Weaponized Incompetence.

  Matron Lu Ying had one thought as she listened to the young woman.

  “Oh. This one hasn’t learned to fake competence yet.” She thought.

  The matron realized she could not scold, coddle, or ignore Xin. To do so would be to contradict the Lord.

  “Come,” she said, not unkindly. Not warm either. “We’ll start slowly.”

  Xin bowed, then turned and gave a small smile and a little wave goodbye to Wukai, who watched her with his Spirit Sense.

  “You will make mistakes,” Lu Ying continued as they walked. “That is expected.”

  She glanced down at Xin, measuring.

  “You will ask when confused,” she added. “That is permitted.”

  A beat.

  “And you will listen when corrected,” she finished. “That is required.”

  Xin nodded quickly. “Yes, Matron.”

  Lu Ying paused once more and said, dryly:

  “And ‘acclimatizing’ means learning quietly.”

  Xin smiled sheepishly. “I will practice the word.”

  Lu Ying snorted before she could stop herself—then straightened. “This way,” she said.

  As they walked, Xin looked around wide-eyed. “So, Matron, will I do a job like you? Is that why I am here for the prince…or no, the Young or Younger…youngest?”

  Xin trailed off, talking quietly to herself. “The younger lord, no young lord but…does this mean there is an old lord…Uh, Matron, may I ask a question?” She tilted her head, confused.

  Lu Ying stopped walking.

  Xin stopped instantly, mid-word.

  “Breathe,” Lu Ying said calmly.

  Xin did.

  “You are allowed to ask questions,” Lu Ying continued.

  “You are not allowed to spill them.”

  Xin flushed.

  “When you have a question,” Lu Ying said, “you hold it. You decide what it is actually about. Then you ask one sentence.”

  She waited.

  Xin swallowed. “Yes, Matron.”

  Lu Ying nodded once.

  “Now,” she said, resuming her pace, “try again.”

  Xin nodded, and Lu Ying waited for a question she assumed was coming that did not.

  “So, do the Young Master's parents live here too? Are they nice? Does he have siblings?” Xin asked, smiling as she leaned in, eager to hear what the matron had to say.

  Lu Ying stopped her again.

  Xin froze—half-leaning forward, smile still there, then fading as she realized she’d misstepped once more.

  “No,” Lu Ying said calmly.

  Not sharp. Not angry. Just final.

  “You did not ask one question,” she continued. “You asked three. And all of them reach upward.”

  Xin blinked, then glanced up, then made eye contact again, waiting for clarification.

  Xin’s cheeks reddened. “I— I was just—”

  “I know,” Lu Ying said, cutting it off gently but decisively.

  “That is why we are correcting it now.”

  She turned fully to face Xin.

  “In this house,” she said, “you do not ask about the Lord’s family unless the Lord speaks of them first.”

  Xin turned pale as her mouth fell open, then she mouthed the words “Oh my gods, are they dead?”

  Lu Ying’s hand came up—not touching Xin, not striking—just there.

  “Stop,” she said.

  The word landed like a door closing.

  Xin’s breath caught. Her face went from pale to stricken as she realized—too late—that she had crossed something she couldn’t see.

  Lu Ying leaned in slightly so her voice wouldn't carry.

  “No,” she said calmly. “They are not dead.”

  Xin sagged with relief—then stiffened again as Lu Ying continued.

  “And you will never speculate about the Lord’s family again.”

  Xin blinked.

  Lu Ying stilled and took a breath. “Speculate is to make a baseless assumption about it.”

  Xin’s mouth opened, and her eyes slightly widened as she gave a lost smile. “Okay,” she agreed.

  Lu Ying watched her for a long breath.

  “‘Okay’ is not confirmation,” she said evenly.

  Xin nodded. “Yes.”

  Lu Ying held her gaze a moment longer.

  “Say it back,” she said.

  Xin nodded quickly. “Yes.”

  Lu Ying exhaled once through her nose.

  “No,” she said calmly.

  Xin froze.

  “That,” Lu Ying continued, “was not saying it back.”

  Xian nodded. “Okay.” She smiled.

  Lu Ying closed her eyes for a brief moment.

  When she opened them, her voice was still calm—but different.

  “Stop smiling,” she said.

  Xin’s smile vanished instantly.

  “Good,” Lu Ying continued. “You are not in trouble.”

  Xin blinked, confused.

  “You are doing what you were trained to do,” Lu Ying said evenly.

  “That training is wrong for this house.”

  She shifted her stance slightly, lowering her voice.

  “I am not asking you to agree,” she said.

  “I am not asking you to please me.”

  Xin’s hands curled in her sleeves.

  “I am asking you to choose words.”

  A pause.

  “So, we will change the task.”

  Lu Ying raised two fingers.

  “I will give you two sentences,” she said.

  “You will choose the one that matches the rule.”

  Xin nodded—careful now.

  Lu Ying spoke slowly.

  “Sentence one: I will not talk about the Lord’s family.

  Sentence two: I will not guess about the Lord’s family.”

  Xin blinked, then her face lit up, and she smiled and pointed as if realizing something. “Specialiating!” she giggled.

  Lu Ying did not correct the word immediately.

  She watched Xin for a breath.

  “Yes,” she said.

  Xin’s smile faltered—confused by the lack of praise.

  “You recognized the difference,” Lu Ying continued evenly.

  “That matters.”

  Xin lowered her hand, attentive now.

  “The word you wanted,” Lu Ying added, “is distinguishing.”

  She let that settle.

  Xin looked like the matron had kicked her beloved pet. “There are too many words.” She admitted.

  “But more important than the word,” she said, “is that you chose behavior, not silence.”

  Xin pressed her lips together, and tears collected at the corners of her eyes, then ran down her face. “Are you making these words?!” The young woman's voice cracked.

  Lu Ying did not move at first.

  She watched the tears fall without flinching.

  “No,” she said quietly.

  The word landed differently than before. Not a stop. A correction.

  “I am not making them up,” Lu Ying continued.

  “I am selecting them.”

  Xin’s breath hitched.

  “There are too many words,” Lu Ying said evenly.

  “That is not your failure. That is the world you walked into.”

  She stepped just slightly closer—not invading space, just narrowing distance enough to be heard.

  “You are not being tested on vocabulary,” she went on.

  “You are being taught which choices keep you safe.”

  Xin wiped at her eyes with the heel of her hand, embarrassed.

  Lu Ying’s voice lowered a fraction.

  “When words multiply,” she said, “ignore them.”

  Xin looked up, startled.

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  “Listen for the rule beneath them,” Lu Ying continued. “Today, the rule was simple.”

  She held up two fingers again.

  “Do not guess. Do not speak upward.”

  She lowered her hand and motioned for her to follow.

  “You followed it,” she said. “That is why we are still walking.”

  A pause.

  “You are allowed to cry,” Lu Ying added, because it mattered.

  “You are not allowed to decide the rules are unreal because they are difficult.”

  Xin wiped her face, then was silent and just walked.

  Finally, Lu Ying asked. “Do you understand?”

  Xin nodded. “Yes.”

  Xin was shown to her room to take a rest before the evening meal.

  Xin moved around the room feeling the Spirit Sense on her, so she did what anyone would do who had no idea they were being watched.

  She discarded her bag in the bathroom in a rush and dropped into position, burping.

  She loitered in the bathroom long enough, making ordinary, ungraceful noises, until the watching presence withdrew.

  When Lu Ying returned later, she found the young woman in bed, asleep in her clothes.

  “Xin, you must eat, it is one of the rules.” Lu Ying said.

  Xin awoke with a start, her eyes popping open as she drew in a sharp breath. “What?!” she seemed confused.

  “It is time to eat, the Young Lord will be in attendance.” Lu Ying stated.

  Xin blinked and mouthed the word. “attendententas?” she murmured.

  Lu Ying did not correct the word.

  She waited until Xin’s breathing slowed and the panic fully cleared from her eyes.

  “Yes,” she said simply. “Attendance.”

  Xin nodded once, then sat up too quickly, tangled in her sleeves. “I— I slept too long.”

  “You slept enough,” Lu Ying replied. “That is acceptable.”

  Xin blinked at that, clearly unsure whether it was permission or a warning.

  Lu Ying turned and gestured toward the washroom.

  “Your face. Your hands. Then we go.”

  Xin moved to the bathroom, washed her hands, splashed her face, and came back blinking, waving her hands to dry.

  Lu Ying stopped her with a slight motion.

  “Slow,” she said.

  Xin froze mid-step.

  “You are not late,” Lu Ying continued.

  “You do not rush unless told to rush.”

  Xin lowered her hands immediately. “Yes, Matron.”

  Lu Ying reached out and took a corner of Xin’s sleeve, smoothing it once, efficiently, impersonally.

  “Dry them properly,” she added. “Water leaves marks.”

  Xin shook her head, confused. “Matron?”

  Lu Ying did not withdraw her hand.

  “Marks,” she repeated, seeing the confusion.

  “On cloth.”

  Xin blinked, then looked down at her sleeve, where faint darkened patches were already blooming.

  “Oh uh, okay,” she said softly.

  “In a village house,” Lu Ying continued, tone neutral, factual,

  “No one looks closely enough to care.”

  She released the fabric.

  “In this house,” she said, “they will.”

  Xing bit her lip and nodded. “Got it.” She agreed.

  Xin nodded slowly, absorbing that distinction without comment.

  Lu Ying watched her a moment longer, then added—not unkindly:

  “You do not need to be perfect. You need to be unremarkable.”

  “Yes.” Xing nodded.

  When they entered the dining hall, the smell of food was already filling the room. Wukai was seated at the head of the table.

  Lu Ying guided her to a stool. She took a seat and waited while the matron took a standing position in front of her.

  She watched as food was brought out and served to Wukai, and wine was poured as servants moved around in an intricate dance.

  After half an hour, Ying noticed that Xing had completely disengaged her eyes, blank as the Young Lord enjoyed the meal.

  When it was over, he rose, and everyone else did as well, including Xin.

  Without flourish, the man left.

  “Now we can eat.” Said Lu Ying.

  “I’m good,” Xin said, disinterested. “Can I go back to bed now?” she asked.

  “Then you will eat later, under instruction.” Lu Ying said.

  Xin looked at her. “Do you people not sleep?” she asked, looking out the window to the darkness of night.

  “You do not ask questions upward when you are tired.”

  A beat.

  “You asked to sleep. You will sleep.”

  She turned slightly, signaling that the interaction was over.

  “Come.”

  That’s it.

  No explanation.

  No rebuke.

  No philosophy.

  “Okay then,” Xin murmured, completely unclear what was happening, or if it was all just an elaborate dance.

  When they got to her door, Xin raised her hand and waited.

  “Yes?” Lu Ying asked.

  “Can we sleep without clothes?” Xin asked.

  Lu Ying didn’t react.

  No pause. No glance away. No shift in posture.

  “Yes,” she said evenly.

  “In your room.”

  She watched Xin long enough to ensure the answer landed as permission, not invitation.

  “You sleep alone,” she added.

  “You answer the door dressed.”

  “You do not leave your room undressed.”

  A beat.

  “If that changes,” Lu Ying continued, already turning the key, “you will be told.”

  The door opened.

  “That is all,” she said.

  And then she stepped back, the corridor already reclaiming her attention.

  Xin nodded. While inside, Jianrong had so many questions. The first being…at what point did they start walking around undressed, and why?

  Xin put out the lamps that burned oil.

  She thought that was interesting; this was her first time seeing this style. Ironwood had candles or torches; Seldara had magical lighting in the Palace and its streets.

  The Spirit Sense was on her right until she removed all her clothes, began inspecting her body, and went to clean up.

  In the darkness, Xin got filed away.

  The cultivation she was holding tightly was released so that she didn’t feel like she was drowning in Qi.

  Energy Eater snapped out to absorb indirect scanning.

  Jianrong replaced her cultivator clothes, which the Matrons had helped her get, with dark laborer clothes she usually wore in the village.

  Simple, rugged, but a rough fabric.

  The only difference from being Solomon was that she now had to wear soft undergarments to protect her sensitivity.

  The large backpack, which looked as if it held all her belongings, held only old clothes, with fabric wrapped around her bound tactical vest and her knife.

  She took out a black hood, bound up her hair, and slipped it over her head.

  No reason to show her face if it was not needed.

  She moved to the spot she had scanned earlier, let Energy Eater go, and poured Qi into the floor. A hole opened slowly, and she jumped down into it.

  The hole slowly closed.

  Half an incense stick later, a cursory scan washed over the room.

  Then it returned, but this time searching.

  Something happened, and several senses fell into the room.

  Not long after, Lu Ying burst through the door and sent out her Spirit Sense while physically searching.

  Nothing, only some folded apricot robes that had seen better days.

  “In that moment, Lu Ying understood something was wrong.

  Either the girl had been taken by something that ignored wards and walls—

  Or Xin had never been what she was catalogued as.”

  She backed up, retracing her steps, and locked the door.

  With an urgent internal message sent upward, she began organizing a search of the grounds.

  Wakai’s residence was only one hundred and fifty meters from the Patriarchs.

  Their team had to be alerted.

  The entire inner court went into lockdown to find the girl.

  Wukai was already awake.

  He hadn’t summoned anyone.

  He hadn’t needed to.

  The change in the household’s rhythm reached him the way pressure changes reach bone—subtle, unmistakable.

  Lu Ying entered and knelt.

  “Report,” he said.

  “She is gone,” Lu Ying replied. No embellishment. No apology. “No alarm triggered. No trace through the door. No scent trail beyond the room. Clothing was left behind.”

  Wukai did not react.

  “Time?” he asked.

  “Within half an incense stick of dismissal.”

  A pause.

  “Assessment?”

  Lu Ying’s jaw tightened—not fear, not shame. Precision.

  “Either I misclassified her, or someone has struck without obvious signs, Young Lord.” She stated.

  That, finally, made Wukai exhale.

  Not sharply. Not angrily.

  Interested.

  He rose and walked to the window, hands behind his back, looking out over the estate grounds that had not changed at all.

  “She asked to sleep without clothes,” he said.

  Lu Ying stilled. “Yes.”

  “She waited for permission.”

  “Yes.”

  “She did not resist. She did not test. She did not escalate.”

  “No.”

  Wukai nodded once.

  “I will notify my father directly, take the Security Elder who is likely on his way here now to her room, and make everyone available who has interacted with her comply with his demands.

  Jianrong had found herself in a natural cave that showed signs of human care.

  The floor had been levelled, and gaps widened to be doorways.

  Energy Eater distorted the air as she moved in silence.

  She needed to find either a route upward or a way forward.

  A light, steady tug from Ling told her where Na was, who was now also her worshiper of Ling.

  Rong was not sure how long she had been moving, but when she felt the fresh air, she stilled.

  She heard voices, screams, and crying.

  She moved with urgency and found herself in what was likely an underground training area, massive and sprawling.

  The Forge

  Her mother had described it as hell. Looking around at the people toiling late at night under torchlight made her a believer.

  She watched as children no older than ten fought with training swords.

  Others were doing physical training.

  All of them were thin and ragged.

  “Fucking amateurs,” Rong thought. They were breaking their bodies before they even developed. No wonder her clan was so weak.

  A sudden and violent tug towards a building that was cut into the rock made her turn.

  “Hoh,” Rong breathed as she knew what tugs like that meant.

  The ground compressed as her body launched across the distance in a dark blur.

  There were no doors or windows, just gaping openings, since it was underground.

  She found the stairs and vaulted up them five at a time, noticing there were no handrails, no protection from falling.

  “Pathetic,” she growled.

  On the third floor, she found her target.

  It seemed to be a detention area. People were wearing manacles on their arms and legs.

  The steady sound of flesh on flesh guided her.

  The room had a single candle that barely put out any light. But she could see a Bloodforge Elder's token catching the light, with someone under him sobbing as the older man's action forced a painful grunt from their mouth.

  Rong glanced around and noticed several people were lying on the floor, limp.

  Not dead but broken emotionally.

  A deep part of her wanted to help them, take them away. But then she remembered she was one person who could not solve the world's problems.

  But.

  Elder Lin did not like this task.

  But each Elder was expected to do it.

  Refusal meant demotion—or replacement. And everyone knew what "replacement" meant.

  These were underperformers.

  The clan's bottom rung.

  Either they improved, or they became examples.

  Either they climbed, or they were climbed over.

  His body moved mechanically now.

  He'd stopped feeling years ago.

  That was its own kind of mercy.

  His pulse pounded as his body slowly overpowered his willpower.

  “All of you will redouble your efforts, or we will do this every day until you come of age to serve the clan.” He guided them with doctrine before he lost the ability to speak as he felt his body reach its limit.

  Lin’s body froze as a wave of chemical euphoria passed through him against his will.

  “Gods dammit,” he cursed, disgusted with himself as his back curved, morality and ethics fell away to raw need.

  Then he gave a shout of release, the same way he always did after telling himself this was necessary.

  “You are always free to leave,” Lin murmured, letting his body linger, enjoying the closeness to another person, even if that meant in a situation that would be considered cruel outside the cultivation world.

  Heaven endorsed it….he needed no other proof.

  Yet he knew they stayed the same reason he had stayed: safety, food, comrades.

  On some level, he told himself they liked it, liked him, because he didn’t want these moments of comfort to lose their luster.

  A moment later, his vision exploded with light as a fist smashed into his head so hard he felt his skull and jaw fracture as he was sent off the bed into the nearby wall that caught him unceremoniously.

  Lin had fluid coming out of his nose that was not blood, and struggled to move.

  Rong moved to the victim, a young man who stared at her dark form in horror.

  She placed her thumb to the boy's brow and pulsed Qi, putting him to sleep.

  She took a moment to check his body and found several serious injuries.

  She let her Qi flow and healed his flesh. Then she moved to the others and checked them, finding serious injuries on all of them.

  She treated them, then considered her next steps.

  Several holes in the stone opened, and large spiders began to swarm in.

  Jianrong looked around, then chose one to speak to, putting her fists on her hips and looking down at them. “And who might you be, hm?” she asked the dog-sized spiders with golden eyes, sweetly, as if they were small children.

  “Little one, who do you think it is?” Ling's voice touched her mind.

  Rong blinked, then laughed and scooped up a spider who did not fight her. “You can multiply?! How come I cannot see you more often than?!” she complained.

  The spider morphed into her human form and was again scooped up by Rong, who kissed her.

  “Child, it's not easy. I just came for the prize,” Ling said while smiling, pulling her lover closer.

  Rong glanced at the elder. “You want me to heal him? He will probably die soon.” She admitted.

  Ling looked away demurely. “You don’t mind?” she asked.

  Rong snorted, then stole a kiss. “Don’t you see my thoughts?”

  Ling curled over her back as Rong lowered to heal the man who had begun to struggle inside the cocoon the spiders had placed him in.

  “I don’t always look.” Ling teased.

  Rong glanced back, then smiled, “You know we should refine one of these guys sometime, see if he tastes better for you…Does Rou eat people, too?

  Rong asked, sometimes forgetting that her partner was a Fox, not a human.

  Ling nodded, “She likes men, foundation establishment, and higher.”

  Jianrong blinked, then looked down, then back to her lover.

  Ling rested her head against Rongs. “You caught me, he is a present.” She confessed.

  Rong smiled. “That is sweet!” She laughed and continued to heal the man, who was now fighting hard to escape the goddess's threads.

  Soon, Lin, warm and healthy, disappeared into a hole dragged by spiders, but not before Rong touched each one.

  Some were petted, others held, and some kissed.

  “They are me,” Ling reiterated.

  “If there were four of me, would you send four clones to love them?” Rong asked, brushing off the god's tone.

  Ling gave her silence.

  Rong snorted and kissed her as she moved to the hole. “If I split in two, I already know you would mark us both.” Rong laughed; Ling did not deny it.

  “I am hearing you will love me if there is more than one,” Ling said slyly.

  Rong smiled and almost nodded, then caught her look and paled.

  “No,no,no!” Rong was begging when the clone was yanked into the hole by a silk thread.

  The hole closed, and darkness enveloped her as the candle extinguished.

  “There is someone down here you have been looking for.” Ling's voice came quietly to her mind.

  “You cannot kill him, though.” She warned.

  Rong felt a pulse and realized who it must be. She closed her eyes and debated on what to do.

  “Some other time, let's save Na and her kids,” Rong stated

  “I thought you might say that.” Ling's voice was soft in her mind. Rong put her hand and head to the stone wall, never wanting it to stop.

  “Child, you don’t know how much this means to me, to us. Be careful, they are moving through everyone who came in contact with you…it won't be long until they reach the source. They are not weak nor are they few in number.” Ling's voice curled around her mind like smoke she desperately wanted to breathe in.

  Rong lowered herself to her knees and faced eastward.

  She prayed to her father to witness her actions. She prayed to the Mother for her bounty and care, then she prayed to Rou for the strength she had granted her.

  “Bloodforge respects strength; let me show them strength.” She murmured as she placed her hand on the stone floor.

  The stone fractured, then compressed as her will filled it, infused it, and demanded of it.

  The Cloud head sabre was grey, but gold flowed through it.

  Rong’s eyes fell onto it. “Is that it, all this innocent blood that has soaked into you, that is all the weight you got?” she chided, disappointed as if it were a living thing.

  More stone flowed into it until she smiled and nodded, lifting it, feeling its weight as she continued to align its molecules, and Qi created a lattice between them.

  The head was heavy, with a tip that bore a lazy, fat cloud etched into it.

  Rong nodded as her arm moved, making the blade cut air.

  “Good.” She murmured as she sniffed the air and felt where the exit was.

  A moment later, she was gone through the window.