2026-03-11 16:17:55POV: Liam
"Your Highness, please, you must get back inside the carriage. A fall at this speed could cause you permanent injury, and we cannot have more blood on our hands today."
The voice was thin, reeking of a feigned, oily concern. An old man, his skin as wrinkled as parchment and his back slightly stooped, appeared before me. He looked to be in his nineties, his white hair sparse and his eyes hidden behind half-closed lids. This was Old Zhu.
The moment my eyes landed on him, a glacial chill settled in my chest. In the original plot of my novel, Old Zhu was a venomous snake hidden in the grass. He was the architect of Liam's downfall, a man who manipulated the blind prince to consolidate his own clan's power. He was the one who systematically drained the state's treasury, leaving Liam to take the fall as a corrupt, incompetent governor. That reputation was the very reason the public cheered when Liam's head finally hit the block.
I felt a surge of pure disdain, but I kept my face a mask of childish confusion. I allowed him to push me back into the plush interior of the carriage without a word.
"Thank you, Old Zhu," I murmured, my voice trembling just enough to sell the act.
The carriage lurched forward, beginning its final trek through the city gates. I sat in the darkness, the velvet curtains drawn tight, preventing any prying eyes from seeing the Ninth Prince. But I didn't need the windows. My new 'High Senses' skill allowed me to feel the vibrations of the city, the heavy atmosphere of a place forgotten by God.
After what felt like an eternity, the rhythmic clopping of the beasts' hooves came to a halt. We had arrived at the governor's mansion—a sprawling, decaying estate that stood as a testament to the Secluded State's neglect.
'I have to keep playing the part,' I reminded myself, my heart hammering against my ribs. 'The moment they suspect I've changed, the moment they realize I can see... I'm dead.'
The carriage door creaked open. Old Zhu reached in, his bony hands surprisingly strong as he hoisted me onto his shoulder. He did it with an exaggerated flourish, smiling warmly at the onlookers as if he were a doting grandfather instead of a parasite. I felt a wave of nausea at his touch, but I remained limp, my head resting against his shoulder like a broken doll.
As we moved toward the mansion's entrance, the whispers began. They weren't the quiet, respectful murmurs of subjects greeting royalty. They were jagged, cruel, and dripping with malice.
"Is that him? The trash Ninth Prince?"
"Yeah, that's the one. A mistake wrapped in silk. Even the Emperor couldn't stand the sight of him. Can you blame him? Who wants a blind, talentless brat as a son?"
"And he's the son of a maid, no less! How dare he carry the royal blood in those veins? He's a stain on the Vermilion name."
The voices belonged to the maids and guards lining the courtyard. They didn't even bother to lower their volume. To them, I was a deaf, blind creature—a piece of luggage to be stored away. I felt a scorching heat rise in my chest. These people were talking about a four-year-old child as if he were a rabid animal. My fingers twitched, a primal urge to teach them a lesson they would never forget clawing at my soul.
What disgusted me more was Old Zhu's silence. He didn't offer a single word of reprimand. He let them feast on my dignity, his silence a silent endorsement of their cruelty.
He carried me through the dusty hallways and into a bedroom that smelled of stale air and old wood. He laid me down on the bed with a patronizing pat on the head.
"Your Highness, you must rest now," he said, his voice a soothing rasp. "Your journey was long, and your injuries are severe. Do not worry about the State; I will personally handle all the affairs and ensure everything is managed until you feel well enough to join us."
The subtext was clear: *Stay in this room, stay injured, and let me steal everything that isn't nailed down.*
"Thank you... Old Zhu..." I whispered, closing my eyes.
The moment the heavy oak door clicked shut and his footsteps faded down the hall, I snapped my eyes open. I sat up, the 'injury' forgotten.
"Acting like a half-dead child is exhausting," I hissed, rubbing my temples. "That old bastard didn't even check if my wounds had healed. He's so blinded by his own greed that he can't see the wolf sitting right in front of him."
I took a deep breath, calming the storm of anger in my mind. Now was not the time for revenge. Now was the time for preparation.
'Open System,' I thought.
The familiar blue screen shimmered into existence, lighting up the dim room with a ghostly glow.
[ Name: Liam (Mike) ]
[ Title: Secluded State Ruler ]
[ Age: 4 (21) ]
[ Health: 100% (Recovery Completed) ]
[ Cultivation Qi: None ]
[ Cultivation Body: None ]
[ Skills: High Senses Lv. 5 (Sense everything within 10 meters) ]
[ Servants: 0 ]
[ Summon Tickets: 2 Low-Level Summon Tickets ]
I scanned the interface. 'Is there a shop? An inventory?' I focused my mind. 'Open Shop.'
I waited. One minute. Two. Nothing happened.
"No shop?" I muttered. "I guess that makes sense. I don't have any points or currency listed on the main screen. It's likely locked or doesn't exist yet."
I tried another command. 'Open Inventory.'
Another window popped up, divided into neat, square grids. My eyes widened. Inside the boxes sat a shimmering Golden Chest and two White Tickets. I didn't hesitate; I mentally 'clicked' on the chest.
A brilliant burst of white light filled the room, accompanied by the heavy, satisfying sound of a lock clicking open. As the light faded, four new items occupied the grid.
A leather-bound book, an ornate sword, a Silver Ticket, and a half-mask made of solid gold—one that lacked any eye holes.
"A Starter Gift Pack?" I breathed, my excitement mounting. "Let's see what we have here."
I focused on the book first. The moment my fingers touched the spectral icon, a colossal wave of information flooded my brain. It wasn't just text; it was a sensory d******d. The book was titled "Cultivation True Form."
It was a masterpiece of knowledge. It broke down the complex mechanics of Qi manipulation, the precise location of every meridian in the human body, and the fundamental secrets of body enhancement that most cultivators spent decades trying to grasp. But the jewel of the collection was a technique called "Ultimate Sky Foundation."
In the world of my novel, talent was fixed from birth. You were born either a genius or a peasant. But this technique... it allowed a cultivator to manually upgrade their body's talent.
"This is impossible knowledge," I whispered, my mind reeling. "Even the Sect Leaders of the Great Empires wouldn't know half of this. With this, I can rebuild my foundation from scratch."
Next, I turned my attention to the sword. A new screen appeared with a detailed description.
[ Item: Sword Maniac's Sword ]
[ Stage: Peak Legendary Rank ]
[ Abilities: SEALED ]
[ Requirements: 1. Sword Maniac's Inheritance. 2. Sword Spirit Agreement. ]
"Peak Legendary..." My heart skipped a beat. This was the sword of the very legend whose inheritance I had just seen at the city gates. I knew exactly how to get it. Most people thought inheritances were found, but in my lore, the inheritance found *you*. To earn it, I had to perform the 'Sword Maniac's Rituals'—a grueling 30-day cycle of specific movements and meditation. And since I was the one who wrote the rituals, I was the only person in this entire world who knew how to perform them.
I moved to the next item.
[ Item: Golden Mask ]
[ Stage: High Sky ]
[ Abilities: 1. Perceive anything within a 2km radius. 2. Obscure true cultivation stage. 3. Enhance all senses. 4. Passive increase in Eye-Attribute abilities. (Abilities 5 and 6 are SEALED). ]
This was perfect. It would hide the fact that I could see, and more importantly, it would keep my enemies from knowing my true strength.
Finally, I looked at the tickets.
[ Mid-Level Summon Ticket: Summon one mid-rank loyal servant or a squad of low-level loyal servants. ]
[ Low-Level Summon Ticket: Summon one low-level loyal servant. ]
"I need people I can trust," I said, my voice hardening. "In this mansion, everyone is either a spy or a traitor. I need a shadow."
I clicked 'Start Summon' on both tickets simultaneously.
The air in the bedroom began to vibrate. A thick, ethereal fog—half white, half silver—poured out of the system screen, swallowing the bed and the furniture. A sudden, violent wind began to howl within the four walls of the room, rattling the windows and tossing my hair.
Through the swirling mist, I saw the silhouettes of figures taking shape. These wouldn't be just servants; they would be the foundation of my new empire.
"Come forth," I commanded, my eyes glowing with a newfound fire. "The Ninth Prince has work to do."
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6
POV: LiamA week had passed since I first stepped into this decaying mansion, and the atmosphere had shifted from stagnant to electric. I spent my days sitting cross-legged on the cold stone floor, lost in a trance of meditation as I awaited the reports from Ren and Thor. Outside my window, the Secluded State was changing, but not in the way the history books would one day record.Old Zhu had become increasingly daring, his greed acting like a terminal disease. Believing my feigned support was absolute, he began to operate as if he were the true sovereign of this land. He had already started moving members of his clan into the city, occupying key positions and siphoning resources to bolster their influence.In the original novel, the 'Old Liam' was a stubborn, reactive child who fought Zhu at every turn. That resistance only made the old fox sharper, more cautious, and more calculated. But by giving him 100% authority, I had essentially handed him a golden noose. He thought he was win
5
POV: LiamThe small, lightweight sword felt unfamiliar in my grip, its cold steel a stark contrast to the warmth of my small palm. I held it tightly, my knuckles turning white. Even though this was my first time ever wielding a real blade, I didn't let the daunting nature of the task discourage me. As the creator of this world, I knew that mastery wasn't just about muscle memory; it was about the soul. I was weak now, barely able to keep the sword level, but I would grow. I had to—without compromising my physical development at such a tender age.Recalling the rhythmic verses of the 'Sword Maniac's Ritual', I sat down cross-legged on the cold floor. I unsheathed the blade with a slow, deliberate motion. The metallic ring echoed through the silent room. I placed the scabbard before me like a fallen foe and rested the blade across my knees. Closing my eyes, I began to chant the ancient words I had once written in a dark room, never imagining I would one day speak them into existence:"S
4
POV: Liam"You idiots, calm down! Or do you want the entire mansion to find out about your existence before the sun even sets?"My voice, though small and high-pitched, carried a sharp edge that cut through the thick tension in the room. The air, which had been vibrating with the clashing auras of a Warlord and a Demi-Dragon, suddenly grew still."Yes, my Lord," they chimed in unison, their heads bowing so low they nearly touched the floorboards. Even Kurma let out a small, apologetic squeak, his nine tails tucking slightly between his legs.I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. I was a four-year-old child commanding entities that could level this city, and the weight of that responsibility was starting to settle on my shoulders. I looked at Thor and then at Ren, my gaze lingering on each of them to ensure they understood the gravity of my next words."Ren, Thor... listen to me carefully. I will not tolerate any infighting between you. You are my left and right hands
3
POV: LiamThe bedroom, which only moments ago felt like a stagnant tomb, was now the epicenter of a swirling, ethereal storm. A thick, pearlescent white fog bled from the system screen, swallowing the tattered rug and the moth-eaten curtains. It wasn't just mist; it felt heavy, charged with a primal energy that made the very air hum against my skin.As I sat small and frail on the oversized bed, three silhouettes began to coalesce within the haze. They grew taller, sharper, and more imposing with every passing second. The silver fog began to dissipate, retreating like a tide, and revealing the trio that would become my sword and my shield in this treacherous world.Standing to the left was a man who looked like he had been forged in the fires of a thousand wars. He was middle-aged, his face a map of jagged scars and weathered wisdom. He wore crimson war armor that seemed to pulse with a faint, bloody light, and in his hand, he gripped a spear so long it nearly touched the ceiling—its
2
POV: Liam"Your Highness, please, you must get back inside the carriage. A fall at this speed could cause you permanent injury, and we cannot have more blood on our hands today."The voice was thin, reeking of a feigned, oily concern. An old man, his skin as wrinkled as parchment and his back slightly stooped, appeared before me. He looked to be in his nineties, his white hair sparse and his eyes hidden behind half-closed lids. This was Old Zhu.The moment my eyes landed on him, a glacial chill settled in my chest. In the original plot of my novel, Old Zhu was a venomous snake hidden in the grass. He was the architect of Liam's downfall, a man who manipulated the blind prince to consolidate his own clan's power. He was the one who systematically drained the state's treasury, leaving Liam to take the fall as a corrupt, incompetent governor. That reputation was the very reason the public cheered when Liam's head finally hit the block.I felt a surge of pure disdain, but I kept my face a
1
POV: LiamThe southern reaches of the Skyfall Continent were a desolate wasteland, a place where the sun felt like a physical weight pressing down on the earth. Amidst the swirling dust and the rhythmic thumping of heavy paws, a massive caravan snaked across the horizon. Four hundred soldiers, their armor clanking in a grim symphony, surrounded the central carriage with the vigilance of men guarding a tomb. Inside that carriage, my world began with a jolt of pure, unadulterated agony.I woke up, but I didn't recognize the darkness. Every nerve in my body screamed, a white-hot fire coursing through my veins that made the simple act of breathing feel like swallowing shards of glass. I tried to gasp, to cry out for help, but my throat was a desert. Before I could even process the smallness of my hands or the strange plushness of the seat beneath me, a tidal wave of foreign memories crashed against the shores of my mind.The force of it was violent. Images of a cold palace, the sting of a
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