Beyond Fang Ze's window, Beijing stirred quietly. The streets hummed with the usual morning bustle, but beneath it, currents of hidden power twisted unseen. Delivery drones hovered a fraction longer than they should.
Taxi engines stuttered mid-route. Streetlights flickered in subtle patterns. Only a few attuned eyes—teachers, minor cultivators, the occasional alert student—noticed.
Fang Ze observed from his balcony, hands tucked in pockets. His calm gaze scanned the cityscape, taking in every micro-disturbance, every ripple in the air. Even as Beijing's ordinary life continued below, he sensed threads of energy weaving through alleyways, rooftops, and corporate towers alike. A small crowd of street cultivators whispered among themselves, noting the unusual alignment of minor prodigies—a quake yet to fully awaken.
Inside his room, he reviewed the names surfacing in his memory, each carrying weight and danger:
LiMeng—Shangai's CrimsonPrince in the making, descendant of a fallen military lineage. The boy's dormant bloodline pulsed with power that could erupt violently if mishandled. Fang Ze made a mental note: observe quietly, learn his tendencies.
Nangong Yu—Lingnan's hidden heir. Cold, calculating, ambitious. Fang Ze remembered this boy from his past life; a potential ally, potential rival. He would surface soon.
Ou Haoran—Shuzhou's weapon prodigy. Prideful, temperamental, capable of brilliance… and fragility. Another soul Fang Ze watched carefully.
Mo Chen—a wandering talent from the northwest deserts. No backing, no family, yet uncanny resilience. He would walk paths few others could endure.
TangWanru—the overseas peerless talent. Pure soul resonance, unnatural in its clarity. Her rise could destabilize multiple sects and draw attention from beasts and hidden families alike. Fang Ze's brow twitched slightly; she would be a factor, but not yet.
ZhouTianming—the petty villain. Small ambition, loud bark, destined for a quick, painful fall. Fang Ze dismissed him instantly, eyes narrowing only slightly at his potential to cling to powerful factions.
And then… XueShitian. The name caused a faint pause in his breath. The young master's ambitions and influence would ripple farther than anyone anticipated. Fang Ze let it sit in his mind, a distant storm forming on the horizon.
The city itself seemed to respond, subtle vibrations traveling through streets, office towers, and ancient temples. Fang Ze's sisters—Fang Yuhan and Fang Xiaoyu—practiced quietly in the living room under his guidance. The Spiritual Listening Gathering Technique hummed faintly from him, stabilizing their Qi and subtly protecting the family from the small disturbances now rising throughout Beijing.
Outside, minor factions took note. An underground club in Chaoyang whispered about a student whose presence could stabilize volatile Qi currents. Teachers at Beijing No. 3 High subtly shifted their schedules, more alert than ever. Even netizens argued online: "That Xi'ankid… the one who barely survived? Something's happening inBeijing too."
Fang Ze remained calm, but his mind raced, mapping connections, tracing potential threats, and assessing opportunities. He knew that the Golden Era wasn't waiting for anyone—it was already moving, flowing through prodigies, hidden families, and even the petty Zhou Tianming.
He exhaled slowly. Everything was in motion. And he intended to stand at the center of the storm.