The rain had stopped by the time Fang Ze and Fang Xiaoyu reached home, but the city did not return to calm.
Fang Ze knew that much.
Some disturbances vanished like ripples in a pond. Others left behind sediment—unseen, but heavy.
Inside the apartment, warm light spilled from the kitchen. Fang Ze's mother was plating dinner, while Fang Yuhan stood beside her, sleeves rolled up, methodically chopping vegetables. The faint scent of ginger and soy filled the air, grounding and familiar.
"You're late," Fang Yuhan said without looking up, her tone gentle but sharp with observation. "Xiaoyu doesn't usually come back this quiet."
Fang Xiaoyu hesitated, then glanced instinctively at Fang Ze.
"It's nothing," Fang Ze said calmly, setting his bag down. "Just some noise on the way home."
Their mother paused. Just for a breath. Her eyes moved from one child to the other before returning to the stove. The ladle tightened in her grip—then loosened.
Dinner continued.
That normalcy unsettled Fang Ze more than the confrontation itself.
Because the world outside was no longer normal.
—
Later that night, Fang Ze stood alone on the balcony. The rain had washed the sky clean, leaving the city lights sharp and distant, stretching endlessly like a field of fallen stars.
He circulated the Spiritual Listening Gathering Technique slowly, deliberately, refining the Qi absorbed earlier. His breathing was steady, his posture loose—but his awareness was fully extended, threaded through streets, buildings, and human intent.
The incident with Fang Xiaoyu had confirmed what he had already begun to suspect.
Beijing was producing loose teeth—people brushing against power without understanding its weight. No lineage. No discipline. No restraint.
Today it was delinquents.
Tomorrow, something far uglier.
The balcony door slid open softly behind him.
Fang Yuhan stepped out, wrapping a light jacket around her shoulders. She leaned against the railing, eyes on the city rather than her brother.
"She didn't say anything," Fang Yuhan said quietly. "But I could tell she was scared."
Fang Ze opened his eyes. "You felt it too?"
She nodded. "Something's changing. I don't know what, but… the air feels different."
That was Fang Yuhan's strength.
She didn't sense Qi like Su Qingxue. She didn't move on instinct like Fang Xiaoyu. But her mind was stable—clear enough to notice shifts before panic set in.
"Keep practicing," Fang Ze said. "Slowly. Don't chase results."
She smiled faintly. "You always say that."
—
Across the city, the ripples spread.
At a late-night barbecue stall near the Third Ring Road, a stocky man with scarred knuckles slammed an empty bottle onto the table.
"I'm telling you," he said, voice low but excited, "some kid dropped three guys without even touching them properly."
His companions laughed it off—but they leaned closer all the same.
In a cramped apartment above a massage parlor, a young woman closed her laptop slowly. On the paused screen, a shaky clip showed a rain-drenched streetlamp—and beneath it, a tall silhouette that bent the air around it.
"So it's starting," she murmured.
—
By morning, the school felt different.
Not louder. Not more chaotic.
Quieter.
At Beijing No. 3 High School, rumors circulated in fragments. No one spoke of cultivation. No one used forbidden words.
They spoke of presence.
"He doesn't rush."
"When he walks past, it's like the hallway gets quieter."
"Did you notice Yan Heitu avoided him today?"
Zhang Rui watched Fang Ze from his seat, eyes thoughtful. Liu Wenhao stared straight ahead, fists clenched beneath the desk. He Yun said nothing, but an unfamiliar tightness settled in her chest.
And Su Qingxue—
She met Fang Ze's eyes briefly across the classroom.
Nothing more.
No words.
Yet in that instant, both understood.
What happened last night was not over.
It was the city testing where the boundaries lay.
And Fang Ze, calm and unyielding, had already decided which lines would never be allowed to move.