Framed

While Lu Heng was still giving instructions, the atmosphere in the mine had shifted. Despite the students' excitement over the generous rewards promised, unease lingered beneath the surface. Just minutes ago, they'd been doing their routine work—clearing out Sawtooth Worms, running minor missions against the Jiang Clan. And now suddenly they were being told to prepare for war.

Lin Shu stood among the group, watching with narrowed eyes. "Well, I guess that technique's useless for now." He was, of course, thinking about the Pale-Lotus Flow technique. He'd memorized it, but hadn't trained with it enough to even use it properly in a real fight. That made it dead weight at the moment.

"I'll have to watch my back until I have time to master it."

His gaze moved toward Vice Dean Lu Heng, who was speaking quietly with Kui Jinhu. He could just barely catch the words:

"We'll send the Jiang Clan a message. Request a private meeting in a neutral location. We'll present ourselves as seeking peace. If they reject it, we'll propose a final standoff—either between our students or between their elders and us."

Kui Jinhu gave a simple nod and followed behind Lu Heng, while the vice dean turned toward Tao Mu.

"Tao Mu, prepare the students and carry out the plan for the mine. As for you…" he looked to Jun Fen, "You'll be coming with me."

Jun Fen nodded without comment, clearly unfazed. Lu Heng simply turned and began to walk off, his two instructors falling in step behind him.

Lin Shu's attention drifted to Ren Hao, who was staring daggers at Jun Fen, his jaw clenched with quiet fury. Zeng Shiyang, not far from them, was glaring at Ren Hao as if itching for a reason to start something.

"I still don't know why Zeng Shiyang hates Ren Hao so much, but honestly, I don't need to." Lin Shu thought coldly. "If he kills him for me, he's doing me a favor."

He shifted his gaze to the left—and locked eyes with Yun Qiu and Wu Jian. Both were walking toward him, flanked by their respective entourages, wearing expressions that dripped with barely-contained resentment.

"Quite bold of you," Wu Jian muttered, "to tell everyone how you're better than us. Stronger, even. Isn't that right, Lin Shu?"

Lin Shu blinked, eyebrows twitching slightly in confusion. "What the hell are they talking about?"

Before he could respond, Yun Qiu cut in, tone cold and threatening. "We'll deal with you after this is over."

Other students nearby turned their heads, watching with interest. Some had smirks, others pitied Lin Shu, and a few just stood there with the look of someone witnessing an inevitable beating waiting to happen. Lin Shu didn't even get the chance to explain, but inside his head, a dozen scenarios and suspicions were already forming.

And then a familiar voice rang out with laughter. "Didn't know you were that strong and brave, Lin Shu. Hahaha."

He turned to see Xie Lang walking up with a crooked smile, eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Didn't expect you to insult both the Yun Clan and Wu Clan in the same breath," he chuckled. "You've got guts. Or maybe you've just gone stupid."

Still confused, Lin Shu remained silent, eyes narrowing slightly.

Xie Lang leaned in, clearly enjoying the drama. "You really called them spoiled brats? Said they're good for nothing without their clans?"

Yun Qiu's expression twisted even further, his jaw tight with rage. Wu Jian's fists clenched at his sides, the veins on his arm throbbing beneath the skin.

Lin Shu said nothing, but deep down he understood what had happened. "So that's it. Someone's been spreading lies. Someone's framing me. Planting words I never said."

And now, he was caught in the center of it.

He could already feel the weight of their anger pressing down on him. These young masters weren't just arrogant—they were the type to never forget an insult. Raised in clans where even elders lowered their gaze, they couldn't tolerate disrespect, especially not from a nobody like Lin Shu.

What Lin Shu didn't know was that the storm gathering around him had been carefully engineered from the very beginning.

Vice Dean Lu Heng had been throwing subtle jabs and poisonous words in his name—specifically targeting the pride of Yun Qiu and Wu Jian. He never lied outright, but the way he twisted the truth, exaggerated Lin Shu's accomplishments, and "accidentally" let slip some choice insults, made it easy for the two young masters to believe that Lin Shu had openly belittled them.

After all, they already disliked him. From the moment Lin Shu leapt past them on the merit board by several ranks, a nameless, clanless cultivator of so-called "Rank 1 talent" who had the nerve to outperform them, they saw him as a thorn in their pride. And Lu Heng used that perfectly.

Every time Lin Shu returned from a dangerous mission with more merits, Lu Heng whispered a little more venom in just the right ears. To Yun Qiu: "Lin Shu said yun clan flame arts are simple fireworks and bucket of water is enough to stop their arts." To Wu Jian: "He said the Wu Clan's famed blade arts were sloppy compared to his own techniques that he even saw mortals with better form and style then the wu clansman."

None of it was true. But none of it had to be.

Because pride doesn't wait for proof—it only needs a push.

And Lu Heng wasn't doing this for fun. It was a strategic move. He needed the Yun and Wu heirs to stay in the mine. Their clans had already learned of the ongoing conflict with the Jiang Clan and had demanded their return more than once. But the two refused—too stubborn, too prideful, especially after hearing again and again about Lin Shu "surpassing" them.

They couldn't stomach the idea of going home while a nobody without backing, without talent, without a name, stood taller than them.

Lu Heng made sure of that.

Because if Yun Qiu and Wu Jian stayed, their clans would have no choice but to remain invested. And if they were hurt—wounded or worse—the Yun and Wu clans would have to retaliate against the Jiang Clan. That was Lu Heng's real aim.

He didn't care about Lin Shu. To him, Lin Shu was just a tool. A convenient thorn used to prick the pride of stronger men and force greater pieces on the board to move.

And so now, without even knowing it, Lin Shu was surrounded by enemies that shouldn't have cared about him at all. Not because he insulted them. Not because he was stronger. But because one man in power whispered the right lies at the right time, and let hatred bloom in silence.

All while the pawn at the center of it sharpened his blade in the dark, unaware he was being used to build a war.

Lin Shu stood there surrounded by a sea of stares.

It wasn't just Yun Qiu and Wu Jian glaring like wounded beasts who'd had their pride spat on. It wasn't just Zeng Shiyang watching him with a sneer before flicking his eyes back to Ren Hao, waiting for the moment to strike. It wasn't just the murmurs or shifting gazes.

It was everyone.

Even those who didn't know the full details of the lies had been fed bits and pieces. A twisted story here. A rumor laced with pride and resentment there. Lin Shu had walked back into a cage of wolves—and the worst part was, he hadn't even noticed it happening.

He caught sight of Yan Qing, stoic as always, but his presence now stood isolated he too was getting ill looks and took a few insults from yun qiu it was as if the three no name cultivator thay managed to outperform or at least the prodigies and heirs were now being hated because of everything lu Heng lied about them and simply because the strong don't kiek the weak rising to their heights and the weak don't like others rising before them so one is doing this because arrogance and the other because jealousy. A moment later, Lin Shu's gaze drifted to the worst of it—Han Yi. She was staring at him like he'd personally insulted everything she held sacred. That sharp, piercing frown etched across her usually unreadable expression gave him an alarm that something was indeed wrong.

"What the hell did she hear to look at me like that…?"

He thought back. He had never spoken to her beyond surface-level words. Never insulted her nor did he ever interfer with her business.

But Lu Heng didn't need facts.

All he needed was to prod a single exposed nerve—her master. Lin Shu didn't know it, but Lu Heng had whispered something venomous about Lu Zhenhai. Just a subtle insult. A suggestion that someone like Lin Shu—ungrateful, arrogant, reckless—was dragging down the name of a man as respected as her master. He didn't even need to convince Han Yi with repetition. One poisoned dart in the right place was enough to sour her view completely.

And now, Lin Shu was suffocating under a storm he never saw coming.

"Damn it," he muttered internally. "I don't remember pissing off someone enough to go this far…"

He clenched his fists. Not in rage, but restraint. He wanted to snarl. But all he did was stand, eyes forward, back straight, because pride was a luxury he couldn't afford.

Only one face among the crowd wasn't wearing a mask of contempt—Xie Lang. But even his smile wasn't one of friendship. It was amusement, like a spectator watching a cornered beast thrash.

"Anyway, good luck with them," Xie Lang whispered with a smirk, casually patting Lin Shu's shoulder. "You even managed to get her to look at you like that."

He nodded toward Han Yi, who turned just then and gave Lin Shu one final, venomous stare before facing forward again.

Lin Shu said nothing.

A shift swept over the group. The students stiffened, standing straighter, the atmosphere snapping into a brittle silence.

Tao Mu was approaching.

But even as discipline returned to the group's formation, Lin Shu could still feel it—that heat behind his back, that weight in the air.

And none of it was earned.

But it didn't matter.

No one ever asked if it was earned.

Only if it could be used.