Duskwind Hollow rested in the crook of a jagged valley, hidden beneath centuries-old pines and the ever-present mist that coiled like smoke around its ridges. Snow dusted the rooftops of timber lodges and clung stubbornly to the stones lining the narrow paths. From afar, it seemed a quiet place. Peaceful.
But silence often hides knives.
Li Rong sat alone on the edge of a frost-cracked stone wall, overlooking the lower training grounds where the clan's youth practiced footwork and strikes beneath the barking orders of Instructor Han. His black hair hung loose to his shoulders, dark eyes unmoving as he observed. He neither spoke nor joined them. He simply watched—silent, still, like a wolf waiting in the shade.
Behind him, the tall structure of the main lodge loomed with its wolf-tooth carvings and flared eaves. His family had once stood at the heart of this village's pride.
His grandfather, Li Tianmu, had been a war hero during the border purges decades ago, leading the Bronze-Back Wolf Riders against bandits and spirit beasts alike. His father, Li Wei, inherited that blade and made it sharper—becoming a feared hunter and captain of the village guard.
His mother, Su Wenying, had no spirit beast worth naming, but her scrolls and records still guided the clan's healers and planners. She'd taught Li Rong to read before he could walk.
That was before the fractures came.
Now, the clan was no longer united. The elders had split into factions—one loyal to the old traditions of strength and battle, the other seeking outside favor through politics and sect alliances. Elder Mo Jian, sharp-eyed and quiet-spoken, led the former. Elder Lin Qiu, Lin Feng's grandfather, led the latter.
Lin Feng, heir to that ambition, trained with flourish at the courtyard's center. Every movement exaggerated. Every strike loud. His Bronze-Back Wolf spirit shimmered behind him in ghostly bronze light as he barked orders like a boy general.
Li Rong's expression did not change.
Footsteps approached from behind. Heavy. Measured.
"Spying again, boy?" It was Lin Feng, sneering as he wiped sweat from his brow. "You like watching more than doing?"
Li Rong didn't answer.
Feng clicked his tongue. "Don't think being Li Wei's brat gives you the right to skulk around like a ghost. Your mother had no spirit, remember? Maybe you'll awaken the same. Something weak. Like her."
Still no response.
The silence stretched.
Feng stepped closer, but a sharp bark from a nearby instructor halted him. He spat at Li Rong's feet instead. "See you at the ceremony, shadow-rat."
He left laughing, his entourage trailing after him like hounds.
Only once they were gone did Li Rong exhale. Slowly.
Behind his still eyes, thoughts moved like turning gears. Lin Feng was loud. Arrogant. Predictable.
That made him vulnerable.
That night, the family gathered at the hearth. The lodge was simple—wooden beams, a clay oven, a few hunting trophies on the walls—but warmth pulsed from the fire, and from the quiet, comforting presence of family.
Li Wei sat sharpening his old glaive, the same one he'd carried into the Thousand Fang Forests in his youth. Li Xue, Rong's younger sister, chattered with their mother, who was laying out robes for the Awakening Ceremony.
Su Wenying looked up and smiled gently at her son. "You'll wear this tomorrow. It was your grandfather's. I stitched the hem."
Li Rong nodded.
His father studied him. "You've been quiet lately."
"I'm always quiet," he replied.
"That's not what I meant."
A pause.
"You know the factions are watching," Wei said. "They'll judge you by more than your spirit."
"I know."
"You carry two legacies," his mother added softly. "Your father's blade… and my words. Don't let one blind you to the other."
Li Rong stood, his voice even. "I won't disappoint either of you."
He left for his room, the firelight casting his shadow long behind him.
Tomorrow, the Spirit Stone would judge him.
And the rest of the clan would follow.
But unlike Lin Feng… he had no need for cheers or flattery.
He would build his strength in silence.
And when the time came, he would not ask for power.
He would take it.