Change of rules

Gong Weiyuan stared at me as I walked away, his mouth slightly open as if he wanted to retort, to hurl another insult or cutting remark. But he didn't. He stayed silent, his jaw tightening as he swallowed whatever words had been on the tip of his tongue. The ceremony was about to begin, and even he knew better than to cause a scene in front of the entire Red Blood City. Still, his eyes burned with resentment, and I could feel his gaze boring into my back as I moved further into the crowd.

The people surrounding us had witnessed the exchange, and though no one dared to laugh openly, I could sense their amusement. Some were laughing at Gong Weiyuan's misfortune, his smug demeanor momentarily shattered by my defiance. Others were laughing at my audacity, the sheer gall of a boy without a spirit root daring to stand up to someone like him. But I didn't care. Let them laugh. Let them whisper. I was done being their punching bag.

Taking a deep breath, I turned my attention to the grand stage at the center of the ceremony grounds. It was an imposing structure, carved from dark stone and adorned with crimson banners that fluttered in the breeze. The air was thick with anticipation, the crowd buzzing with excitement as they waited for the ceremony to begin. And then, as if on cue, a figure appeared in the sky, descending gracefully onto the stage with a presence that commanded attention.

His robes were red as blood, the fabric shimmering with an otherworldly light. His eyebrows were straight and sharp, framing a face that was both stern and regal. There was a seriousness in his eyes, a weight that seemed to press down on everyone in the crowd. This man was no one but my father, Hou Ran, the patriarch of the Red River Clan and the most powerful cultivator in Red Blood City.

For a moment, his gaze swept over the crowd, and his eyes landed on me. It was brief, no more than a flicker, but it was enough. There was no warmth in that look, no pride or affection. Only disdain. He looked at me as if I were a stain on the Red River Clan's legacy, a mistake that should never have been born. And then he looked away, his attention shifting to the rest of the crowd as if I were nothing more than an afterthought.

The sting of his indifference was sharp, but I forced myself to push it down. I was used to it by now. Or at least, I told myself I was.

"Today," my father began, his voice booming across the ceremony grounds, "will be the Spirit Awakening Ceremony for all the young people of this city. And I, Hou Ran, will personally oversee it."

The crowd fell silent, hanging on his every word. Even the wind seemed to still, as if the world itself was listening. My father's presence was overwhelming, his voice carrying a weight that made it impossible to look away.

"This ceremony is extremely important for your future," he continued, his eyes sweeping over the crowd. "Your spirit root is the foundation of your cultivation, but your awakened Spirit will decide the path you take in life. If your Spirit is strong enough, you can achieve greatness. You can rule this land. You can even become someone greater than me."

The words hung in the air, heavy with promise and possibility. For a moment, no one moved. No one breathed. And then, as if breaking free from a spell, the crowd erupted into cheers. The sound was deafening, a wave of excitement and hope that washed over the ceremony grounds. Young men and women clapped and shouted, their eyes shining with dreams of power and glory.

I stood there, silent and unmoving, as the cheers echoed around me. My father's words had stirred something in the crowd, a fire that burned bright in their hearts. But for me, they were just words. Empty words. I had no spirit root. No foundation. And without that, what hope did I have of awakening a Spirit? What hope did I have of achieving anything?

And yet, as I stood there, surrounded by the cheers and laughter of the crowd, I felt something stir inside me. A spark. A flicker of defiance.

"Now, one by one, as Sir Gong Mingli calls your names, you will come onto the stage and have your spirit awakened," my father announced, his voice carrying across the ceremony grounds like a thunderclap. He gestured toward a man standing at the edge of the stage, a figure who seemed almost comically out of place amidst the grandeur of the event. He was fat, his belly straining against the fabric of his ornate robes, and his bald head gleamed under the sunlight. A long, thin mustache framed his mouth, and his nose was thick and bulbous, unmistakably similar to Gong Weiyuan's.

This was Gong Mingli, the army general of the Red River Clan, second only to my father in power and influence. Despite his odd appearance, there was no mistaking the aura of authority that surrounded him. Each step he took was heavy, deliberate, and carried with it the weight of someone at the Spirit Condensation Stage Five. The pressure of his presence was palpable, a subtle reminder of the power he wielded.

Gong Mingli looked out at the crowd, his smile wide and self-satisfied. When his gaze landed on his son, Gong Weiyuan, there was a warmth in his eyes that I had never seen in my own father's. It was a look of pride, of affection, and it made something inside me twist painfully. Gong Weiyuan, standing a few paces away from me, beamed under his father's attention. He glanced in my direction, his smirk returning, but I refused to meet his gaze. I kept my eyes fixed on the stage, my expression blank, though my fists clenched tightly at my sides.

With a snort, Gong Weiyuan turned his head away, his attention shifting back to the stage as his father prepared to begin the ceremony.

"First... Gong Weiyuan," Gong Mingli called out, his voice booming across the grounds.

The moment the name left his lips, a ripple of surprise passed through the crowd. My eyes widened, and a hot surge of anger burned in my chest. This was wrong. This was 'so' wrong. Traditionally, the patriarch's son was always the first to step onto the stage during the Spirit Awakening Ceremony. It was a symbolic gesture, meant to inspire hope and set the tone for the rest of the event. But this time, Gong Mingli had called his own son first. It was a blatant disregard for tradition, a slap in the face to my father and to the Red River Clan itself.

I turned to look at my father, expecting him to react, to intervene, to put Gong Mingli in his place. But he stood there, motionless and emotionless, his face an unreadable mask. He didn't protest. He didn't even flinch. It was as if he had expected this, as if he had agreed to it. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut, and I felt a bitter laugh bubble up inside me.

'Ha...' I thought, the sound echoing hollowly in my mind. 'They even changed the rules for me.'

The crowd's murmurs grew louder, and I could feel their eyes on me, their gazes heavy with shock, pity, and disdain. Some of them whispered to each other, their voices carrying snippets of taunts and insults.

"Look at him. The seventh son, and he's not even first."

"Pathetic. Even his own father doesn't care."

"No wonder they skipped him. What's the point of wasting time on someone without a spirit root?"

The words cut deep, but I didn't let it show. I stood there, my back straight, my face impassive, and endured. I had no choice. This was my reality, my punishment for being born without a spirit root. But as I stood there, surrounded by their judgment and mockery, I felt something stir inside me. A spark of defiance. A flicker of rage.

Gong Weiyuan strutted onto the stage, his chest puffed out with pride. He glanced back at the crowd, his eyes lingering on me for a moment, and then he stepped forward to stand before the Spirit Awakening Stone. The massive, crystalline structure loomed over him, its surface shimmering faintly with an otherworldly light. Gong Mingli placed a hand on his son's shoulder, his smile widening, and then he stepped back to give him space.

The ceremony began.

As Gong Weiyuan placed his hand on the stone, a surge of energy rippled through the air. The stone began to glow, its light growing brighter and brighter until it was almost blinding. A shape began to form above the stone, a swirling mass of energy that slowly took on the form of a massive, snarling wolf. Its eyes glowed with a fierce intelligence, and its fur shimmered like molten silver. The crowd erupted into cheers, their excitement palpable.

"A Silverfang Wolf!" someone shouted. "A high-tier spirit! Gong Weiyuan is truly blessed!"

The words were like a dagger in my chest, but I didn't look away. I watched as Gong Weiyuan basked in the crowd's adoration, his grin widening with every cheer. He turned to look at me again, his eyes gleaming with triumph, and for a moment, I thought he might say something. But he didn't. He didn't need to. His expression said it all.

'You're nothing,' it seemed to say. 'And you always will be.'

I clenched my fists tighter, my nails digging into my palms. The anger inside me burned hotter, brighter, but I forced it down. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing me break. Not again.

As Gong Weiyuan stepped down from the stage, the crowd still buzzing with excitement, I took a deep breath and steadied myself. The ceremony was far from over, and I knew my turn would come eventually. When it did, I would step onto that stage with my head held high. I would face the Spirit Awakening Stone, even if it remained dull and lifeless under my touch. And I would endure.

Because I had no other choice.