Feng Ming now understood his predicament all too well he was walking on the edge of a blade, and death could descend upon him at any moment.
Above all, the silence from his grandfather weighed heaviest on his mind. Despite his sudden surge in cultivation, the patriarch had made no move to summon or speak with him. That absence alone gnawed at Feng Ming's nerves like a slow poison.
He stood by the window of his secluded courtyard, his gaze distant, mind whirring.
"There are several possibilities," he mused silently. "But the most likely are two."
"First, grandfather is embroiled in something vast and all consuming, so much so that he has no time to concern himself with my sudden rise. If that's the case, it's the best outcome for me."
"Second he suspects I am a reincarnated being from the higher heavens. Perhaps he's biding his time, watching, waiting to catch me off guard. He doesn't know if I possess a life-saving trump card how could he, when even his spiritual probing at my birth found nothing?"
"To act hastily and kill me would be the most foolish move. He would gain nothing. If he couldn't discover the secret then, what makes him believe he can seize it now through brute force? That would only risk losing it forever."
"As for capturing me alive, that's even more dangerous for him. If he truly believes I hail from a higher realm, how could he possibly predict the methods or artifacts I might possess? He would make an enemy of someone far beyond his comprehension and gain nothing in return."
At that moment, a presence approached. Feng Ming sensed it through his spiritual sense before the soft knock even came.
Chen Da stood at the door, bowing respectfully.
Feng Ming opened the door with a calm expression and asked coolly, "Why are you here at this hour?"
Chen Da straightened. "Young Master, the Patriarch has summoned you. All your uncles have been called to the family hall as well."
Feng Ming's eyes narrowed for a breath, but he quickly masked his surprise. "You may go," he said.
Chen Da bowed again and departed.
Feng Ming watched him disappear beyond the garden walls. His lips curled into a faint, ironic smile.
"So the game begins sooner than expected."
Without delay, he adjusted his robes and departed for the family hall.
When he entered, the grandeur of the place struck him as always the immense chamber carved from crimson jade, the air laced with incense, and above all, the oppressive presence of the patriarch seated high on the central throne. Feng Shui, his grandfather, radiated authority from that elevated seat like an emperor presiding over his court. Below him sat Feng Ming's father and uncles, each in their designated seats, like ministers awaiting judgment.
Feng Ming walked forward and bowed with practiced grace.
"Greetings, Grandfather. Greetings, elders."
He then took his seat, his posture respectful yet composed.
Feng Shui's gaze fell upon him sharp, unreadable.
"It seems your cultivation has improved," the patriarch said in a voice that left no room for denial. "You're not far from stepping into the Third Heaven."
Feng Ming's heart skipped a beat.
Out of all the possible moves he chose the direct one? How uncharacteristically foolish.
But he quickly reined in his thoughts.
No a man like Feng Shui doesn't make foolish moves. He's testing me. Trying to determine if I'm simply a blessed youth with a fortuitous treasure or something far more dangerous.
If he claimed to have gained his power through a chance encounter, his grandfather would dismiss him as a lucky boy expendable. Killing him would then pose no risk, and the secret he harbored would be lost.
No that would be fatal.
The best path forward was to feed the doubt. To make Feng Shui hesitate. To make him believe that Feng Ming's identity was far more profound.
Feng Ming stood, cupped his hands respectfully, and replied with a calm smile:
"It's all thanks to Father's bloodline and your divine lineage, Grandfather, that I possess a trace of talent."