The morning light filtered through the high-rise windows of the Fang residence, catching the edge of the mahogany table where breakfast was laid. Fang Ze sat at the head, calm as always, eyes glancing occasionally at his younger sister, Fang Xiaoyu, who struggled to balance her chopsticks, and Fang Yuhan, older and more composed, reading a morning report on her tablet.
"Ze, are you going back to school early today?" their mother, Fang linying, asked, a hint of concern in her voice.
"I'll be there on time," Fang Ze replied evenly, his gaze already scanning the street beyond the window. "Nothing urgent here."
His father, Fang Yubo, chuckled lightly. "You always make it sound so simple."
The quiet conversation was interrupted by a soft knock at the door. Su Qingxue entered, her posture immaculate as ever, carrying a neatly wrapped breakfast from her own home. Her eyes met Fang Ze's, and a small, almost imperceptible smile passed between them.
"Good morning," she said. "Thought I'd bring this over… just in case you forgot."
"Thanks," Fang Ze replied, taking the plate. He observed her closely—her calm, measured steps, the subtle warmth she reserved for close friends. Even without knowing it fully, her cultivation potential radiated quietly, a restrained power like snow melting slowly over stone.
At school, Beijing No. 3 High was alive with murmurs. Teachers noticed unusual patterns—the principal, a tall woman with sharp eyes and pretty face named Chen Linyun, lingered in the hallways more than usual. Students whispered about inexplicable power surges in the courtyard, though no one could pinpoint their origin. Only Fang Ze moved with ease, his presence unshaken, hands in pockets, his aura calm yet commanding.
During his classes, subtle disturbances flickered: lights dimmed briefly, papers rustled in midair, a few students felt goosebumps. Fang Ze traced them, a faint energy ripple flowing from his spiritual listening gathering technique, stabilizing the anomalies before they could escalate. Some unnoticed, others barely recorded by the sharpest observers.
After school, the city itself seemed to pulse subtly. In narrow Beijing alleys, minor urban cultivators observed the streets with careful eyes. A merchant near Wangfujing muttered about children who disappeared for minutes in the fog, only to return unharmed. Traffic signals glitched sporadically in Chaoyang, yet no one understood why.
Back at the Fang residence, Fang Ze guided his sisters through breathing exercises, his hands hovering lightly over their forms, helping their Qi circulate. Fang Yuhan absorbed each movement with focus, while Fang Xiaoyu's laughter occasionally cut the tension.
Su Qingxue arrived shortly after, quietly assisting the younger sister with a step she had struggled to master. Fang Ze observed all of them, noting their progress, their potential, and the subtle ways their inner Qi responded.
By evening, the city's undercurrents grew stronger. Shadows shifted in narrow alleys, minor factions whispered names in the wind, and the faint, almost imperceptible hum of unawakened yet latent prodigies vibrated through the streets. Fang Ze paused on the balcony, scanning Beijing, calm and unyielding, aware that these currents of hidden power would soon collide.
The Golden Era was rising quietly, but in Beijing, it already found one student ready to guide the ripples before chaos could settle.