The late afternoon sun slanted through the library's western windows, painting the ancient shelves in amber and shadow.
Shen Fei sat at his usual oak desk, a tower of books rising beside him like a monument to intellectual conquest.
His eyes moved across the page of a treatise on advanced inscription pattern layering—Overlapping Defensive Arrays: Principles of Harmonic Stacking—at a pace that would have seemed absurd to any observer.
But there was no observer.
The library's inner area remained his private domain, a sanctuary of dust and knowledge where he could push his talent to its limits without raising uncomfortable questions.
His mind absorbed the text in great, hungry gulps.
Concepts that would take master scholars weeks to unpack—resonance frequencies, energy bleed rates, stabilizing anchor points—integrated themselves into his existing framework of understanding with mechanical precision.
The God Rewards Hard Work talent hummed in the background, a constant companion, sharpening his comprehension with every page turned.
'The seventh stabilizing anchor should be positioned at the vertex where three harmonic frequencies intersect. But if I offset the anchor by 12 degrees, the array's energy consumption decreases while its defensive output increases by approximately 15%.'
He made a mental note, filed it away with a thousand other observations. The book closed with a soft thud. He reached for another.
"Master Shen Fei."
The voice cut through his concentration like a blade through silk.
Shen Fei's head snapped up, his golden-ranked soul force flaring briefly before he recognized the speaker—a middle-aged staff member in the gray-brown robes of the academy's administrative corps.
The man stood at a respectful distance, his posture deferential, but his eyes held a nervous flicker.
The withdrawal from his deep learning state was almost painful. His mind, which had been racing through corridors of arcane theory, screeched to a halt.
The sensation left him irritable, like being yanked from a warm bath into cold air.
"What's the matter?" His tone came out sharper than intended, the displeasure evident.
The staff member flinched. Sweat beaded on his upper lip. "Young Master Shen Fei, the Vice Principal has summoned you to his office. He said it's urgent."
Shen Fei studied the man for a long moment, then exhaled slowly. His irritation was a luxury he could afford to discard.
He was, after all, in a unique position—simultaneously the academy's most valuable asset and its most dangerous student.
Storming around like a petulant child over an interrupted reading session would accomplish nothing.
"I will go. You can leave."
The staff member bowed deeply and retreated with obvious relief, his footsteps echoing down the spiral staircase.
Shen Fei rose, gathering the books on the desk into a neat stack. His movements were precise, as he returned each volume to its designated shelf.
When the desk was clear, he straightened his robes and headed for the exit.
The administrative courtyard lay on the opposite side of the Institute grounds, a cluster of stone buildings surrounded by carefully manicured gardens.
Late afternoon students milled about—some heading to evening training sessions, others clustering around practice fields where the clash of soul force rippled through the air.
Several recognized him as he passed. Whispers followed in his wake.
"That's Shen Fei…"
"The alchemist genius?"
"They say he's already peak Gold rank…"
"I heard he custom-designed cultivation techniques for half the student body… I wonder when will it be my turn"
He ignored them all, his face a mask of polite indifference.
Fame was useful, but it was also tedious. The constant attention made moving through the world feel like wading through treacle.
The Vice Principal's office occupied the second floor of the main administrative building.
Shen Fei climbed the stone steps, noting the reinforced door and the subtle inscription patterns etched into the walls—security measures that would have been invisible to most eyes but glaringly obvious to his enhanced perception.
He knocked twice.
"Enter."
Ye Sheng's voice carried through the heavy wood, authoritative and controlled. Shen Fei pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The office was exactly what he'd expected: functional, impressive, and thoroughly political.
Ornate shelves lined the walls, displaying a curated selection of rare scrolls and cultivation materials.
A large desk of polished ebony dominated the center of the room, its surface immaculate except for a single jade slip and a stack of documents pushed to one side.
Ye Sheng stood behind the desk, not sitting. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes—sharp, calculating, the eyes of a man who had survived decades of Glory City politics—studied Shen Fei with open assessment.
He was a tall man, broad-shouldered, with the Snow Wind family's characteristic pale-blue tinge to his dark hair and the same proud bearing that marked all members of the ruling house.
"Shen Fei." A thin smile crossed his face. "The City Lord wishes to meet with you. We should depart immediately—he does not like to be kept waiting."
Shen Fei inclined his head. "Of course, Vice Principal. Lead the way."
They exited the office together, descending the stairs and crossing the courtyard side by side.
Students parted before them like water around stones.
Ye Sheng set a brisk pace, his long legs eating up the ground. His black-gold ranked cultivation remained suppressed, but the pressure of his presence was unmistakable—a subtle weight in the air that made lesser cultivators instinctively step aside.
Shen Fei matched his stride without effort. His mind, still recovering from the interrupted reading session, began to work through the possibilities.
'Why would Ye Zong summon him?'
'The pills,' he thought.
Probably the pills. Or the cultivation techniques. Or both.
He wasn't concerned. His contributions to the city were too valuable, his position too secure.
Even if the Snow Wind family had reservations about his past reputation—which they certainly did—they couldn't afford to move against the golden goose that was currently transforming Glory City's military and economic prospects.
They exited the Institute's main gate, where a carriage waited.
It was a sleek vehicle of dark wood and silver fittings, clearly belonging to the Snow Wind family.
Two guards flanked it—both at the peak of Silver rank, their soul force sharp and vigilant.
"After you," Ye Sheng said, gesturing toward the carriage door.
Shen Fei climbed in, settling into the cushioned interior.
The interior was surprisingly comfortable, with silk-covered seats and small windows that provided ventilation while maintaining privacy. Ye Sheng followed, taking the seat across from him.
The carriage lurched into motion.
Outside, the sounds of the city filtered through—vendors calling out their wares, children laughing, the distant clash of training weapons from a public practice yard.
Shen Fei let the silence stretch for a moment, then spoke. "Vice Principal, do you know why the City Lord summoned me? After all, I have considerable work remaining at the Institute. The library holds many books I've yet to read, and numerous students are still waiting for their custom-made techniques."
Ye Sheng chuckled, a dry, rasping sound.
"You kid."
He shook his head, his expression somewhere between exasperation and genuine amusement.
"Most young men your age would be celebrating their achievements, not complaining about interrupted reading time."
"I find reading to be a more productive use of my hours than celebration."
"I've noticed." Ye Sheng's smile faded into something more serious.
"Though I don't know the exact nature of Lord Ye Zong's invitation, I can assure you it is not a reprimand. If I had to guess, he wishes to discuss your recent contributions—and perhaps offer some form of recognition."
"Recognition?" Shen Fei raised an eyebrow. "The profits from the pill recipes and cultivation techniques are recognition enough. I'm not short on wealth."
"There are forms of recognition beyond coin," Ye Sheng said cryptically. "The Snow Wind family has many resources. Many opportunities that money cannot buy."
The implication hung in the air.
The Snow Wind family's treasury was legendary—filled not just with demon spirits and cultivation materials but also with ancient artifacts and techniques accumulated over generations.
If Ye Zong was willing to open that vault, even partially, the rewards could be substantial.
But there's always a price, Shen Fei thought. Nothing from the Snow Wind family comes free.
The carriage ride consumed the better part of an hour.
Glory City sprawled around them—a patchwork of noble estates, merchant districts, and commoner quarters, all encircled by the great walls that kept the demon beasts at bay.
The Snow Wind family estate occupied the city's central section, a sprawling compound that dominated the landscape like a small fortress.
They disembarked at the main gate.
Two guards stood watch—both Silver-ranked, their soul force humming with disciplined readiness.
But Shen Fei's divine sense swept deeper, detecting what ordinary perception would miss: a squad hidden in the shadows, four Silver-ranked and one Gold-ranked, positioned to respond to any threat within seconds.
'Impressive security, but even a Gold-ranked squad would be useless against a Black Gold-ranked assassin.'
He followed Ye Sheng through the estate's winding paths, past ornate pavilions and carefully maintained gardens.
The Snow Wind family's wealth was evident in every detail—rare flowering vines cultivated for both beauty and spiritual properties, stonework that incorporated subtle inscription patterns, architecture that balanced aesthetic grace with defensive functionality.
'The strongest family in Glory City,' Shen Fei mused. And they've earned that title through centuries of careful management.
Ye Zong's office occupied a private courtyard near the estate's center.
The building was modest by Snow Wind standards—a single-story structure with sliding doors and a simple garden entryway—but the guards stationed outside were anything but modest.
Two Gold-ranked demon spiritualists flanked the entrance, their postures relaxed but their attention razor-sharp.
Ye Sheng knocked twice.
"Enter." The voice that answered was deep and resonant, carrying the weight of authority.
A guard slid the door open. The interior was austere, almost monastic—bare wooden floors, a low table, minimal decoration.
But the simplicity was a statement in itself. A man in Ye Zong's position didn't need to display his power through material wealth.
Behind the desk sat the City Lord himself. Ye Zong was a man in his late forties, with the Snow Wind family's characteristic pale-blue hair now streaked with silver.
His features were sharp, aristocratic, but his eyes held a warmth that felt genuine rather than practiced. He wore simple robes of dark blue, marked only with the Snow Wind crest over his heart.
Beside him, in a chair that had clearly been brought in for the occasion, sat an older man with a waterfall of white beard.
Gu Yan, President of the Alchemist Association, looked like a scholar who had wandered in from a dusty library—which was exactly what he was. His eyes twinkled with intelligence as Shen Fei stepped inside.
"City Lord, President Gu Yan," Ye Sheng greeted, bowing with cupped fist.
Shen Fei matched the gesture. "Uncle Ye Zong, President Gu Yan."
The casual address to Ye Zong raised eyebrows—not from the City Lord himself, but from the guards still visible in the doorway. "Uncle" implied a familiarity that most wouldn't dare assume.
But Shen Fei had calculated the risk before speaking. The term was both respectful and presumptuous, signaling that he saw himself as something more than a mere supplicant.
Ye Zong's smile didn't waver. "No need to be polite. Sit down, nephew Shen Fei."
Shen Fei took the seat across from the desk while Ye Sheng politely exited the room, closing the door behind him. The silence that followed was comfortable, almost familial.
"Nephew must be wondering why I have invited you here," Ye Zong began.
Shen Fei nodded. "The thought had crossed my mind."
Ye Zong shook his head, a self-deprecating laugh escaping him. He pointed to Gu Yan. "President Gu believes we aren't rewarding our city's greatest genius sufficiently. He's also demanded additional protection for you."
Gu Yan snorted, his white beard twitching. "We believe the boy is too modest for his own good."
"Thank you, City Lord and President Gu, for your consideration," Shen Fei said smoothly.
"But I believe the rewards and security I currently possess are more than adequate. I've charged fair prices for the cultivation techniques, and I receive my share of profits from the pill recipes. Additional rewards seem unnecessary. As for security—"
He paused and gestured vaguely toward the door, toward Ye Sheng's departed figure.
"Vice Principal Ye Sheng is a Black Gold-ranked demon spiritualist in charge of the entire Institute. I can't imagine needing more protection than that."
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