Pre-Competition Politics

Dawn found Zǔ Zhòu in Elder Feng's study, the Temporal Demon Transformation Scripture laid open between them. Three days had passed since Liu Hao's "accident," and the family still buzzed with talk of his compassionate intervention.

"Remarkable preservation," Elder Feng murmured, studying the manual with Core Formation spiritual sense. "The binding alone defies conventional understanding. These crystallized screams... they're still active after a millennium."

"The manual seems to feed on suffering," Zǔ Zhòu offered hesitantly. "When I first touched it, I felt it trying to... taste my deviation experience."

Elder Feng's eyes sharpened. "You've had time to study it properly. What have you discovered?"

"The entire cultivation system is temporal-focused. Every technique, every advancement method—all based on time manipulation." He pointed to relevant passages. "But elder, why would an ancient sect develop such a specialized path?"

"Show me their theoretical foundation."

Zǔ Zhòu turned to the introduction, where the ancient cultivators had documented their discoveries. Elder Feng read intently, occasionally making sounds of disbelief.

"They built their sect around what they call a 'temporal wound,'" the elder said slowly. "A place where time itself was damaged. They claim cultivation near such wounds awakened temporal sensitivity."

"Like my deviation," Zǔ Zhòu suggested carefully. "The underground chamber where I practice—sometimes I feel strange fluctuations there. As if time moves differently."

Elder Feng's expression grew thoughtful. "You discovered this manual in those same chambers. If a temporal wound exists beneath our estate, it would explain much. Your deviation occurring there, your sensitivity to these concepts, why this manual resonates with your condition..."

"So the sect developed temporal cultivation because their environment demanded it?"

"More than demanded—infected them with it." Elder Feng traced a diagram showing cultivation progression. "According to this, prolonged exposure to temporal wounds creates permanent changes in spiritual perception. What normal cultivators see as linear, they perceived as fluid."

Perfect. The explanation emerged naturally, hiding truth within truth.

"This is dangerous knowledge," Elder Feng continued. "But your progress proves compatibility. Continue studying, but carefully. Document every advancement, every side effect. If temporal wounds truly exist, we must understand their influence."

"Yes, Elder Feng. Thank you for your guidance."

He left with the manual properly approved, one more piece sliding into place. The morning's remaining hours belonged to competition preparation—or rather, the appearance of it.

The training grounds buzzed with unusual activity. Where normally disciples practiced in isolation or small groups, now clusters formed around prominent figures. Alliances taking shape with less than two weeks remaining.

Liu Feng held court near the weapons rack, surrounded by the family's most promising youth. His Inner circle included two Foundation Establishment cousins and his usual Qi Condensation followers—a power bloc that would dominate through sheer cultivation advantage.

"Resource allocation affects everyone," Liu Feng addressed his supporters. "Unite behind proven strength, and rising tides lift all boats. My victories become your opportunities."

Classic heir politics. Promise trickle-down benefits to secure overwhelming advantage. Several disciples nodded eagerly, already calculating their improved positions.

Across the grounds, Liu Qiang built a coalition of desperate middle-rankers. "Liu Feng's group will take the top ten spots unless we coordinate. Strategic cooperation during group events, tactical support in melees. Together we can secure respectable placements."

The ambitious cousin Liu Xiao worked the margins, recruiting those too weak for major alliances but useful as cannon fodder. Even Liu Yun had found allies among the consistently bottom-ranked, forming a survival pact.

"Tournament arc politics," Zǔ Zhòu murmured to his anchor servant during a water break. "The strong unite to dominate, the middle band together to resist, the weak huddle for warmth. Such predictable narrative structures."

"You remain unaligned."

"Publicly. The desperate cultivator too focused on personal improvement to play politics." He watched Liu Feng's speech with amusement. "Besides, alliances assume competition follows expected patterns. They prepare for a tournament. I'm preparing a psychological massacre."

That afternoon, while others schemed openly, Zǔ Zhòu enacted his true preparations. The competition grounds covered significant area—main arena, secondary rings, preparation chambers, spectator sections. Plenty of space for subtle modifications.

"Servant Kuo, you're assigned ground maintenance this week?"

The older man nodded nervously. He'd witnessed enough "experiments" to fear any attention from the third young master.

"Excellent. These formation stones need placement around the competition area." Zǔ Zhòu handed over a pouch. "Standard qi gathering arrays to help competitors recover between matches. Bury them at these specific coordinates."

Not qi gathering arrays. Each stone contained modified emotional resonance formations—simplified versions of his torture arrays. Too weak to cause direct harm, but sufficient to amplify existing negative emotions. Doubt would become anxiety. Worry would edge toward panic. Irritation would flare into anger.

"The main arena gets three stones at the cardinal points," he instructed. "Secondary rings need one each, center position. Preparation chambers... here, northwest corners where competitors wait."

"Young Master, these patterns seem—"

"Complicated? Yes, temporal cultivation requires precise positioning. Trust my calculations."

Over three nights, the servant network placed twenty-seven stones throughout the competition grounds. Each individually weak, collectively creating an emotional pressure cooker. Competitors would attribute increased stress to normal pre-fight nerves, never suspecting environmental manipulation.

"Young Master Wei!" Liu Feng's voice interrupted his evening's final placement. The heir approached with calculated casualness. "Training late again?"

"Competition approaches quickly, Eldest Brother."

"Indeed. I notice you haven't aligned with any group." Liu Feng studied him carefully. "Still the lone wolf? Or waiting for the right offer?"

Ah. Recruitment attempt disguised as casual observation.

"I'm still finding my footing after the deviation," Zǔ Zhòu replied. "Alliances require understanding my new capabilities first."

"Wise. Though isolation has disadvantages. The competition includes group events where cooperation matters."

"You're suggesting I need protection?"

"I'm suggesting mutual benefit." Liu Feng's smile remained controlled. "Your temporal techniques intrigue me. My established position could provide resources for development. Consider it."

After he left, Zǔ Zhòu permitted himself a cold smile. Liu Feng recruiting him meant the psychological campaign was working. The heir wanted to control potential threats, bind them with obligation before they grew dangerous.

"He fears what I might become," he told his servant. "Good. Fear makes people stupid."

The final phase began two nights before competition. While others slept, Zǔ Zhòu activated the emotional resonance stones through careful qi projection. The arrays hummed to life, invisible to spiritual detection but actively influencing the ambient emotional field.

The effects manifested immediately. Morning training showed increased aggression—sparring matches turned vicious, arguments erupted over minor issues. The alliance structures began showing strain as amplified personality conflicts emerged.

"Competition nerves," everyone assured each other. "Normal pre-tournament tension."

But Zǔ Zhòu watched the patterns with satisfaction. Liu Feng's coalition showed cracks as subordinates grew resentful of assumed superiority. Liu Qiang's middle-rank alliance bickered over tactical details that shouldn't matter. Even the bottom-ranker survival pact fragmented as desperation amplified into hopelessness.

"Emotional fault lines exposed," he documented privately. "Array efficiency exceeds projections. Competition day will see these cracks become chasms."

The night before competition, tradition demanded a gathering. All participating disciples assembled in the main hall for ritual encouragement and rule explanations. Zǔ Zhòu attended in his role as desperate but determined underdog.

"Tomorrow determines the year's trajectory," Liu Tiansheng addressed them. "Show your cultivation, your control, your dedication to family advancement. Remember—we evaluate not just strength but character."

Several disciples glanced at Liu Hao's empty seat. Character included knowing one's limits, apparently.

"Rest well," the patriarch concluded. "Tomorrow, prove your worth."

As disciples dispersed, final political maneuvers played out. Promises exchanged, threats implied, last-minute alliance shifts. Zǔ Zhòu navigated it all with polite disinterest, the desperate cultivator too focused on personal preparation for politics.

In truth, his preparation was complete. Twenty-seven emotional amplification arrays waited to turn competition stress into exploitable chaos. Psychological profiles on every competitor promised optimal manipulation strategies. The stage was set for a tournament that would technically follow all rules while violating every expectation.

"Traditional tournament arc subverted," he murmured to the watching void. "They expect rival fights and power-up moments. They'll get psychological breakdown and existential crisis instead."

Tomorrow, the competition would begin.

Tonight, the stones quietly poisoned the emotional atmosphere, ensuring no one slept as peacefully as they believed they deserved.