The estate stood silent beneath the cold sweep of the night, an impenetrable blend of ancient sigils and cutting-edge security. High walls, veined with shimmering protective wards, surrounded the compound, humming softly like a warning.
Beneath the main wing, deep within the estate's core, the Liang Family assembled in the war room.
The space was sleek, modern — black stone floors, glass tactical tables, digital maps flickering with active alerts — yet at its heart, tradition still ruled.
At the head of the table stood Liang Zhen, eldest son, commander of the family's forces, his bearing carved from years of battlefield precision. His uniform was plain, but his presence filled the room with weight.
Beside him, poised and cold-eyed, was Liang Fei. Dressed sharply, he held a tablet in hand, columns of numbers and political forecasts scrolling in silent streams across its surface.
One by one, the siblings gathered.
Liang Jin, restless and stormy, tapping his fingers against his thigh.
Liang Mei, elegant and composed, the only sibling who seemed untouched by the tension crackling in the air.
Liang Ran, youngest of them all, quiet and observant, her serious gaze betraying wisdom far beyond her years.
And Liang Yue, dressed now in a simple black tunic, standing straighter than she felt, the overheard threats of the summit still sharp in her ears.
Liang Zhen wasted no time.
"At first light, the Summit resumes," he said, his voice flat and clear. "By then, the lines will be drawn."
He activated the table display. A 3D model of the estate spun slowly above the glass, red zones highlighting breach points, evacuation routes, and vulnerable access paths.
"We have confirmation the Lei and Bai envoys are moving together," he continued. "Possibly with covert support from splinter Wu factions. We prepare for coordinated disruption."
Liang Fei picked up without missing a beat.
"Diplomatic fallout is inevitable," he said coolly. "Our public position must remain defensive. Any perception of aggression gives them the justification they seek."
His words clicked sharply in the cold room.
Liang Yue stood still, her mind racing ahead. She could still hear the murmured plots from the corridor, the veiled threats to her life and the future of their bloodline.
Liang Zhen's gaze settled briefly on her — hard, steady, protective.
"Our primary objective remains," he said. "Protect the Fourth Bloodline. Protect Liang Yue."
There it was, spoken aloud.
The reason for all of this.
Liang Jin bristled immediately, unable to contain himself.
"We should strike first," he said, voice low but furious. "Make it clear we won't be cornered."
Liang Mei, seated with perfect calm, shook her head.
"Too soon," she said. "Their goal is to provoke us. We must not fall into it."
Her voice was quiet but firm, slicing through the heat of Jin's anger.
Liang Fei nodded slightly.
"We maintain the image of control," he said. "If they move openly, we have every right to respond. Until then — patience."
A stillness settled over the room, thick with unsaid fears.
Liang Ran, small and solemn, finally spoke.
"And if they attack without warning?"
Liang Fei pulled up a second map — hidden passageways, encrypted communication lines, fallback points.
"Evacuation protocols will be activated," he said. "Key assets will be secured first."
Everyone knew what "key assets" meant.
Everyone looked briefly at Liang Yue.
Liang Yue straightened her spine. She wouldn't flinch. Not here. Not in front of them.
Liang Zhen gave the final order:
"Prepare yourselves. Rest if you can. Arm yourselves if you can't."
The meeting broke apart in waves of quiet footsteps.
Liang Jin stormed out first, muttering under his breath. Liang Mei guided Ran away with a gentle hand, her composure untouched. Liang Fei lingered a moment, exchanging rapid, whispered plans with Zhen — fallback leadership orders, contingency reinforcements.
Only Liang Yue remained at the table, staring at the slowly dimming tactical maps until they faded to black.
Zhen approached her in the near-darkness.
"Yue," he said, softer now, no longer the general — just her brother. "Whatever happens tomorrow... don't let them pull you into their fear."
She met his gaze, steady and quiet.
"I'm not afraid."
He gave a short, grim smile.
"Good. But fear isn't the real danger. Rage is. Despair is. They'll try to turn your power into a weapon against yourself."
He knelt slightly, bringing them eye to eye.
"No matter what happens," he said, "you are Liang Yue. You are ours. And we do not break."
He rose, placed a hand briefly on her shoulder — strong, steady — then turned and left, his figure dissolving into the shadowed corridors beyond.
Liang Yue sat there, unmoving.
Outside, the protective wards flared and shimmered faintly under the rising pressure. The city beyond the walls slept on, unaware of the cold war threading itself tighter with every passing hour.
Inside the estate, tradition and technology interlocked like armor — beautiful, unyielding, fragile.
Tomorrow, the first blow would fall.
And when it did, she would not shatter.
She would rise.