Every morning before dawn, Yinmo rose among the dew-drenched fields of medicinal herbs, tending to his duties as a herb gatherer. Forced into this humble role since the testing day branded him as talentless, he moved silently through the sprawling gardens and rugged forest edges surrounding the clan's territory. Each day merged into the next—a monotonous routine of plucking leaves, stirring the soil, and quietly absorbing nature's secrets. Yet beneath this unchanging routine, a storm of inner torment and forbidden potential churned.
After a long day amid the fragrant herbs, Yinmo trudged back to the dilapidated servants' quarters where he now dwelled—a far cry from the grandeur of the main halls. Even here, beneath a low, creaking roof, whispers and mocking laughter tainted the air. His fellow servants repeatedly sneered about the "Second Young Master." "Look at him, slinking around like a common laborer," they jeered in hushed gossip. Every word stung, reinforcing the painful truth: to them, Yinmo was nothing more than an insignificant cog in the clan's machinery.
That evening, as twilight deepened into night, Yinmo entered his modest room to discover a folded booklet resting on a battered wooden table. It was the cultivation book that Shuiyun had delivered for him earlier—a small but radiant beacon of hope in a life defined by degradation. Gently, he unfolded its delicate pages. Each graceful stroke of calligraphy detailed ancient techniques and hidden lore that could—if learned—ignite the spark of his awakening. Yet, even this token of guidance only underscored the gulf between his hidden potential and the disdain with which he was treated.
As days passed and Yinmo diligently carried out his herb-gathering tasks, his thoughts were constantly drawn to that precious booklet. In every quiet moment, he pored over its cryptic symbols, dreaming of escaping the shackles of his lowly existence. But darkness also loomed in the corridors. The gossip of the servants increasingly turned venomous when the latest scandal emerged—a scandal that cut deeper than their jeering laughter.
Rumors now circulated that Big Brother Lei, the imperious and brazen master of the clan, had set his eyes on the twin sisters. Rather than preserving their futures, Lei Xuan was openly maneuvering to force both of them into serving him as concubines. The twins—Mingzhu, with her solid wood affinity and poised maturity, and Shuiyun, the sensitive one with eyes that glimmered like tears—were now being treated as luxury commodities, their beauty and cultivation aptitude exploited for Lei Xuan's selfish gains. To the servants, the spectacle was loathsome: two "heaven-defying beauties" destined to be pawns in Lei Xuan's power plays, stripped of their honor and reduced to mere objects.
The whispers that reached Yinmo's ears in the servants' quarters were laced with scorn and morbid curiosity. Though he had always felt isolated by his own failures, nothing hurt more than to learn that those he once silently hoped might be allies had turned their backs. The betrayal stung deeply—each furtive remark about the twins' "sale" to Lei Xuan not only underlined his own insignificance but also revealed that even those with genuine talent could be so easily corrupted by the clan's ruthless ambitions.
One chilly evening, after a particularly grueling day in the fields, Yinmo slumped into a corner by his narrow window. His mind swirled with memories of sneering laughter and the bitter taste of betrayal. He recalled the teasing voices that had mocked him, the hushed comments about his supposed "talentlessness," and, worst of all, the secret that the twins—the very figures he'd once regarded with uncertain hope—had sided with the vice of power. How could they, whose hearts he thought might understand his own struggle, willingly abdicate their honor by allying with Big Brother Lei?
With a heavy heart, Yinmo opened the cultivation booklet once more. In those ancient verses, he found both solace and a promise—a promise that even in the darkest of circumstances there lay a hidden strength, a spark that could be nurtured into something transformative. As he traced his finger along the intricate symbols, a cold resolve began to kindle within him. Though he might be forced to toil among herbs and endure the scorn of those around him, the seeds of secret power had been planted deep in his soul. He would harness that power, despite the bitter betrayal and relentless mockery.
In the quiet darkness of his lowly room, Yinmo closed the booklet with a determined exhale. The relentless gossip of the servants, the callous betrayal by the twins, and the degrading advances of Lei Xuan—all these injuries would not break him. Instead, they would fuel his resolve to cultivate in secret until the day came when he could transform the whispers of betrayal into a force powerful enough to reshape his destiny.