Two guards in full blue leather armor walked calmly along the packed path, striking wooden clappers in a steady rhythm.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The sharp sound rolled through Valen Village.
It reached a wooden house with a steep, slanted roof, raised on stone foundations just above the peninsula's damp ground. The building combined living quarters with a small work area, typical for families who made their living from the lake.
Its walls were built the old way: thick horizontal logs fitted tightly together, sealed with moss to keep out the cutting wind off the water and the ever-present moisture. In a few places the moss had darkened, soaked through by rain, proof of how many years the lake's climate had worn at it. On the shore-facing side, a low stone wall reinforced the structure, and narrow windows were covered by wooden shutters to shield the inside from rain and night chill.
A sleeping figure slowly opened his eyes, then sat up as the clappers sounded outside.
Dawn's almost here… Roland Weiss thought, rubbing his eyes as he felt the dryness in his lids.
He'd spent most of last night lying awake, turning plans over and over in his mind, how to exploit his situation as efficiently as possible.
He'd slept a little over two hours at best.
His body hadn't begun cultivation yet, which meant his vitality and stamina were nothing like a cultivator's. Exhaustion still clung to both body and mind, demanding more sleep, more rest.
But over three hundred years, Roland Weiss had forged a deep, almost steel-like will. Fatigue from simple lack of sleep was something he could crush.
He tossed aside a thin silk blanket, rose from the bed, and opened the window.
Cold, damp air rushed in from the lake, carrying the clean scent of water and rain. Roland drew it deep into his lungs.
The mix of wet earth, old wood, and wild flowers growing along the shoreline cleared his head almost instantly, the last scraps of drowsiness loosening their grip.
Outside, the sun was only beginning to lift above the lake's edge, painting the water and sky in deep orange and gold.
Around his house stood a dozen more buildings, all raised on stone foundations along the peninsula. Most were made from thick logs sealed with moss, but some used lighter bamboo-and-wood frames better suited for the damp lake air. Nearly every home had at least two levels, an upper floor for living, dry and sheltered from the wind, and a lower level used for storage: nets, tools, supplies for work on the water. It was the peninsula's signature style.
"Young Master Roland Weiss, you're awake," a gentle woman's voice called from downstairs.
Before Roland could respond, the person added briskly, "I'll come up and wait while you wash, then help you get dressed."
Roland stepped out of his room and looked down to the lower floor, where he spotted his personal maid, Elise Fuchs.
Her beauty was only slightly above average, but she had an instinct for presentation that made people glance twice when she passed. Elise wore a green robe with long sleeves, modest in cut, carefully fitted, and elegant embroidered shoes that hinted at a meticulous attention to detail. Her long black hair was pinned into a simple bun, and her whole presence carried a calm, youthful vitality.
She looked up at Roland with bright, pleased eyes, carrying a basin of water in her delicate hands.
The water was neither too warm nor too cold, exactly right for washing.
Roland approached and rinsed his face. Elise hurried to his side and offered him a hazel twig and a powder made from animal bone.
Without looking at her, Roland took them and began brushing his teeth slowly.
Elise stood beside him with a smile, eyes lively as a morning after a long winter.
When Roland finished, Elise helped him dress.
From time to time, her soft chest brushed his elbow or his back, "accidentally," always just often enough to be noticed.
Roland's expression didn't change. No reaction to her presence, no response to her closeness. His heart remained calm, like still water.
This maid is nothing but my aunt and uncle's eyes.
And she's vain and hollow to the core.
Memories surfaced, of how, in his previous life, Elise had charmed him, flattering and clinging in every way she could.
Then, after the Awakening Ceremony, when his status collapsed, she had turned away without hesitation or compassion, looking at him with nothing but contempt.
When Paul Weiss stepped out of his room, rubbing his eyes, he saw Elise smoothing the folds of Roland's clothes with practiced care.
A flash of jealousy lit in Paul's gaze.
Living beside Roland all these years, Paul had envied his brother's treatment more times than he could count.
Thanks to Roland, Paul had a servant too, but not a young, pretty girl like Elise. His servant was a fat old woman.
I wonder if one day Elise will wait on me like that… that must feel incredible, Paul thought as he watched her fuss over Roland, but he didn't dare say it aloud.
Everyone in the village knew their aunt and uncle doted on Roland Weiss.
At first, Paul hadn't even been given a servant. It was Roland who had taken initiative and asked for one on his younger brother's behalf.
Even with the gulf between master and servant, Paul didn't dare treat Elise lightly. Her mother, Marta Fuchs, stood at their aunt and uncle's side.
Marta managed the entire household and held their complete trust. Her authority in that home wasn't small.
"Enough. There's no need to smooth my clothes," Roland said impatiently, brushing Elise's small hands aside.
Anyone with eyes could tell his clothes had been neat for a while now. Elise was simply trying to seduce him with her body.
She understood Roland's "bright future", and how high his odds were of awakening A-rank. If she could become Roland Weiss's concubine, she could rise from maid to mistress overnight.
In his previous life, Roland had been fooled, and he'd even grown fond of her.
But now, reborn, his mind was clear and his heart colder than ice.
"You can leave," Roland said without even looking at Elise as he adjusted his sleeves.
Elise pouted slightly, irritated. Something about her young master felt strange today, different, and annoying.
"Yes, Young Master."
She opened her mouth a few times, wanting to respond with something sweet and teasing, but the chill in his voice, and the icy stillness of his posture, forced her to swallow it. She nodded and withdrew.
Roland turned to his younger brother. "Are you ready?"
Paul stood by the doorway. At his brother's words, he instinctively lowered his head, staring at his toes.
"Yes," he mumbled, not daring to meet Roland's eyes.
Paul had been so nervous all night that he hadn't slept for hours. He'd sat in his room, trying to calm himself before the Awakening Ceremony.
Hearing the faint reply, Roland nodded.
In his previous life, he hadn't understood what went on in Paul's head. Now it was different.
It doesn't matter either way, Roland thought, glancing at Paul and knowing exactly what storms were twisting inside him.
"Let's go," Roland said, already moving toward the exit.
Paul hurried after him.
Outside, they followed the damp path between the peninsula's wooden buildings, sections of it turning into narrow boardwalks raised above ground saturated with water. The air smelled of the lake, wet timber, and freshly lit hearths.
The deeper they went, the more people filled the road. Boys and girls their age stepped out of houses, dressed a little more carefully than usual. Some spoke in hushed voices; others walked in silence, faces tight with anticipation.
From the distance came the splash of oars and the creak of ropes. Along the shore, fishermen were tidying their boats, as if even daily routines had to yield to the ceremony ahead.
"Look, guys. It's the Weiss brothers," Roland heard someone whisper nearby.
"The one in front is Roland Weiss, the Roland Weiss who could write poems and stories when he was four," another boy said softly, watching them pass.
"So that's him," a third replied, his tone sour with envy. "Just like the rumors, his face doesn't show anything. Like he doesn't respect anyone."
"Hmph. If you were like him, you'd act like that too," the first boy snapped coldly.
Paul listened without changing his expression, head lowered, walking quietly behind Roland. He'd heard this kind of talk for years. He'd long since learned how to swallow it.
At that moment, the newborn sunlight crested the horizon, casting a pale glow across Paul's face.
Even as the sun rose, Paul felt as if he were walking deeper into darkness.
And that darkness came from no one but his older brother.
The thought kept circling in his mind: that in this life, he might never escape the immense shadow binding him.
When the thought surged again, a sudden pressure seized his chest, making it hard to breathe.
That damn feeling again… Paul thought, half-choking as he walked behind Roland.
"Hmph. As they say, those with outstanding talent naturally invite jealousy," Roland muttered under his breath, amusement edged with contempt as he listened to the boys' exchange.
No wonder that when Roland Weiss's talent had been announced as C-rank in his previous life, enemies had swarmed him overnight, and he'd suffered for years beneath harsh words and contemptuous stares.
Behind him, Paul's breathing grew heavier as he tried not to listen to what people said about his brother.
Roland glanced sideways at Paul and understood, down to the smallest detail, what his brother was feeling in that moment.
It was a sharp, penetrating insight, something he'd earned across three hundred years of living.
And suddenly, he thought of his aunt and uncle.
Scheming scum.
They had given him Elise Fuchs to "serve" him, while deliberately assigning Paul a fat old woman. And that was only one trick among many meant to drive a wedge between the twins.
Everything their aunt and uncle did had one purpose: to plant misery and hatred in Paul's heart, and split the brothers apart.
People rarely suffer because they have too little.
More often, they suffer because others, in their eyes, have unfairly been given more.
Roland remembered how, in his previous life, he'd lacked the experience to see it, and Paul had been too foolish and naïve to resist. Their aunt and uncle had succeeded.
Now, after being reborn through the Butterfly of Beginning and End, it felt like the situation had already progressed too far to change easily.
But with the right methods, and Roland Weiss's wisdom, it could still be altered.
I could suppress my little brother completely.
I could take Shen Cui as a concubine.
I could deal with my aunt and uncle… and the clan elders…
I have dozens of ways to handle this and reshape everything.
Roland kept walking, eyes forward, deliberately looking away from Paul.
"But I don't feel like it," he said quietly, almost lazily, as he exhaled.
So what if he's my younger brother? Without blood ties, he'd be nothing but an outsider to me.
So what if Elise Fuchs is pretty? Without love and loyalty, she's just meat.
Keeping someone like that as a concubine? Hmph. She isn't worthy.
And my aunt and uncle? The elders? They're just passing guests.
Why waste strength and energy crushing people like that?
Roland gave a soft, amused chuckle.
"Heh… if you don't get in my way, then go ahead, vanish. I don't need to bother with you," he murmured as the crowd around them thickened.
"But if you step into my path…"
His eyes cooled.
"…then the consequences are unavoidable."