.

"But I have a doubt.. Senior Wei doesn't wear purple but black," Jingyi blurted out suddenly, tilting his head. "But isn't he Jiang clan? Shouldn't he wear their color too?"

Every time, mentioning wei ying's name gives him frustration out of nowhere and his whole face twists into ugliness..

Lan Qiren glanced up with frowned temple and twitching mouth, stroking his goatee. "That is his choice. The Jiang clan never restrains anyone's will."

Ouyang Zizhen's eyes lit up with innocent curiosity. "Oh! But Master Lan, the Jiang sect is famous for swordsmanship, right? Then why doesn't Senior Wei use a sword anymore? I've never seen him with one."

Jin Ling smirked, crossing his arms proudly. "Maybe he's just not good at swordsmanship. That's why he gave it up."

Ouyang blinked, looking genuinely confused. "But I heard someone say he stopped using it after he started demonic cultivation. Is that true?"

Jingyi gasped, eyes squinted with genuine confusion. "Wait, wait—so you're saying he gave up his sword for demonic cultivation? Like, he traded it? Or maybe sacrificed it?"

Jin Ling's face flushed with irritation. "Enough! You two don't know anything. How can you just talk like this without enough knowledge?"

Jingyi frowned, genuinely puzzled. "Then tell us! Why doesn't he use his sword if he's so good?"

Jin Ling's voice rose, pride and protectiveness flaring. "Are you calling him evil? He's more talented than anyone here. If you think he's evil, why do you all use his inventions, huh?"

Ouyang nodded earnestly, eyes wide. "That's right! He even created a whole new way of cultivation. That must mean he's really smart."

Jingyi leaned forward, speaking without thinking. "But is his way safe? Can it be used? I mean, doesn't everyone say it caused a lot of disasters?"

At those words, Lan Qiren's complexion suddenly turned pale, his breathing became uneven, and his hand trembled slightly as he gripped the desk—signs of rising qi deviation.

Zewu Jun, who had been standing quietly at the side, immediately noticed and stepped forward.

Just as Jin Ling opened his mouth to argue further, Zewu Jun's voice rang clear and firm.

"Enough."

The room fell silent instantly.

"As disciples of gentry clans, you must not speak carelessly about dense and sensitive matters without enough experience. Arguing, shouting, and placing blame on others are strictly forbidden in Gusu."

His tone softened slightly as a faint smile appeared. "Young Master Wei wears what he chooses. The Jiang sect does not restrain anyone's will. And Senior Wei is skilled at swordsmanship, just as your Hanguang Jun is."

Jingyi, still curious and oblivious, started again. "Then why doesn't he—"

"End of discussion," Zewu Jun interrupted sharply. "The rest can be addressed at a more appropriate time."

He turned and bowed respectfully to Lan Qiren, who gave a slow nod of permission.

Zewu Jun faced the class once more. "Since many rules were broken during today's lesson, you will all receive punishment. You may ask Hanguang Jun directly for your penalties."

He looked at Sizhui. "Sizhui, you will report today's details to him. Understood?"

Sizhui stood and bowed with a calm smile. "Yes, Zewu Jun."

"Very well. Class is dismissed."

The disciples bowed and began filing out quietly, Jingyi and Ouyang still whispering to each other with wide, curious eyes, completely unaware of how much trouble their innocent questions had caused.

As the last of the disciples filed out, Zewu Jun approached Lan Qiren quietly, hands folded respectfully.

"Nowadays, these young people don't seem to meet our rules very well, full of curiousity and wilderness" Zewu Jun said with a faint sigh.

Lan Qiren hummed in agreement, his expression still tense from the earlier discussion.

"But Sizhui is an exception," Zewu Jun added softly. "No wonder—he was brought up by Wangji."

Lan Qiren didn't respond to that. Instead, he said firmly, "If needed, increase the difficulty of their training. This is the correct age for them to be shaped."

Zewu Jun smiled gently at the suggestion, nodding.

Lan Qiren paused, then asked, "Are they going on a night hunt tonight as well?"

"Yes," Zewu Jun replied.

"With whom?" Lan Qiren started, then shook his head. "Nevermind." He looked at his nephew directly. "And you—Xichen, don't go into seclusion again for such long periods. As the sect leader, you should know how to hold yourself. I cannot keep you in check forever. You must look after yourself."

Zewu Jun's gaze lowered slightly as he bowed, a flicker of guilt and pain crossing his face.

Lan Qiren's voice softened just a bit. "Forget about the past. Mistakes happen—after all, we are only human. But don't drown in them and confuse yourself. In the future, take your decisions wisely."

Zewu Jun bowed deeper this time, his voice quiet but sincere. "As you say, Uncle."

With that, Lan Qiren turned and walked away, his robes sweeping behind him, leaving Zewu Jun standing alone in the empty hall, the weight of old memories and new responsibilities pressing gently on his shoulders.

As they walked toward the meeting place where Hanguang Jun waited, the questions from earlier still swirled in their minds. The way the adults had avoided answering only fed their curiosity deeper.

Jin Ling turned sharply toward Jingyi. "It's all because of you. Who told you to ask those questions in the first place?"

Jingyi shrugged, unbothered. "Asking questions is how you learn things. That's why classes are held. Sitting idly and passing time—anyone can do that."

Jin Ling's eyes narrowed. "What did you say?"

Jingyi smirked. "What? Are you triggered? Why? Do you also do that?"

Jin Ling, "You—"

Ouyang Zizhen stepped between them quickly. "Can you both stop fighting? We got penalties because of your debate. Don't give us more trouble."

Jingyi rolled his eyes. "Who told him to answer me when I was just asking questions? Acting like he knows everything just because he was born in the Jin sect."

Sizhui sighed. "Jingyi, enough. What you should worry about isn't who started it, but the punishment from Hanguang Jun."

Jingyi paused. "That's true… but why are you only shutting me up?"

Ouyang Zizhen gave him a tired look. "Because your mouth can't be shut on its own, can it?"

Sizhui's expression grew thoughtful. "But Jingyi, what you asked today really is a mystery. If it's not something simple like bad swordsmanship, why didn't they answer our questions?"

Jingyi nodded eagerly. "Exactly! That's what I asked, and that's why I asked."

Jin Ling crossed his arms. "Instead of debating here among ourselves, why don't we just go and ask the person directly?"

Ouyang Zizhen's eyes widened. "You mean… we ask Senior Wei?"

Jingyi grimaced. "Him? I'd rather not know than ask him."

Jin Ling raised an eyebrow. "Why? Are you scared of him?"

"Who's scared of who?" Jingyi shot back. "I just don't like him. He always sticks to Hanguang Jun like a leech, so unserious all the time, and lazy too. I bet he's still sleeping right now. I don't know why Hanguang Jun brought him back to Gusu."

Sizhui tilted his head. "But what Jin Ling said is true. If we ask him directly, we can find out more. Besides, he's friendly and easy to talk to. Asking him questions is easier than asking Zewu Jun or Master Lan."

Jingyi hesitated. "What you said… might be right."

Ouyang Zizhen grinned. "There's nothing to think about. Let's go ask him directly."

Sizhui nodded. "Yes. Let's ask him."

Just as they all agreed and turned toward the path, a cold, steady voice cut through the air, sending chills down their spines.

"Ask what to whom?"

They froze.

Hanguang Jun stood a few steps behind, his pale blue robes spotless, expression calm but sharp as a blade. His gaze swept over them, waiting.