By decree of General Li, the boy named Shen was no longer a nameless servant.
He was now a Disciple of the Iron General.
And in the eyes of the military class, that was no small thing.
Whispers flooded the palace by midday.
"A servant?""No, I heard he's from a hidden war clan.""The general never takes disciples. Not even nobles.""Maybe he's illegitimate… a bastard from the border?""They say the Empress looked pale when she heard the news."
The Crown Prince, Li Ren, remained silent — but his fingers cracked the handle of his fan during court.
"First the spar. Then the banquet. Now my uncle elevates him?"
In private, he summoned his personal guard captain.
"Watch him," he said. "I want to know everything. If he sneezes in the wrong direction, I want it reported."
Meanwhile, Shen stood beneath the military banner of House Li for the first time.
Dressed in gray officer robes, sword at his hip, his posture straight — he looked like a commander already.
General Li addressed the young trainees.
"This is Shen," he said. "He will be joining you as my disciple. His rank is his own. If you want it—" he looked directly at the other sons of nobility "—you'll have to earn it."
There were no cheers.
Only narrowed eyes and tight jaws.
But Shen didn't care.
He hadn't come to be liked.
He came to rise.
That night, he trained alone in the Rain-Facing Courtyard.
Barefoot. Shirtless. Sword in hand.
Silent Meridian Flow.Faster. Deeper.Under the moon, his body pulsed with energy that didn't belong to any known technique.
The bronze medallion from the general lay nearby, catching moonlight.
Suddenly — his body froze.
A faint hum vibrated from the medallion.
He touched it.
His vision blurred.
He was back.
Snow. Fire. Screams.
A man — the same man from before — running through a collapsing palace with twin infants in his arms.
The Vanished Prince.
He looked back. Behind him, a man in golden robes stood watching the destruction. Smiling.
The Emperor.
Shen jolted awake.
Sweat covered his chest.
He looked at the medallion.
"This… this isn't just a keepsake. It's a key."
The next day, Shen stood before the imperial review.
A sparring session between rising officers — where nobles showcased talent before high command.
Li Ren stood among the observers, arms crossed.
Shen's opponent was a noble's son — smug, flashy, arrogant.
They exchanged bows.
The noble lunged first — spinning blade, thunder-step footwork.
He didn't even finish the first strike.
Shen slipped behind him, pressed the wooden sword to his neck, and said softly:
"Too loud."
Match over.
The crowd went silent.
Even the Emperor, watching from the tower, lowered his cup slightly.
"Who taught him to move like that?" he muttered.
The general simply said, "No one."