Xue Xiaoqing

"Your son is quite impressive," Hou Ran said, his voice carrying across the ceremony grounds with a weight that silenced the crowd. He looked at Gong Weiyuan with a faint smile, the kind of smile that was reserved for those who had earned his approval. "He would make a fine general for my eldest in the future."

The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. The crowd gasped, a collective intake of breath that rippled through the gathered masses like a wave. Gong Mingli, standing beside Hou Ran, bowed deeply, his face glowing with pride. "Thank you, Patriarch, for such high praise," he said, his voice trembling with barely contained excitement. He turned to look at his son, his expression filled with a warmth and pride that made something inside me twist painfully.

Gong Weiyuan, still standing on the stage, beamed under the attention. His chest puffed out, and his eyes gleamed with triumph. He glanced in my direction, his smirk widening, and for a moment, our eyes met. There was no mistaking the disdain in his gaze, the smug satisfaction that radiated from him like a physical force. He had won. He had always won. And now, with Hou Ran's words, he had been handed a future that most could only dream of.

The position of general was one of the highest in the Red River Clan, second only to the patriarch himself. Even my uncles, the brothers of Hou Ran, would have to bow to the clan's general. It was a position of power, of respect, and Gong Weiyuan had just been promised it in front of the entire city. The crowd buzzed with excitement, their whispers growing louder as they processed the implications of Hou Ran's words.

Gong Weiyuan stepped down from the stage, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he were savoring every moment. He didn't need to stay any longer. His part in the ceremony was over, and he had already claimed his victory. As he walked through the crowd, people parted before him, their eyes filled with a mixture of awe and envy. He didn't look back, but I could feel his disdain, his hatred, as if it were a tangible thing pressing down on me.

'I will teach you a lesson for the humiliation you've brought me today,' his expression seemed to say. 'You're nothing, and you always will be.'

The crowd's attention shifted to me, their gazes heavy with pity, curiosity, and disdain. It was clear that Gong Weiyuan had made me his target, and even my own father had done nothing to stop it. This was more than a personal slight; it was a public humiliation, a declaration that I was no longer worthy of the Red River Clan's name. I could feel their eyes on me, their whispers cutting through the air like knives.

"Look at him. Even his own father doesn't care."

"Pathetic. He's nothing but a failure."

"No wonder Gong Weiyuan was called first. What's the point of wasting time on someone without a spirit root?"

The words stung, but I didn't let it show. I stood there, my back straight, my face impassive, and endured. I had no choice.

"Next is Xue Xiaoqing," Gong Mingli called out, his voice booming across the ceremony grounds like the tolling of a funeral bell.

The announcement sent another ripple of shock through the crowd, a wave of murmurs and whispers that spread like wildfire.

Not calling me first had already been a slap to my face, a blatant disregard for tradition and a public declaration of my worthlessness. But now, calling someone else second? It was a deliberate insult, a calculated move to humiliate me further, to strip me of whatever shred of dignity I had left.

The crowd's laughter reverberated through the air, sharp and mocking, but I ignored them. By now, I was used to their mockery, their disdain. It no longer cut as deeply as it once had. Or at least, that's what I told myself.

Staying calm—or at least pretending to—I turned my attention to the next participant. She was a young woman of eighteen, her presence commanding the attention of everyone in the crowd. Dressed in a flowing white dress that seemed to shimmer like moonlight, she moved with a grace that was almost otherworldly.

Her hair, dark as midnight, was tied into two ponytails that swayed gently with each step, and her features were delicate, perfectly symmetrical, as if carved by the hands of a divine artist. She was beautiful, there was no denying that, and the crowd's reaction made it clear.

Whispers of admiration followed her as she stepped onto the stage, her movements fluid and confident, like a dancer gliding across a stage.

I recognized her instantly. Xue Xiaoqing, the daughter of the clan's finance master. She was not only known for her beauty but also for her engagement to Hou Bai, the third son of my father and one of the brothers who had beaten me yesterday. The crowd's admiration for her was palpable, their voices rising in a chorus of praise that bordered on reverence.

"Such beauty! She's like a fairy descended from the heavens!"

"No wonder Hou Bai is engaged to her. They're a perfect match."

"Look at her grace. She's destined for greatness."

The words washed over me, but I felt nothing. No envy, no admiration, not even resentment.

My mind was elsewhere, consumed by my own thoughts, my own struggles. I didn't care about Xue Xiaoqing's beauty or her engagement to Hou Bai. I didn't care about the crowd's adoration or their whispered comparisons.

All I cared about was getting out of this place, this city, this life that had become a prison. A cage built of humiliation, disdain, and the crushing weight of expectations I could never meet.

As Xue Xiaoqing placed her hand on the Spirit Awakening Stone, a surge of energy rippled through the air, so potent it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

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, crimson scythe. Its blade glowed with an eerie, blood-red light, and its handle was wrapped in shadows that seemed to writhe and twist like living things.

The air around it grew heavy, oppressive, as if the scythe itself was drawing the life from the surroundings. The crowd fell silent, their cheers dying in their throats as they stared at the weapon in awe and fear.

"A Crimson Reaper's Scythe!" someone shouted, their voice trembling with a mixture of excitement and dread. "A rare and deadly spirit! Xue Xiaoqing is truly formidable!"

The words were like a distant echo, barely registering in my mind. I stood there, silent and unmoving, my fists clenched at my sides so tightly that my nails dug into my palms. The crowd's reaction, their awe, their fear—it all felt like a world apart, a world I no longer belonged to. My thoughts were consumed by one thing: the Desert Eagle. The strange, otherworldly weapon that had appeared in my room, the glowing menu that had promised power beyond my understanding. It was my only hope, my only chance to escape this life of humiliation and despair.

As Xue Xiaoqing stepped down from the stage, her face glowing with pride, the crowd's attention shifted back to the ceremony.

But before the next name could be called, Hou Ran, my father, stepped forward. His presence was like a storm cloud, dark and unyielding, and his voice carried a weight that silenced the crowd instantly.

"Xue Xiaoqing," he said, his tone measured but filled with unmistakable approval. "A Crimson Reaper's Scythe is a spirit of immense power and rarity. It is a testament to your strength and potential. You have brought great honor to your family and to the Red River Clan. I have no doubt that you will become a force to be reckoned with in the years to come."

The crowd erupted into murmurs of agreement, their voices filled with admiration and envy. Xue Xiaoqing bowed deeply, her face flushed with pride. "Thank you, Patriarch Hou Ran," she said, her voice soft but steady. "I will strive to live up to your expectations."

Before she could step away, Gong Weiyuan, who had been standing at the edge of the stage, stepped forward. His face was alight with admiration, and his voice was filled with a warmth that made my stomach churn. "Xue Xiaoqing," he said, his tone almost reverent. "Your spirit is as breathtaking as your beauty. The Crimson Reaper's Scythe suits you perfectly. I have no doubt that you will achieve greatness, and I am honored to witness your awakening."

Xue Xiaoqing smiled at him, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "Thank you, Gong Weiyuan," she said, her voice carrying a hint of shyness. "Your words mean a great deal to me."

The exchange was like a dagger in my chest, a reminder of everything I lacked. Gong Weiyuan, the son of the clan's general, and Xue Xiaoqing, the daughter of the finance master, were the golden children of the Red River Clan. They were everything I was not—talented, admired, destined for greatness. And I? I was nothing. A failure. A stain on the clan's legacy.