The sun had barely climbed over the rooftops of Wu Tan City, yet the training ground of the Xiao Clan was already buzzing with murmurs. Nothing spread faster than gossip—especially the fall of a once-glorious genius.
Xiao Yan, once the pride of the clan, now sat on the platform with a wooden expression, enduring another disappointing test from Instructor Gu. The crystal testing stone flickered faintly, dimmer than even the weakest child in the clan.
"Dou Zhi Qi… third stage," Instructor Gu announced.
Silence.
Then the whispers came.
"A waste…"
"What happened to him?"
"Three years and not a single improvement…"
And not far away—leaning casually against one of the stone pillars—stood a young man with quiet blue eyes, arms folded across his chest.
Xiao Shui.
He had joined the clan only six months ago, a branch descendant brought from a distant territory. Most ignored him because he rarely spoke, and when he did, his voice was calm to the point of coldness. But the elders had taken note of him quickly.
A natural affinity for water—rare in the Xiao Clan.
A balanced temperament that never swayed under provocation.
A Dou Zhi Qi, sixth stage, reached silently and without fuss.
Shui wasn't a prodigy like the former Xiao Yan. But he was stable, consistent—and, unlike almost everyone else, he never mocked Xiao Yan.
He simply watched.
And he noticed everything.
Even now, only Shui saw the moment Xiao Yan's fist clenched imperceptibly. Only Shui saw the flicker of humiliation burning deep in that dark gaze.
He's not finished, Shui thought.
He didn't know why he thought so—only that something about Xiao Yan felt like a spring compressed to its limit. It would break, or it would explode.
But for now, the boy could barely lift his head.
Instructor Gu dismissed the group, and the crowd dispersed with whispers sharp enough to cut skin.
As Xiao Yan descended the platform with stiff shoulders, he suddenly stumbled—the result of spending the previous night cultivating desperately, endlessly, hopelessly.
He would have hit the ground.
But a hand caught his arm.
Cool. Firm. Steady.
Xiao Yan looked up in surprise.
"…Xiao Shui?"
Shui's blue eyes were calm. "Your balance is off. You haven't slept."
Xiao Yan forced a laugh. "And you can tell that from a stumble?"
Shui didn't blink. "You're pale. Your steps are uneven. And you look like you're about to fall again."
"…you really don't hold back, do you?"
"No."
Silence stretched between them—uncomfortable for Xiao Yan, perfectly natural for Shui.
Shui let go of his arm. "Everyone saw the test today. They will talk."
"You don't need to remind me."
"I'm not reminding you."
His expression softened.
"I'm saying you don't have to listen."
Xiao Yan froze for a heartbeat.
"You're one of the only people who still talks to me normally," he muttered.
"That's because I don't care about the past," Shui replied. "Only what you do next."
Xiao Yan turned away, unable to hide the faint tremble of his jaw. "Then I'm afraid you'll be disappointed."
"No," Shui said simply. "I won't."
Later That Afternoon – The Training Field
Xiao Yan didn't return to his room. Instead, he trained until his arms shook—punching the wooden stake again and again.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang!
With every strike, memories flashed:
The clan cheering for him.
His father's proud smile.
His fall—three years of humiliation.
Why?
Why did his Dou Qi vanish?
Why did fate strip him of everything?
His knuckles split. Blood smeared the wooden post.
"You'll break your hands."
Xiao Yan stopped mid-strike, chest heaving. "Don't sneak up on people…"
Shui walked over, holding a small container of medicinal salve. "Your technique is sloppy."
"Thanks for the encouragement."
"You're punching with anger, not foundation."
"Well, I'm allowed to be angry."
"You are."
Shui opened the container.
"But you're not allowed to destroy your body doing it."
Before Xiao Yan could protest, Shui took his hand and began applying the salve. His touch was precise, practiced.
"You're too calm for someone our age," Xiao Yan muttered.
"I don't see the point in wasting energy on emotions that don't help cultivation."
"…and they call me abnormal."
Shui's lips twitched—not quite a smile, but close.
"They call me strange. You get used to it."
"You really are strange."
"So are you."
Their eyes met.
And something shifted—an unspoken understanding forming between two boys standing in the shadow of expectations.
But then—
"YAN ER!"
Xiao Zhan's voice thundered from across the courtyard.
Xiao Yan stiffened. Shui stepped back and nodded silently before leaving.
Xiao Zhan approached, heavy worry etched into every line of his face.
"Father…" Xiao Yan murmured.
"Why did you fight so hard again? Your hands—"
"It doesn't matter," Xiao Yan cut in, voice brittle. "The clan thinks I'm a failure. Let them."
Xiao Zhan exhaled, sorrowful. "I wish I could bear this burden for you."
"…I can handle it."
But Xiao Zhan wasn't looking at him anymore.
His gaze drifted toward the direction Xiao Shui had left.
"That boy… Xiao Shui," he murmured. "He treats you differently."
"He's strange," Xiao Yan admitted. "…but he's honest."
"It's rare to find true sincerity in such times," Xiao Zhan said. "Treasure it."
Nightfall – Xiao Yan's Courtyard
Xiao Yan sat cross-legged, struggling to circulate Dou Qi.
Again—failure.
Again—emptiness.
Again—rage.
He slammed his fist into the ground.
"Damn it… DAMN IT!"
A soft knock sounded at the door.
Xiao Yan tensed. "Who is it?"
"…Shui."
Xiao Yan blinked. What now?
He opened the door.
Shui stood there silently holding a small wooden box.
Inside—herbal incense and two bottles of low-grade Qi-nourishing liquid.
"What's this?"
"You're overexerting your pathways," Shui said. "These help stabilize them."
"You bought this? With your own money?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Shui paused for the longest moment yet—long enough that Xiao Yan wondered if he'd refuse to answer.
Then:
"…Because I don't like seeing someone fight alone."
Xiao Yan swallowed, taken aback.
"You know," he said quietly, "if you keep helping me, the clan will start excluding you too."
"They already do," Shui said simply.
"I don't mind."
Xiao Yan stared.
Shui turned to leave—
but Xiao Yan reached out and grabbed his sleeve.
"…Thank you."
Shui nodded once, and left.
The incense burned through the night.
The Qi liquid warmed Xiao Yan's blood.
And for the first time in months—his breathing finally steadied.
For the first time—
he slept without dreams of failure.
Elsewhere in the Clan – A Hidden Conversation
Elder Xiao Ning walked into a dimly lit corridor, where two other elders whispered in concern.
"Have you noticed that outsider boy? Xiao Shui."
"The quiet one?"
"Yes. He's… becoming close to Xiao Yan."
"Is that bad?"
"Not necessarily. But his Dou Qi is unusual. Calm… too calm. The way he conceals his presence—it's unnatural for a boy his age."
"Do you suspect something?"
"…I don't know yet. But I want him watched."
Unseen by all, a ripple of cold air drifted down the hall.
A faint voice whispered within it—calm, detached.
"I don't like being watched."
But by the time the elders turned, Xiao Shui was gone.
Back in Xiao Yan's Courtyard
The moon hung high.
Xiao Yan stirred in his sleep—breathing steadier than any night before.
Outside, leaning against the wall with arms crossed, Xiao Shui kept silent guard.
He didn't know why he was doing this.
He only knew one thing—
Tomorrow, the clan would mock Xiao Yan again.
Tomorrow, they would sneer and whisper.
Tomorrow, they would laugh.
But Xiao Yan wouldn't face tomorrow alone.
Not anymore.
Shui closed his eyes.
I don't know why…
but I want to see what you become.
A breeze passed, carrying the faint scent of cold water and icy mist.
In the quiet darkness, two sparks of fate quietly intertwined.
And the story of a fallen genius—and the strange boy who stood beside him—
began to truly unfold.