The lake's reflection shattered as Prince Yan Fengjun's entourage ascended the pavilion stairs. His pallid skin glowed faintly under enchanted lanterns, the sickly luminescence accentuating eyes that flickered like dying embers. Four Treasures' claws tightened on Lin Hao's shoulder, drawing minute blood droplets that carried the metallic tang of warning.

  "Still squandering your father's battlefield spoils, Qin Yu?" The prince's voice oozed across spilled wine puddles, each syllable leaving faint acid trails on the obsidian floor.

  Lin Hao's chopsticks hovered over braised phoenix tendons, their jade-green sheen revealing three separate poison variants to his enhanced vision. He selected the safest morsel, savoring cinnamon and nightshade undertongs as the prince's gaze crawled over him.

  "Milky eyes indeed." Yan Fengjun's jade-ringed finger tapped Lin Hao's empty wine cup. The clink resonated through suddenly silent air. "Tell me, do your eyelids flutter when you dream of light?"

  Qin Yu's fan blades emerged with the sound of unsheathing katana. Thundermourn's stone mallet thrummed with seismic energy, vibrating the tableware into precarious dances.

  The prince's bodyguard sneered, muscles rippling beneath armor inlaid with cursed sigils. "Deaf and dumb both, this—"

  Qin Yu's finger twitched.

  Air itself screamed.

  A micro-cyclone materialized around the guard—a maelstrom of wind blades flavored with Qin Yu's distinctive qi signature: pine resin and crushed mint. Flesh ribbons spiraled upward, splattering calligraphy scrolls with abstract crimson art. The pavilion filled with copper-rich mist and the guard's wet gurgles.

  "Enough." Qin Yu snapped his fingers. The vortex collapsed, leaving a twitching meat puppet glistening with exposed fascia.

  Yan Fengjun's nostrils flared, drinking the血腥气 like fine incense. His shadow stretched unnaturally, tendrils caressing the wounded guard's leaking wounds. "How... unexpectedly savage."

  Lin Hao's Samsara Eye caught the truth—the prince's shadow was feeding.

  Thundermourn's mallet impacted the floor. Cracks raced outward, severing the shadow tendrils with tectonic finality. The mountain youth's eyes glowed magma-red, his breath steaming in suddenly frigid air.

  "Leave." The single word carried the weight of avalanches.

  The prince's entourage scrambled back, slipping in their comrade's fluids. Yan Fengjun himself lingered, tongue flicking out to catch a drifting blood droplet. His pupils contracted into vertical slits. "This vintage needs aging."

  As the prince's footsteps faded, cleaning spirits emerged—translucent maidens wringing their ectoplasmic rags. Their mournful keening scrubbed away physical stains but not the psychic residue.

  ——

  Qin Yu's fan blades retracted with oiled clicks. "Apologies for the spectacle." His grin didn't reach eyes still glowing storm-gray. "The second prince collects... interesting people."

  Lin Hao traced a finger through spilled wine, drawing containment sigils only the Wolf Spider could see. "His shadow fed."

  Thundermourn grunted, mallet dissolving into mist. "Bad qi. Mountain gods dislike."

  The mountain youth's simple pronouncement carried more weight than imperial decrees. Four Treasures preened smugly, whispering into Lin Hao's ear canal: "Stone-brained oaf useful sometimes."

  ——

  As moonbeams silvered the lake, conversation turned deliberately light.

  "My mother's clan name was Yang." Lin Hao swirled his tea, watching leaves form forbidden constellations. "As a child, I nearly became Yang Chenji."

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Thundermourn choked on roast dragon tendon. Qin Yu's fan froze mid-flutter.

  The noble's recovery took 0.87 seconds—a delay only Lin Hao's enhanced perception caught. "A fortunate escape! Yang Chenji's currently—" His fan snapped open, hiding lips pressed white. "—an unpopular name in certain circles."

  Lin Hao's chopsticks stilled. The Wolf Spider's venom glands pulsed in sync with his quickening pulse.

  Four Treasures' telepathic cackle echoed: Hook set! Reel him!

  ——

  In the astral plane, the lich priest danced through seven sacrificial flames. "Oh tangled web! Oh delicious deceit!" His bony fingers plucked truth-threads from Lin Hao's aura, weaving them into a crown of lies.

  Ying Yuanzi observed through a koi fish's glassy eyes. The headmaster's consciousness rippled the water—a coded message to hidden watchers: Accelerate Yang Chenji's termination protocol.

  ——

  As the trio departed, cleaning spirits bowed low. Their ectoplasm shimmered with stolen memories—Qin Yu's concealed flinch, Thundermourn's protective glower, Lin Hao's calculated micro-expressions.

  The Wolf Spider left its own message—invisible venom glyphs etching warnings into the obsidian: This territory claimed.

  Lin Hao's enhanced hearing caught the prince's laughter echoing from distant corridors, felt the vibration of truth dangling like spider silk above a bottomless chasm.

  Tomorrow's problems. Tonight's rest.

  Four Treasures nipped his earlobe. "Scheming. Always scheming."

  Lin Hao smiled, tasting storm winds and poisoned honey on the night air.

  Threads of Inquiry

  The lakeside breeze carried charred honey-glazed pheasant and the acrid sting of spilled rice wine. Lin Hao's enhanced senses catalogued every twitch in Qin Yu's jaw muscles—micro-tensions revealing more than words ever could.

  "Yang Chenji." Qin Yu swirled his wine cup, watching dregs form ominous patterns. "Our headmaster's prized disciple. Closed-door training for three years now."

  Four Treasures' talons dug into Lin Hao's shoulder, drawing blood rich with adrenaline. The parrot's telepathic snicker echoed: Prey located.

  Lin Hao's chopsticks froze mid-bite. Braised dragon tendon dripped sauce that sizzled where it struck the Wolf Spider's invisible carapace. "Fascinating coincidence."

  Thundermourn's stone mallet materialized briefly—a subconscious threat response that cracked their table's jade inlay. The mountain youth grunted, "Names carry mountain-weight."

  ——

  Night air slapped Lin Hao's face as they exited the pavilion. His enhanced olfactory receptors catalogued approaching threats: sandalwood pomade masking sweat-soured fear, jasmine perfume undercut by menstrual blood.

  "Watch your step, Blind Prince."

  Ma Juntain's voice triggered synaptic fireworks—memory shards of tripping over strategically placed rocks, palms sinking into fresh dog excrement. The bully's current cologne couldn't mask his essence: spoiled milk and rat poison.

  Lin Hao's knuckles popped. Wolf Spider venom glands swelled in anticipation.

  Qin Yu's fan blades snicked open. "Trash belongs in gutters."

  Ma Juntain's pupils dilated—predator reflex activation. His combat boots scuffed obsidian as he backpedaled. "This... this is private—"

  Lin Hao moved.

  Air screamed.

  His semi-dragonized forearm—scales blacker than betrayal—snapped out. Ma Juntain's wrist bones crunched like roasted chestnuts. The subsequent slam-dance against pavement composed its own brutal symphony: ribs cracking like firecrackers, vertebrae popping like bubble wrap.

  ——

  In the astral plane, the lich priest conducted an orchestra of agony. "Oh sweet percussion! Bone marimba! Flesh timpani!" His ectoplasmic tears evaporated into curse-laden mist.

  Ying Yuanzi observed through a cleaning spirit's borrowed eyes. The headmaster's consciousness noted Lin Hao's controlled brutality—precisely thirteen impacts, each calibrated to maximize pain without permanent damage.

  Calculated catharsis, he mused. Therapy through violence.

  ——

  Zhao Ling'er's jade hairpin trembled. Her qi signature spiked—shame and reluctant arousal warring beneath cultivated poise. When Lin Hao's enhanced hearing detected her accelerated heartbeat, the Wolf Spider's mandibles clacked in dark amusement.

  "Enough."

  Lin Hao released Ma Juntain's pulverized form. The bully's whimpers harmonized with distant owl hoots.

  Qin Yu fanned himself theatrically. "Our Blind Prince plays rough."

  Thundermourn sniffed the bleeding heap. "Still breathes. Soft."

  ——

  As spectators scattered, Lin Hao's dragon-scales retracted with the sound of scraping tombstones. His meridians hummed with released tension—years of humiliation exorcised through kinetic therapy.

  Zhao Ling'er's retreating footsteps left fractal imprints in his auditory memory. The Wolf Spider marked her scent profile: peony soap undercut by metallic resolve.

  Four Treasures preened, telepathic purr vibrating Lin Hao's skull: Heartbeats don't lie. She wants you.

  Lin Hao flicked congealing blood from his nails. "Want and need differ."

  ——

  The walk back to dormitories became a sensory overload. Qin Yu's nervous sweat carried hints of iron-rich anxiety. Thundermourn's stone mallet radiated ancestral grudges. Even the cobblestones whispered tales of past beatings.

  At their doorstep, Ying Yuanzi's surveillance ivy recoiled from Lin Hao's residual draconic aura. The Wolf Spider left territorial markings—venomous hieroglyphs warning: Hunters hunt here.

  Lin Hao's final act before sleep: etching Yang Chenji's name into a wax tablet with claw-tipped fingers. The letters glowed faintly, their luminescence matching the Samsara Eye's dormant state.

  Tomorrow's problems. Tonight's rest.

  Four Treasures nestled into his pillow, dreaming of cracked bones and forthcoming vengeance.