Morning arrived with a brittle clarity, winter sunlight spilling over Beijing's skyline. Fang Ze walked toward Beijing No. 3 High School with an unhurried stride, hands in his pockets, gaze calm yet distant. His breathing remained steady, the Spiritual Listening Gathering Technique circulating quietly within him. Since stepping into the seventh layer, his Qi no longer surged recklessly—it obeyed, flowing like a trained blade returning to its sheath.
At the school gate, murmurs drifted.
"Did you hear? Someone collapsed near Third Ring Road last night."
"They say it involved cultivators…"
Fang Ze passed through without slowing.
Inside Class One, Liu Wenhao leaned over his desk, lowering his voice. "Something's happening in the city. My uncle works near Chaoyang—said strange people have been showing up lately."
Zhang Rui adjusted his glasses, expression thoughtful. "It's not random. Patterns are forming."
Their eyes flicked instinctively toward Fang Ze.
He Yun, seated by the window, observed Fang Ze's calm profile. She had seen enough to know—whatever currents were moving beneath Beijing, Fang Ze was already standing at the center of them.
Before anyone could speak further, the classroom door slid open.
A teacher stepped in, followed by a tall youth in a fitted coat, posture straight, eyes sharp and cold. His presence instantly drew attention—not loud, not aggressive, but heavy.
"This is a transfer student," the teacher announced. "Introduce yourself."
The youth's gaze swept the room, pausing for half a breath on Fang Ze.
"Zhuo Tianming," he said flatly. "From Jiangnan."
The name landed like a stone dropped into still water.
Liu Wenhao stiffened slightly. Zhang Rui's fingers tightened on his pen.
Fang Ze's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.
So you've arrived already.
Zhuo Tianming took a seat two rows behind Fang Ze. From that moment on, the atmosphere in Class One subtly shifted. To ordinary students, it felt like nothing more than tension. To those with sensitivity, it was the quiet collision of two stabilized auras.
During lunch break, Fang Ze stood on the rooftop, overlooking the city. Zhuo Tianming approached without sound.
"You're Fang Ze," Zhuo Tianming said, tone neutral.
"Yes."
"I sensed controlled Qi circulation on you," Zhuo Tianming continued. "Rare, in a place like this."
Fang Ze turned slightly, eyes calm. "And I sensed instability in you. Your foundation isn't fully settled."
A flicker crossed Zhuo Tianming's eyes.
"You speak boldly."
"I speak honestly."
For a moment, silence stretched between them, the wind brushing past like an unseen witness.
"I'm not your enemy," Zhuo Tianming said finally. "Not yet. But you should be careful. Beijing isn't as shallow as it looks."
Fang Ze nodded faintly. "I know."
Zhuo Tianming left without another word.
That evening, miles away, inside a secured underground facility, a projection flickered to life.
A list appeared.
Emerging Anomalies — Northern Region
Zhuo Tianming (Unstable Talent, Observation Required)
Yan Heitu (Local Power, Aggressive Tendencies)
Fang Ze — Status: Unclassified
An official from the Huaxia Special Bearue authority exhaled slowly.
"Unclassified," he repeated. "That's never good."
Back at home, Fang Ze guided Fang Xiaoyu through breathing exercises, correcting her posture gently. Fang Yuhan watched silently, eyes thoughtful.
"You're changing," she said quietly.
Fang Ze smiled faintly. "The world is."
Later that night, Fang Ze cultivated beneath the city's glow, Qi threading through concrete and steel. His mind replayed Zhuo Tianming's aura, Yan Heitu's malice, and the frightened cultivators roaming Beijing's shadows.
The board was being set.
And the pieces had begun to move.