Xīng Tiānyuán sat in his office and stared at documents that refused to make sense.
The intelligence reports were thorough, detailed, sourced from networks that had cost his family generations to establish. But what they contained shouldn't have been possible.
A god had died.
An actual divine existence at Transcendent stage, one of the eleven rulers, had been killed. Heiyun Jue, the Space God, was dead.
A knock sounded at the door.
"Come in."
A man entered, fine-featured, impeccably dressed, carrying the practiced deference of someone who had served the Xīng family for decades. The butler.
"Your Grace," he said, bowing.
Hello, Valeor, go on"Speak."
"The information you requested, sir. We received the response from the intelligence team this morning."
Tiānyuán gestured for him to continue.
"It has been confirmed, sir. The Space God is dead. The news will become public within the next year, his followers are currently attempting to establish order before the announcement spreads. There is high possibility of detachment. Many will scatter. Some are waiting to see if a new God with the space God's legacy emerges to claim His territory."
Tiānyuán nodded slowly. When a Transcendent died, their domain fractured.
But the butler's next words made him pause.
"Some followers are serious about waiting for a successor, sir. They believe another Divine Existence will ascend to Transcendent stage within the next decade and claim the legacy."
Tiānyuán laughed.
Sharp. Bitter. Carrying disbelief. The butler's posture stiffened. He'd served the family long enough to know that his patriarch rarely laughed. When he did, it usually preceded something terrible.
"Are they serious?" Tiānyuán asked, his laughter dying. "Do they genuinely believe someone will reach Transcendent stage in a single decade? That path takes centuries. Millennia, for most. The idea that—"
The office door opened.
The butler turned immediately, bowing deeply. "Madam."
Xīng Yuèyi entered with a child in tow, a boy, perhaps five years old, whose dark eyes carried an intensity that seemed wrong for someone so young. She guided him to the sofa, then moved to the chair closest to her husband's desk.
"Darling," she said, settling in with the grace of someone born to authority. "You've been overworking yourself. You should rest."
Tiānyuán smiled, genuine, though tinged with weariness. "I can't afford to, dear. You know that."
Yuèyi sighed. "Then it's time I returned to the office. We can share the burden."
"Don't worry, dear. I can handle this—"
"We take responsibility together," she interrupted, her voice carrying finality. "That was our agreement."
"But Yû—"
"Yû is fine." She glanced at the boy. "He's a man now."
Tiānyuán followed her gaze. Xīng Yû had already opened a book, one of the historical texts from Tiānyuán's personal collection, far too advanced for a five-year-old but exactly the kind of material the boy gravitated toward. Always reading. Always absorbing information.
He'd been the same way since he was old enough to hold books without tearing pages.
Just like his sister.
The thought made Tiānyuán's chest tighten.
"He's only five," he said quietly.
Yuèyi's expression softened, but her resolve didn't waver. "And what would you do if he tested positive for a connection to concept?"
"It's too early to—"
"The Space God is dead."
The words fell into the office like stones.
The butler went pale. This was information that should have been restricted to the highest levels of their intelligence network. How did the matriarch know?
The argument continued.
"—absurd to even consider—"
"—prepared for the possibility—"
"—he's just a child—"
"—so was she—"
The butler forced himself to focus.
"Valeor," Tiānyuán's voice cut through.
"Yes, Your Grace?"
"Continue with the report."
The butler swallowed and continued reading.
"Based on the intelligence gathered and cross-referenced with historical patterns, the last mass drafting occurred five years ago."
Both Tiānyuán and Yuèyi went still.
Five years ago, their daughter had been taken.
Mass drafting. Separate from the normal system where families could choose to have their children tested at age nine. A mandatory conscription of every child between ages seven and nine. Rich and poor. Royal and commoner. No exemptions.
Xīng Hé had been six. She'd run. She'd been caught. They'd been forced to post the notice themselves.
Gone.
For five years, no contact. No confirmation of survival beyond the absence of death notifications.
The butler continued.
"The mass drafting five years ago was presented as an emergency measure. Following its conclusion, the system was supposed to return to voluntary testing at age nine."
He paused.
"However, our intelligence analysts predict with ninety percent confidence that another mass drafting will occur. The original estimate placed it within the next twenty years, but recent developments suggest the timeline will be significantly accelerated."
"How accelerated?" Yuèyi asked.
The butler consulted his documents. "Four years, Madam. Possibly less if the instability in the divine realm continues to worsen."
Four years.
Xīng Yû would be nine. The exact age his sister had been when the previous mass drafting would have caught her.
Yuèyi looked at her son. He was still reading, his eyes half-closed now, exhaustion finally catching up.
Please don't have the connection. Please let him be ordinary.
A strange prayer for someone whose family owed their wealth to a long history of divine existences. But Yuèyi would trade all of it if it meant her son wouldn't be drafted.
That's why she'd trained Xīng Yû differently.
Her daughter had been raised with love and gentleness, encouraged to pursue her interests, given freedom to develop naturally. When the drafting came, Xīng Hé had been unprepared.
Yuèyi wouldn't make that mistake twice.
Xīng Yû had been trained since he could walk, combat as play, survival as games, mental conditioning designed to harden a child's psychology against trauma.
All of it preparation for the possibility he would follow his sister.
"The intelligence report also indicates," the butler continued, "that the Space God's death has created opportunities for territorial expansion among the remaining Transcendents. Some are already moving to claim his former domain. The political situation is... extremely fluid."
"Fluid," Tiānyuán repeated. "An interesting way to describe gods going to war."
He stood and walked to the window. Outside, the estate grounds stretched into darkness. Gardens maintained with obsessive care. Walls high enough to keep out most threats. Guards patrolling with military discipline.
All of it designed to protect a family that couldn't actually be protected.
"We need to accelerate Yû's training," Yuèyi said quietly.
Tiānyuán turned.
"If another mass drafting is coming, if it's inevitable that he'll be tested and likely drafted, then four years isn't enough. We need to prepare him for scenarios we haven't covered."
"He's five years old—"
"And in four years he'll be nine. Old enough to be taken." Yuèyi's voice remained steady, but something cold had entered it. "We failed Hé because we didn't know. We won't fail Yû the same way."
On the sofa, Xīng Yû's book slipped from his hands as sleep finally claimed him.
Tiānyuán watched him sleep.
He'd failed to protect Xīng Hé.
Whatever it took, whatever cost, whatever sacrifice, he would ensure his son had every possible advantage when the drafting came.
Even if that meant destroying the childhood he should have had.