The Lin family gates loomed like the jaws of a beast, their carved serpent crest mocking Lin Hao with every step. Memories flooded back—six months ago, he’d crossed this threshold as a blind sacrifice draped in humiliation’s red silks. Now, the scent of gardenias from the east courtyard mingled with the metallic tang of his simmering rage.

  “Halt!”

  Wu Zhixing’s nasal voice cut through the courtyard’s tension. The obese administrator waddled into view, jowls quivering with manufactured authority. The Kung Fu Fly’s compound vision parsed his greasy pores and the faint bloodstains beneath his manicured nails—evidence of recent “entertainments.”

  “Trash bridegroom returns?” Wu sneered, blocking the path. “Did the Zhao family tire of their blind pet?”

  Lin Hao’s nostrils flared. This man reeked of camphor oil and decayed morality—a stench unchanged since childhood days when Wu had “inspected” the orphanage’s bathing quarters.

  “Step aside.”

  Wu’s piggish eyes narrowed. “You forfeited the Lin name when you crawled into Zhao Ling’er’s bed. This is no longer—”

  Crack!

  The first slap snapped Wu’s head sideways, teeth clacking against his gold-capped molars. Before the administrator could scream, two more strikes cratered his cheeks, the sound echoing through the courtyard like festival firecrackers.

  “Remember,” Lin Hao said calmly, flexing scaled knuckles, “my surname is Lin.”

  Guards Ma Liu and Chen Hu bit back grins as Wu staggered. The Wolf Spider’s venomous silk already coiled around the administrator’s ankles—invisible restraints that would leave him bedridden for weeks.

  ———

  The ancestral hall’s sandalwood incense failed to mask the rot beneath. Lin Hao’s enhanced hearing parsed whispered negotiations from behind a jade partition:

  “...thirty percent of northern grain routes...”

  “...my Wanrong remains pure, Elder Li...”

  The Kung Fu Fly darted through a ventilation slit, projecting images into Lin Hao’s mind—Patriarch Lin bowing to a skeletal figure draped in funeral silks. Lin Wanrong knelt nearby, her jade hairpin’s tip pressed discreetly against her jugular.

  “Apologies for interrupting.”

  Lin Hao shouldered through the partition, dragon scales rippling across his neck. The Gravity Armor’s x3 weight multiplier crushed tiles beneath his boots.

  Elder Li’s milky eyes narrowed. “The defective seedling dares sprout?”

  “Defective?” Lin Hao’s smile revealed elongated canines. “This seedling’s roots run deep.”

  The Wolf Spider dropped from rafters, venom sacs pulsing. Before the Shadow Blades could draw weapons, paralysis threads cocooned their limbs. Lin Wanrong’s gasp lodged in her throat as Lin Hao’s scaled hand closed around Elder Li’s parchment-thin wrist.

  “Release her betrothal,” he growled, “or watch your dynasty crumble tonight.”

  The Patriarch surged forward, qi flaring. “You overstep, whelp!”

  A blur of metallic wings intercepted him—the Kung Fu Fly pinning the Patriarch’s ceremonial sword against marble. Lin Hao didn’t glance back. His focus remained on the trembling elder whose pulse fluttered like a caged sparrow.

  “The Li family’s granaries burn as we speak,” Lin Hao lied smoothly. “Shall I extinguish the flames... or fan them?”

  Elder Li’s resolve crumbled faster than desiccated bones. “The contract... nullified!”

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  ———

  Dawn found Lin Hao and Wanrong atop the Drunken Pavilion, its curved eaves dripping with last night’s rain. The city below smoldered in metaphorical ashes—no true fires lit, but rumors already spiraled about Li family “misfortunes.”

  “You’ve changed,” Wanrong murmured, tracing the obsidian scales along his forearm. “Become... dangerous.”

  Lin Hao watched the Fly circle patrols diverting search parties. “Danger defends what sweetness cannot.”

  She laughed—a sound he hadn’t heard since childhood winters spent huddling for warmth. “What now, little brother?”

  “Now,” he said, tossing a gravity bracer into the canal below, “we disappear.”

  The Wolf Spider spun a silken bridge across rooftops as Lin Hao shouldered a packed travel trunk. Inside—forged lineage scrolls, alchemical reagents, and every blackmail document Wu Zhixing had hidden beneath his brocade bed.

  “Tianyan Academy’s trials begin tomorrow,” Wanrong noted, adjusting her servant’s disguise.

  “Then we’ll enter as shadows,” Lin Hao replied, the Dragonbane Sword humming at his hip. “And leave as storms.”

  Behind them, the Lin compound’s bells tolled false alarms. Ahead, the academy’s obsidian gates yawned wide—a maw ready to test forged steel against ancient magic.

  The Ant-Man

  Wu Zhixing’s bloated face paled as he stared at the chipped blade. The Kung Fu Fly perched on Lin Hao’s shoulder, its metallic wings glinting with lethal promise. Guards Ma Liu and Chen Hu exchanged awed glances—their childhood friend now commanded forces beyond mortal comprehension.

  Lin Hao strode deeper into the compound, ancestral halls looming like judgmental specters. Servants’ whispers trailed him like poisoned darts:

  “The blind bridegroom returns...”

  “How does the Zhao family tolerate such trash?”

  A cold smile curved Lin Hao’s lips. His thumb brushed a black ant crawling across weathered stone.

  Ding.

  The system’s chime resonated through his consciousness.

  [Host has captured an ant. Designate as pet?]

  Yes.

  [Name your new companion.]

  “Ant-Man.”

  [Designation confirmed. Commencing D-tier evolution with advanced enhancement.]

  Lin Hao’s Myriad Gold Card flickered as 1.01 million taels vanished. The ant in his palm underwent metamorphosis—exoskeleton hardening to obsidian steel, mandibles elongating into serrated blades. Its antennae pulsed with psionic energy.

  Ant-Man

  Code: 003

  Master: Lin Hao

  Combat Power: 2000

  Lifespan: 300 days

  Skill: Ant Swarm Summoning (Level 1)

  “Entertain them,” Lin Hao murmured.

  The enhanced ant’s antennae vibrated, emitting subsonic waves that rippled through the earth. Beneath the servants’ mocking feet, tunnels erupted with crimson fire ants—their venomous jaws snapping at exposed ankles.

  “Aiyo! Something’s biting me!”

  A skeletal servant leaped like a marionette, slapping at his robes. Others followed suit, their jeers transforming into panicked shrieks as the swarm ascended. Lin Hao’s milky eyes tracked the chaos through the Kung Fu Fly’s panoramic vision—a dark tide of insects boiling across polished stone.

  The compound’s elite guards arrived in clattering armor. Captain Hong, a grizzled warrior with flame-engraved pauldrons, bellowed orders: “Clear this filth before the Patriarch’s guests witness this disgrace!”

  His greatsword ignited with qi-fed flames. The blade swept horizontally, unleashing a crescent of fire that vaporized thousands of ants. The stench of charred chitin filled the air.

  Lin Hao leaned against a moon gate, Wolf Spider crouched protectively at his heels. Ant-Man’s telemetric data streamed into his mind—colony losses at 12%, reinforcements en route from western granaries.

  “Focus on the loud ones,” he instructed silently.

  The swarm diverged, targeting particularly vocal servants. A plump laundress who’d mocked Lin Hao’s blindness found fire ants swarming her jade hairpins. A stable boy who’d imitated his stumbling gait screamed as insects invaded his boots.

  Captain Hong’s face purpled with rage. “You!” He pointed his smoldering blade at Lin Hao. “This is your doing!”

  The Kung Fu Fly darted forward, metallic wings shearing through the sword’s fiery aura. Captain Hong staggered back, armor dented where the insect had struck like a cannonball.

  “Nature’s whims, Captain.” Lin Hao stroked Ant-Man’s armored thorax. “Perhaps your halls needed cleansing.”

  From the ancestral hall’s shadowed eaves, Patriarch Lin observed the chaos through slitted eyes. His fingers tightened around a jade communication talisman.

  “Summon the Venomous Fang Battalion,” he whispered to an attendant. “And prepare the Soul Shackles.”

  Unseen by all, Ant-Man’s swarm had already infiltrated the armory. Soldier ants gnawed through bowstrings while others contaminated rice stores with paralytic pheromones.

  Lin Hao turned toward the guest pavilion, where Lin Wanrong’s qi signature flickered like a caged songbird. The Wolf Spider scuttled ahead, spinning tripwires of adhesive silk across patrol routes.

  “Let’s reunite family,” he murmured, Ant-Man’s legion parting before him like a living carpet.

  In the central courtyard, servants now groveled instead of jeering. Their swollen faces and trembling limbs bore witness to Lin Hao’s unspoken rule—mockery answered not with words, but with the inexorable logic of the hive.

  As dusk fell, the compound’s lanterns illuminated a surreal scene: a blind man walking untouched through insectile tempest, his path cleared by nature’s most underestimated soldiers.

  Captain Hong’s subsequent investigation would find no evidence of tampering—only unfortunate coincidence. But in servants’ quarters and guard halls, a new truth took root: the Lin family’s discarded son now commanded legions that respected neither steel nor flame.