He disliked the Upper Realm's skies.
Too clean. Too vast. Too honest.
That was why he preferred the Lower Realm—where clouds hid intent, where mountains obscured truth, and where people still believed outcomes were the result of effort rather than selection.
The man stood on a quiet ridge overlooking a valley that no longer existed.
Below him lay the remnants of a minor sect—buildings intact, formations dormant, spiritual veins untouched. Nothing had been burned. Nothing had been shattered.
It was as if the sect had simply… stepped out of reality.
He found that elegant.
"Status," he said calmly.
Behind him, a subordinate knelt, head lowered. "Phase One completed. No resistance. No witnesses of consequence."
"Casualties?"
"Minimal. Acceptable."
The man nodded. He had expected nothing else.
He was not here to kill.
He was here to redirect.
He was known by many names, none of them real.
To the Upper Realm, he was a logistics executor—a useful title that suggested paperwork and coordination rather than quiet annihilation. To certain hidden sects, he was a long-term stabilizer. To those who had disappeared without explanation, he was something closer to a ghost.
He preferred none of them.
Names invited attachment.
Attachment invited attention.
And attention was… inefficient.
He unfurled a jade slip, its surface glowing faintly with layered seals—each one representing a filtered stream of information from above.
Most were routine.
Resource flows. Sect alignments. Cultivation density fluctuations.
Then there was the anomaly file.
He paused on it longer than the others.
Lower Realm Variable – Li Chen
Classification: Deferred
Status: Unresolved
Recommendation: Observe. Avoid Direct Engagement.
The man smiled faintly.
"Deferred," he murmured. "That means no one wants responsibility."
That suited him perfectly.
He had reviewed Li Chen's record carefully.
Not because Li Chen was powerful.
Not because his cultivation was abnormal.
But because his behavior was.
Li Chen did not seek advantage. Did not exploit opportunities. Did not challenge authority.
And yet—
He survived everything.
"That's the dangerous type," the man said softly.
The subordinate hesitated. "Should we… eliminate the variable?"
The man shook his head immediately.
"No. Elimination draws audits. Audits draw oversight."
He rolled the jade slip between his fingers. "Besides, variables like him don't need to be removed. They need to be cornered."
He turned his gaze toward another set of documents.
Associated Individuals:
Xu Ming – Chaos Physique (Lower Realm Misclassification)
Mo Yun – Leadership Vector
Shen Yue – Stability Anchor
Sect: Medium Priority
The man's smile faded.
"This sect is producing cohesion," he said quietly. "That's inefficient."
The subordinate frowned slightly. "Should we intervene?"
"We already are."
The subordinate stiffened. "How?"
The man gestured vaguely toward the horizon.
"By creating problems they cannot solve without choosing sides."
He did not intend to confront Li Chen.
That would be foolish.
No—he would let Li Chen confront circumstances.
Minor sects would collapse. Trade routes would destabilize. Cultivation resources would become scarce.
Nothing dramatic.
Nothing obvious.
Just enough pressure that someone would have to act.
And when they did—
Their name would be written into the record.
Permanently.
A flicker of amusement crossed his eyes as he recalled one particular report.
"Subject Li Chen reinforced a minor courtyard formation six times due to wind variance."
He chuckled quietly.
"Excessively cautious," he said. "Good."
He liked cautious people.
They were predictable—up to the point they weren't.
The subordinate shifted. "There is one concern."
The man raised an eyebrow.
"The Chaos Physique," the subordinate said carefully. "If properly cultivated—"
"It won't be," the man interrupted calmly.
The subordinate blinked.
"The Lower Realm doesn't know how," the man continued. "And the Upper Realm doesn't care enough to teach them. That boy will struggle. He will suffer. He will grow slowly."
A pause.
"And that will keep Li Chen anchored."
He closed the jade slip.
"Proceed to Phase Two," he said.
"What are the parameters?"
The man considered.
"Indirect conflict. Righteous justification. No visible ties to the Upper Realm."
"And Li Chen?"
The man's smile returned—thin, precise.
"Leave him alone," he said. "For now."
The subordinate hesitated. "If he interferes?"
"Then," the man replied calmly, "we learn something valuable."
As night settled over the empty valley, the man turned away from the erased sect.
He did not feel triumph.
He did not feel cruelty.
Only progress.
Above him, the stars watched in silence—unaware that a quiet hand had begun rearranging their reflections below.
Far away, in a sect that believed itself momentarily uninteresting, Li Chen adjusted a formation one last time before resting.
He paused.
Then frowned slightly.
"…That's odd," he murmured.
Xu Ming, already alert, straightened instantly. "Senior Brother?"
Li Chen stared at the formation for a moment longer.
"…Probably nothing."
Somewhere beyond the mountains, the man who did not look like fate smiled.
The game had begun.
Quietly.