The moon hung like a silver sickle over the silent roofs of Tan Wu City, casting long, spectral shadows across the Huo Clan's guest courtyard.
Inside the lavishly appointed suite, Shen Haoran stood by the open window, the cool night breeze fluttering his silk inner robes.
In his hand, he swirled a translucent glass of deep crimson wine, the liquid catching the moonlight like a pool of fresh blood.
The silence was broken by the faintest ripple in the air, and without a sound, Qing'er materialized from the shadows behind him, her knee hitting the floor in a practiced, graceful salute.
"Young Master," she whispered, her head bowed in reverence.
Haoran didn't turn around. He took a slow, methodical sip of the wine, savoring the tart, metallic undertone. "Report. Have you set the chess pieces as I commanded?"
"I have," Qing'er replied, her voice devoid of emotion. "Shadow guards have been stationed within Tan Wu City to monitor the 'Sect Master' Lin Feng. His every movement, every meal, and every breath will be recorded. As for the boy, Ye Bao... I have made initial contact. As you suspected, he was destitute and desperate. I have extended an invitation for him to join the initial ranks of the organization. He accepted without hesitation, believing it to be his fated opportunity."
Haoran hummed, a sound of low, vibrating satisfaction. "Good. A Saint-grade physique is a rare tool. It would be a waste to let it rot in a gutter or be snatched up by a 'system' user with delusions of grandeur."
He turned away from the window, his eyes reflecting the dark, cold vacuum of space.
The organization Qinq'er spoke of is something he had thought of. It doesn't belong to his clan or his mother, but answer only to him.
This organisation is not a sect, nor was it a simple spy network, but something he created with the purpose of dealing with the 'anomalies'.
Trashy young masters who suddenly possessed the wisdom of ancestors; peasants with severed meridians who suddenly found becoming a genius; lucky fools who survived falls from ten-thousand-foot cliffs only to find secret scriptures, and many more.
In other words, 'Protagonist'.
He decided to name this newly founded organisation, calling it the "Anomalous Research and Containment Foundation", or ARC Foundation for short.
In Haoran's eyes, these anomalies, or protagonists, were parasites, blessed by the heavens to supress those It deemed dangerous and threatened its rule.
After all, most 'villains' in novels were becoming too powerful and dangerous, some even having thoughts to completely defy the heavens just to reach a higher rank.
And the anomalies are likely the Heavens way to maintain its current order.
For him and his clan, they were chaotic variables that threatened the new order they intended to rule.
The ARC Foundation's purpose was simple: Identify these templates, Research the source of their "luck" or "systems," and Contain them before they could grow into threats.
To do this, he needed a force that understood the nature of the enemy.
He would recruit the "villains" who had been destined to be stepping stones and the "lesser protagonists" who had been overshadowed.
He would turn the world's anomalies against each other.
"Young Master..." Qing'er spoke up, her tone wavering with a hint of hesitation.
"Speak," Haoran commanded, swirling his wine once more.
"The royal family of this territory, the Cao Yin Kingdom, has become aware of the Profound Ark's presence. The King has sent an urgent missive through the City Lord. They humbly request your presence as an honored guest to preside over this year's Regional Youth Combat Tournament."
Haoran let out a soft, dry chuckle that held no humor. "A tournament? In this backwater? Qing'er, do they truly expect me to sit through a display of children swinging wooden sticks at one another?"
He felt a wave of profound boredom just imagining that scene. Someone like him who has been around Saints and Supremes since he was a child, what is there to see in this place?
Tan Wu City and the Cao Yin Kingdom were at the very edge of civilization, and the "geniuses" here likely considered the Foundation Establishment realm to be the pinnacle of youth achievement.
But in his eyes, they weren't even qualified to be a trash collector. And that's not an exaggeration!
Trash that any members of Shen Clan would throw away is a treasure that this kingdom would probably regard as a national treasure.
He remembered back in the day, a chain he had made for his 'puppy' was broken, so he asked a servant to throw it away.
But that servant actually melted it down and turned it into an Artifact Chainmail, and handed it to his clan to be its family heirloom.
Haoran was amused by this and decided to not punish that servant.
Besides, in the Imperial Capital, not just the children of the Shen Clan, but even ordinary citizens have reached that level before they were even permitted to handle real weapons.
To him, watching these local "talents" fight was like watching ants argue over a grain of sand.
"What is there to see?" he muttered, looking back at the moon. "Their techniques are flawed, their foundations are shaky, and their 'killing intent' is as threatening as a summer breeze."
Just then, he remembered his childhood in the Shen Clan's sprawling estate.
When he was bored, he used to toss a handful of spirit coins into the servant quarters and watch the children of the laborers tackle and grapple with each other in the dirt.
It had been a crude, amusing way to kill an afternoon, watching them roll in the mud, gasping for air, driven by a desperate greed they couldn't hide.
A cold, amused glint entered his eyes.
"On second thought," Haoran said, his lips curling into a predatory smile. "Watching children fight is indeed a tedious affair... but watching them struggle with the delusion that they are the 'center of the world' can be quite entertaining. And where there is a tournament of 'geniuses,' there is usually a 'protagonist' waiting to make a name for himself by defeating someone he shouldn't be able to."
He drained the rest of the wine in a single gulp and set the glass on the windowsill.
"The ARC Foundation needs more data. A tournament is the perfect petri dish to see which 'anomalies' crawl out of the woodwork when the spotlight is on. If a hidden dragon decides to show its claws, I want to be there to clip them."
He looked at Qing'er, his voice turning decisive. "Inform the City Lord. We shall depart for the capital of Cao Yin tomorrow morning. Tell the Huo Clan that I am leaving, but make sure the elders understand one thing clearly: if a single hair on Huo Yue's head is harmed while I am away, I will turn their ancestral hall into a slaughterhouse."
"Understood, Young Master," Qing'er replied, her form already beginning to fade into the shadows.
Haoran stood alone in the moonlight, his mind drifting to the girl in the room across the courtyard.
Huo Yue was currently his most successful "containment" and "research" project. She was his fated Empress, and he was curious to see how she would grow in the vacuum his departure would create.
He didn't need to stay to watch her cultivate. He knew that the fire he had fanned in her heart would either forge her into a god or burn her to ash.
Both outcomes were acceptable, so long as he was the one who held the leash.
"The Regional Youth Tournament..." he whispered to the empty room. "Let's see if this 'desolate region' has any more surprises for me."
As the first light of dawn began to grey the horizon, the massive Profound Ark moored above the city began to hum with a low-frequency power, its ancient formations glowing with a cold, blue light.
The "Young Master from the Heavens" was moving on, and with him, the gears of a new, darker fate for the Tian Yuan Empire began to turn.