The halls of the Wu estate were made of silence. Not the peaceful kind—but the sharp, deliberate kind that pressed against the skin and demanded awareness. Wu Xian moved through them with quiet precision, boots gliding across shadow-veined tiles. The long windows allowed shafts of moonlight to stripe the floor in silver.
He had been summoned.
Not by his father—not this time—but by the Elders' Circle. A rare occurrence, even for him.
He entered the inner chamber, where a crescent-shaped window cast its pale glow. The Wu crest—an obsidian phoenix rising from a storm, with a crescent moon at its heart—hung like a watchful eye above the gathering of gray-cloaked figures.
"You've been to the Liang estate," one elder began, her voice dry as old leaves. Her eyes were pale and unblinking.
"Yes," Wu Xian replied.
"And the girl?"
He paused, weighing his words. "She is... sharp. Observant. She listens with her eyes."
"Dangerous," another murmured.
"Interesting," corrected the First Elder, her tone measured. "The Fourth Bloodline is evolving."
Wu Xian remained still.
"The void stirs near her," the First Elder said, tapping her cane against the stone. "We want you to watch her. Not intervene. Not yet. Observe. Report."
"I understand."
But he didn't—entirely.
Because Liang Yue did not wield power like others. Hers was quiet, steady—like something ancient and watching from beneath the surface. And it had stirred something within him.
Later that night, in the solitude of the west wing, Wu Xian stood before his private training chamber—a dark void that shimmered faintly like water under starlight. At a thought, the chamber bloomed open into a simulation of shifting space and light.
He stepped through.
Inside, time and gravity bent to his will. He danced through blades, vanished before impact, disrupted matter mid-flight. This was the legacy of the Voidstrike—not brute force, but distortion. Control of reality at its thinnest seams.
But even as he moved, Liang Yue's face remained in his mind. Nine years old. Yet already bearing the weight of something unspoken. She hadn't flinched in his presence. She had measured him—not with fear, but with calculation.
The Wu feared her kind.
And yet, he found himself drawn—not by curiosity, but by recognition.
By dawn, Wu Xian stood at the edge of the family observatory, overlooking the dense woods beyond the estate. The sky was heavy with clouds, but the crescent moon still shimmered faintly above the trees.
His uncle's voice broke the quiet.
"She reminds you of someone?"
Wu Xian didn't turn. "No. But I think... she will."
His uncle gave a rare nod, quiet for a moment before saying, "Be careful. The Fourth Bloodline doesn't leave those it touches unchanged."
Wu Xian said nothing. He didn't need to.
He already understood.
He had seen stars collapse in silence. And now, he had met a girl who might bend worlds—
not with power, but with gravity.
Back in his chamber, just before sleep, a message appeared on his tablet. It bore the seal of his father.
"When the time comes, you will choose. Not for them. Not for us. But for yourself."
Wu Xian stared at the words for a long time.
He didn't reply.
But something in him shifted.