Morning mist still clung to the training grounds when Liu Tiansheng's voice echoed across the estate, enhanced by Core Formation power to reach every corner.
"All Liu family disciples below Qi Condensation, assemble in the main courtyard. Important announcement."
Zǔ Zhòu set down the temporal theory text he'd been pretending to struggle with, marking his page with deliberate care. Two weeks had passed since the feast, since Liu Chen returned to the academy with promises to write about new insights. Time for the next phase.
The main courtyard filled quickly—forty-three disciples ranging from early Body Tempering to peak Foundation Establishment. The family's younger generation, arranged by both age and cultivation level. Zǔ Zhòu positioned himself carefully, not among the Body Tempering juniors where he technically belonged, but slightly apart. Close enough to show humility, separate enough to indicate his recent elevation.
Liu Feng stood at the front, naturally commanding space as the strongest present. Foundation Establishment Ninth Stage at nineteen, one step from Core Formation. His recent advancement had only reinforced his position as undisputed heir.
"The annual youth competition will occur in one month," Liu Tiansheng announced without preamble. "As always, rankings will determine resource allocation for the coming year. Spirit stones, pill access, training ground priority, technique permissions—all decided by your performance."
Excited whispers rippled through the gathering. For most, this represented opportunity. For some, desperation. Resources could make the difference between advancement and stagnation.
"This year brings changes," the patriarch continued. "Given recent... developments"—his eyes found Zǔ Zhòu briefly—"we're implementing tier divisions. Body Tempering disciples compete separately from Foundation Establishment. Qi Condensation remains its own category."
Logical change. Zǔ Zhòu's rapid advancement had created an anomaly—a Body Tempering cultivator who could threaten those entire realms above. The modification preserved competitive balance while acknowledging new realities.
"Furthermore, exceptional performance may earn access to restricted techniques. The family vault contains methods we've deemed too dangerous for general study. Prove your control and dedication, and these may open to you."
Now that was interesting. Zǔ Zhòu felt several disciples' attention shift to him, wondering if his temporal manual had emerged from such restrictions. Let them wonder.
"Liu Feng will demonstrate the competition format," Liu Tiansheng concluded. "Study well. Train hard. Honor your bloodline."
The crowd dispersed slowly, disciples forming discussion clusters. Zǔ Zhòu heard his name repeatedly—some dismissive of the "lucky deviation," others worried about facing temporal techniques. Perfect dissension to exploit.
"Third Brother," Liu Feng's voice cut through the chatter. The heir approached with his usual controlled confidence. "A word?"
They walked to a quieter section, Liu Feng's followers maintaining respectful distance. Up close, Zǔ Zhòu could read the micro-expressions his eldest brother usually hid. Calculation, certainly. But underneath... concern?
"Your advancement has been remarkable," Liu Feng began. "Father speaks of modifying competition structure because of you. That's... unprecedented."
"I've been fortunate—"
"Don't." Liu Feng's tone sharpened. "False modesty insults us both. You've advanced from Third Stage to Fifth in three months. You've discovered or been given access to techniques that shouldn't exist. Either you're the luckiest cultivator alive, or something else drives your progress."
Zǔ Zhòu let silence stretch, then chose calculated honesty. "The deviation changed me, Eldest Brother. I can't explain it properly—Elder Feng says my meridians show unique adaptations. The manual resonates because I'm... different now."
"Different." Liu Feng studied him intently. "But still my brother?"
Ah. There it was. Not jealousy but deeper fear—that advancement might corrupt family bonds. Liu Feng projected strength, but underneath lay profound need for his position to mean something beyond mere power. The heir who feared becoming just another strong cultivator, indistinguishable from ambitious cousins.
"Always," Zǔ Zhòu lied smoothly. "Power serves family. Isn't that what Father teaches?"
Relief flickered across Liu Feng's features before control reasserted. "Indeed. Then I look forward to seeing your performance. The Body Tempering division should prove... interesting with you participating."
After they parted, Zǔ Zhòu activated his servant network through subtle hand signals. Within hours, detailed intelligence flooded back through whispered reports and hidden notes.
"Liu Qiang practices additional hours nightly, desperate to maintain third position..."
"Cousin Liu Xiao experiments with forbidden pills, risking deviation for advancement..."
"Liu Yun weeps in private, knowing she'll likely place last again..."
Each weakness catalogued, each insecurity noted. But the most valuable intelligence came from his eldest brother's personal servants, carefully cultivated over months.
"Young Master Feng dreams repeatedly of the ancestor's portrait hall," Hong's daughter reported, eyes downcast. "He stands before Liu Zongshi's image—the founder—and finds his own portrait fading. He wakes calling 'I am more than just another strong Liu!'"
Fear of mediocrity. Terror of being forgotten among generations of powerful cultivators. Liu Feng's deepest dread was becoming just another competent patriarch in an endless line, distinguished only by birth order rather than deed.
"Delicious," Zǔ Zhòu murmured. "The strongest fears being ordinary. How beautifully exploitable."
He spent the evening designing his approach. Not direct confrontation—Liu Feng would crush him in fair combat. But psychological warfare required no cultivation realm, only understanding of human frailty.
His public training began the next morning. "Desperate preparation" performed for maximum visibility—arriving before dawn, leaving after sunset, pushing his body to apparent limits. Let them see Liu Wei terrified of losing his newfound status, fighting to prove deviation-granted gifts weren't fleeting.
Privately, he refined terror techniques.
The first seeds were subtle. During group training, he'd mention historical Liu family members with studied casualness. "Liu Feng—no, not you, Eldest Brother. The third patriarch's second son. Also strong, also heir, also... forgotten. What did he achieve again?"
Watch Liu Feng's jaw tighten. See him research that night, discovering another powerful Liu Feng who ruled competently and vanished from memory within two generations.
Next, corrupted compliments. "Your orthodox strength is so admirable, Eldest Brother. In a thousand years, they'll say 'Liu Feng? Which one? Oh, the traditionally powerful one.'"
Each word carefully chosen. Surface praise hiding deeper cuts. Traditional meant unremarkable. Orthodox meant predictable. Powerful-like-others meant forgettable.
The psychological campaign intensified daily. Zǔ Zhòu had servants accidentally discuss historical patriarchs within Liu Feng's hearing. Always powerful men. Always competent leaders. Always forgotten unless they'd done something unique.
"—Liu Tianwei was strong too, reached Core Formation at twenty-one—"
"So? Dozens of patriarchs did. Now he's just another portrait gathering dust—"
By week's end, Liu Feng's training showed subtle changes. More aggressive. More desperate to prove uniqueness. He began experimenting with unconventional techniques, trying to develop signature moves that would distinguish him from historical precedent.
"Your brother seems troubled," Elder Feng noted during their supervised session.
"Competition pressure affects everyone differently," Zǔ Zhòu replied, demonstrating a temporal technique with calculated imperfection. "I desperately train because I fear returning to mediocrity. Perhaps Eldest Brother fears something else?"
The elder's eyes sharpened. "What would the heir fear?"
"Being hereditary rather than legendary?" Innocent speculation that would reach Liu Feng within hours, another seed of doubt planted.
Zǔ Zhòu maintained his exhausting public schedule while his servant network documented every competitor's preparation. Liu Qiang pushed too hard and strained his meridians. Liu Xiao's forbidden pills caused minor deviations. Liu Yun found unexpected strength in desperation.
Each data point refined his strategy. The competition would showcase more than cultivation—it would demonstrate psychological mastery disguised as desperate effort.
"Estimated placements?" his anchor servant asked during a private moment.
"Publicly? Third in Body Tempering division. High enough to show growth, low enough to avoid threatening hierarchies." He smiled coldly. "But the real victory will be Liu Feng's performance. By competition day, he'll be so desperate to prove uniqueness that orthodox excellence becomes impossible."
"And the others?"
"Psychological pressure points activated where useful. Liu Qiang will overextend and embarrass himself. Liu Xiao's pills will create public deviation symptoms. Small destructions that highlight my 'stability' despite rapid advancement."
Three weeks until competition. Three weeks to refine forty-three disciples into perfectly positioned pieces on his board. Some would rise, some fall, all according to careful design.
But Liu Feng remained the masterpiece—the strongest brought low not by power but by existential dread. The heir who had everything except the certainty it mattered.
"Tomorrow, we escalate," Zǔ Zhòu decided. "Time for dear Eldest Brother to discover just how many forgotten Liu Fengs haunt our family history."
The competition would determine resource allocation.
But first, it would demonstrate that strength meant nothing if you feared your own meaninglessness.
And Zǔ Zhòu had become very good at teaching fear.