Chương 103: Killing Intent

October 2028, International Formation Institute, Pittsburgh During his time on Earth, Leo had made tremendous progress in his formation work. He had finished all of the introductory complex arrays and begun studying intermediate formations over the last couple of weeks. Intermediate formations used intermediate runes, runes that were considered outside of the system.

For example, the Seven Stars system contained seven array runes: Greedy Wolf, Great Gate, Prosperity, High Culture, High Command, Incorruptible, and Army Breaker. But two additional stars existed outside the system. The Left Auxiliary Star and the Right Assistant Star. The problem was that since the Seven Stars system split spiritual qi seven ways, there was no way to actually draw the eighth or ninth stars with spiritual qi. Intermediate runes were like the scaffolding of a formation.

You used them during the construction of a new formation, but removed them before drawing the formation with spiritual qi. Consider how builders constructed a stone arch. They started by erecting wooden scaffolding in the shape of the desired curve. Each stone was cut and placed against that scaffolding. Once the keystone locked everything together, the scaffolding was removed. The wood was gone, but its influence persisted in the precise angle of every stone.

The arch held a shape that no individual stone could explain on its own. Intermediate runes worked the same way. They were the scaffolding. The standard runes were the stones, and they held curves and angles that would have been impossible without the intermediate runes pressing against them during the design phase. This allowed the Seven Stars system to produce effects that the base seven runes alone could never achieve. Drawing intermediate formations was hard enough. Deducing them was worse.

Over the last few decades, great strides had been made in using computers to assist with intermediate formation decryption. The most famous example came from WWII, when the British formation master Alan Turing developed an electronic decryption device to crack the German ENIGMA intermediate rune. His machine became one of the early predecessors of modern computers. During the Grand Formations Summit, three of the competitors selected through the IMO would handle the systematic decryption of complex pivots.

Leo's role was observation and inscription. He would use his divine sense to perceive details in the formation problems that his teammates could not, and when they proposed a solution, he would inscribe it and report any difficulties or inaccuracies he felt while drawing. He spent most of his days doing drills with rotating teams of formation masters, practicing the back and forth of observation and inscription. Somehow, the trainers at MOP made the difficult work enjoyable and satisfying.

His coaches understood that formation training differed from physical conditioning. You couldn't mindlessly grind repetitions. Instead, they designed each session around a simple loop: present a challenge, work through it together, and finish with a completed formation. The Institute had given him his own formations logbook, and every day he added more pages, recording each formation he mastered.

For American students who wanted to participate in the IMO, the International Manifestation Olympiad, and thus have a chance to join the team for the Grand Formation Summit, they had to first pass through three increasingly difficult examinations. The first was the AMC, held back in September. The top five percent of scorers advanced to the AIME, the American Invitational Manifestation Examination, held in October.

This year's AIME was especially difficult because it primarily focused on intermediate formation decryption. Vivian aced it anyway. Only the top 250 scorers advanced. Matt was not one of them. The final examination would be the USAMO, the USA Manifestation Olympiad. This year's USAMO would be held in person at the International Formation Institute in Pittsburgh.

The reason became clear when the practice problems dropped: for the first time ever, the exam would test Foundation Establishment tier formation decryption. This was theoretically impossible for high school students. Tier 2 formations required divine sense far beyond what any Qi Refining cultivator possessed. A typical high schooler might have a Si around 100 or 200. Drawing a Tier 2 formation required over 1000. Qi Refining high school students could not draw Tier 2 formations alone.

Unless, of course, you had divine blood that granted unnaturally high divine sense. Or your name was Leo Chen. For everyone else, the Institute implemented a partnership system. Each test-taker would collaborate with a T2 formation master during the examination. The master would handle the actual observing and inscribing while the student directed the process. Students could bring their own partners or use masters provided by the Institute.

Although strict rules governed these partnerships to prevent cheating, those who brought their own held a clear advantage. Although Vivian had been using the divine sense press every day since arriving to the Azure Profound Continent, her Si of 500 was nowhere near the threshold for Tier 2 work. She would need a partner. So Leo offered to help. It seemed obvious. He had the divine sense, she had the theory, and they already knew each other well enough to skip the awkward phase of learning a new partner's habits.

They barely made it through three practice questions before realizing that Vivian's systematic Modern Formation Theory background clashed with Leo, who did most of his formation work based on vibes. After a few hours of mutual frustration, they'd looked at each other and reached the same conclusion without speaking. So Leo asked Ella to help Vivian instead. She agreed. In exchange, Leo would go to a concert with her. He'd said yes without thinking. Ella was good company. A concert sounded fun. How bad could it be?

Later that week, Leo found himself standing outside the Benedum Center in downtown Pittsburgh, serving as Ella's personal photographer. Tonight the opera house played host to the most anticipated performance of the year: Superior Amarië performing The Magic Flute. Leo was looking forward to her performance as much as Ella. He had seen Amarië, the famous singer, once before, at the Exeter homecoming game his sophomore year.

However he should have known something was wrong when Ella insisted they arrive three hours early.

"The angle is wrong," Ella said.

"My left side needs more light."

"Your left side has plenty of light."

"Are you a professional photographer?"

"No."

"Then perhaps you should listen to someone who understands composition." Ella shifted two inches to the right.

"Again." Leo raised the phone and took another picture. She looked stunning. She had looked stunning in the previous forty-six photos as well. Ella examined the result. Her lips pressed into a thin line.

"The framing is acceptable. Your timing remains poor." During their months of formation practice, Ella had been demanding but fair. The woman standing before him now was something else entirely. Every shot earned a critique. Every angle required adjustment. Leo was starting to understand why Thad had developed a nervous tic around cameras.

"Do you understand how fortunate you are to be here?" Ella asked while reviewing another photo.

"Only 2, 800 tickets exist. This is more exclusive than the Met Gala. Even some Nascent Soul Lords were turned away from the ticket office. Amarië hasn't performed The Magic Flute in three years, and this will be her only performance this year."

"I understand."

"I don't think you do. The cultivation world's elite are inside that building right now, and you're complaining about taking pictures." No wonder Thad had refused to attend. The next two hours passed in a blur of photos, position adjustments, and increasingly creative criticism. Leo learned that his shadow fell at the wrong angle. That his breathing disrupted Ella's concentration. That his very presence somehow affected the ambient spiritual qi in ways that compromised image quality.

He was a Qi Refining cultivator with divine sense that rivaled Foundation Establishment masters. He had killed six Nascent Soul Lords. And here he was, being scolded because his shadow was three inches too far to the left. By the time they finally took their seats, Leo understood why professional photographers charged extra to deal with influencers. The auditorium was a marvel of pre-war architecture. Rows of red velvet seats descended toward a stage framed by golden curtains.

The ceiling depicted a vast celestial map, constellations picked out in formation lights.

"She's going to be magnificent," Ella whispered.

"Amarië plays the Queen of the Night. She appears only twice, but her arias are considered among the most demanding pieces in the operatic repertoire." The play started out pretty slow. Everything was in German. Leo couldn't figure out why opera singers insisted on singing in the original language rather than translating. He spent the first act trying to follow the plot through context clues and body language. A prince. A quest. A flute, presumably magic. He was pretty sure someone got kidnapped.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Then the stage went dark. Stars bloomed across the backdrop, thousands of pinprick lights spreading across black velvet. A crescent moon descended from the rafters, silver and luminous. Mist rolled across the stage floor. Amarië, playing the Queen of the Night, made her entrance. She descended from above, her black gown trailing starlight. Her pale skin glowed against the darkness.

Her violet hair cascaded past her shoulders. She opened her mouth. And sang. She began softly. A mother's lament. Unlike the rest of the performers, Amarië's singing needed no translation. Loss. Unbearable, crushing loss. A daughter stolen. A mother who had failed to protect what she loved most. Leo felt tears streaming down his face before he realized he was crying. Around him, the entire audience wept openly. A Nascent Soul Lord sobbed into his silk handkerchief.

Gold Core superiors clutched armrests with white-knuckled grips. Her spiritual singing technique carried emotion directly into his cultivation base. His dantian resonated with frequencies he had never experienced. He thought of his mother. He thought of every person who'd ever lost someone and kept walking anyway. The feelings weren't his, but they were true, and his body couldn't tell the difference. When the aria ended, silence filled the hall. Every cultivator sat frozen, tears drying on their cheeks.

No one applauded. No one could. The opera continued. Other performers took the stage. Although they were world class, Leo barely registered any of it. He was waiting. In the second act, the Queen of the Night returned. Her first note struck like a blade. Killing intent flooded the auditorium, suffocating and absolute. Ella's hand gripped his. Leo didn't pull away. Leo had faced Nascent Soul cultivators. He had died countless times in the Azure Profound Continent.

He knew what it felt like when someone was trying to kill you. This was worse. Because Amarië's killing intent carried a mother's fury, and that was something primal. Something older than cultivation. Something that made even the divine domain feel weak by comparison. The Queen of the Night sang of murder. Of vengeance. Each note carried intent. The intent to kill. The intent to destroy. The high notes arrived like lightning strikes. Leo felt his cultivation waver.

His spiritual qi retreated instinctively, trying to shield his dantian from the assault. Beside him, Ella trembled. Her grip on his hand had become painful. Her violet eyes were wide, fixed on the stage with terror and worship. Then silence. The auditorium was utterly still. Leo realized he could not move. His legs refused to respond. Around him, thousands of cultivators sat frozen, their bodies having responded to overwhelming killing intent in the most primal way possible.

He glanced at the seat a few rows to his left. Someone had wet themselves. The cleaning formation pulsed with activity. Ah. So that was what those were for. When the final curtain fell, the audience exploded into applause. Standing ovation. Then another. Then another. Amarië did not perform an encore. Secretly, Leo suspected many in the audience were relieved. Two arias had been enough. Three might have killed someone. He flexed his fingers, testing the feeling returning to his limbs.

His dantian still hummed with residual vibrations, like a tuning fork that had been struck too hard.

"We need photographs," Ella announced afterward.

"The lobby. The crowd. Everything must be documented." And just like that, the spell broke. Leo went from contemplating the meaning of terror to holding a phone at an angle while Ella adjusted her earrings. The post-opera photography session lasted another hour. Then his opportunity arrived.

"Ella! That dress is absolutely stunning!" Another influencer swept toward them.

"Miranda!" Ella's attention pivoted instantly.

"I saw your post from the red carpet." Leo stopped listening. He knew this was his only chance tonight. It was now or never. He took a step backward. Then another. Ella hadn't noticed. Leo pulled Moonrider from his dantian, he seized the day and launched into the sky. Freedom. The cold Pittsburgh air hit his face and he almost laughed. Three hours of photography, an emotional breakdown courtesy of a spiritual singer, and another hour of post-show content creation. He had earned this escape.

The city lights spread below him, the rivers gleaming dark and silver, and for the first time all evening he felt like he could breathe.

Leo decided to find Thad. After weeks of Leo's humblebragging about his flying sword skills, Thad had been pushing himself harder than ever. He was probably still at the Penn State Nittany Lions training center. He found Thad in the g-force conditioning chamber. The g-force machine was a massive centrifuge arm extending from a central pillar, its end terminating in a pressurized capsule. Inside, Thad's face pressed against the viewing window, features distorted by force. The arm began to slow.

The hatch popped open. Thad tumbled out, made it three steps, and vomited onto the well-drained floor. Eventually, he looked up.

"Leo? I thought you had a date with my sister."

"I thought you knew it wasn't a date." Leo's expression darkened.

"She didn't want a companion. She wanted a photographer."

"Oh no." Thad wiped his mouth.

"I was hoping the social media thing would have run its course by now."

"Three hours of pictures before the show. Another hour after. Every single shot criticized." Leo's eye twitched.

"After the fortieth time she told me I didn't understand composition, I left." Thad burst out laughing.

"I never expected it to happen here. Back home, Ella has dozens of suitors. Young masters who'll do anything she asks." He shook his head.

"This social media thing changed her completely."

"I don't know why Kim Yuna introduced her to it. It's like crack."

"Who's Kim Yuna?"

"Some girl who's convinced she's dating me. I've been trying to avoid her, but she keeps showing up." Thad gave him a look.

"What?"

"This Kim Yuna. She introduced Ella to Instagram?"

"Yes."

"And now Ella is so obsessed with being an influencer that she treats her dates like unpaid camera crews?" Leo's stomach dropped. The pieces clicked together with an almost audible snap, and he felt profoundly stupid for not seeing it sooner.

"You don't think she did it on purpose?"

"A girl who thinks she's dating you just happened to turn a potential love rival into a social media addict?" Thad raised an eyebrow.

"I've learned not to underestimate women." Leo stood in silence, processing implications he did not enjoy. Kim Yuna's bright smile and friendly manner replayed in his memory, and every interaction took on a new and uncomfortable shade.

"Anyway." Thad gestured toward the g-force machine.

"Got any tips?"

"Breathing technique. Tense your lower body. Short, sharp breaths." Thad nodded.

"Show me. Get in the machine." Leo recognized the look in Thad's eyes. The expression that preceded every instance of shared suffering.

"You just want company in misery."

"I want a demonstration. For educational purposes." Leo smiled.

"Sure." He walked to the machine and settled into the restraint harness. While Thad watched from the control panel, Leo casually stretched his arms overhead, using the motion to cover Moonrider's materialization from his dantian. The sword slipped behind the seat cushion, its Tier 4 g-force bleeding formations already active. He felt a small twinge of guilt. Very small. Barely worth mentioning, really.

"Ready," he called. The machine spun up. Seven g's pressed against Leo's body. Behind him, Moonrider's formations bled the force away into harmless spiritual energy. He breathed normally. Ten g's. His hair didn't move. Fifteen g's. He examined his fingernails. The machine reached maximum speed and held for thirty seconds. Leo felt mild pressure, like a heavy blanket on his chest. Nothing more.

As the arm decelerated, Leo faked a yawn and stretched again, slipping Moonrider back into his dantian before the hatch opened. He stepped out looking exactly as fresh as when he stepped in. Thad looked at Leo, then at his vomit stain on the floor, then back at Leo. The distance between them had never felt wider.

Leo's escape lasted until approximately 7: 23 the next morning. He was enjoying a peaceful breakfast in the Institute cafeteria when his phone buzzed. Then buzzed again. Then started buzzing continuously like an angry hornet trapped in his pocket. The first message was from Arthur: Kid. What did you do. The second was from Mike, a link to the New York Post. Something had gone seriously wrong. Leo clicked it.

GHOSTED AT THE OPERA: Catacombs Princess Arrives With Mystery Date, Leaves Alone Looking MISERABLE The article featured a side-by-side comparison. On the left, Ella arriving at the Benedum Center, radiant in her designer gown, Leo visible at the edge of the frame carrying her handbag. On the right, Ella leaving the venue alone, her expression suggesting someone had insulted her entire ancestral line. The comments section was already a disaster. Leo's phone buzzed again. This time it was a text from Thad. Run.

He considered it. He genuinely considered it. Moonrider could have him airborne in two seconds. Pittsburgh was a big city. He could hide in the Allegheny National Forest for a few days, live off granola bars until things cooled down. The cafeteria doors slammed open. Too late. Ella stood in the entrance, her violet eyes burning with a fury she had personally learned from the Queen of the Night. In her hand, she clutched her phone like a weapon.

"Leo Chen." The cafeteria went silent. A formation tutor quietly gathered his tray and retreated toward the emergency exit. Leo envied that man's freedom.

"I can explain," Leo said.

"Explain?" Ella's voice froze over.

"Explain why I had to take my own photographs for the remainder of the evening? Explain why you vanished for our scheduled post-performance content session? Explain why I woke up to seventeen messages from my management team asking why I looked, and I quote, 'like a sad puppy abandoned at a gas station'?"

"That's a very specific quote."

"It was from Page Six." Leo held up his hands.

"Look. This is actually good news." Ella's eye twitched.

"Good news."

"No publicity is bad publicity." Leo pulled up his phone and navigated to her Instagram profile.

"Check your follower count." Ella's expression flickered. She glanced at her own phone. Then looked again.

"That is... a significant increase."

"Sympathy drives engagement." Leo nodded sagely, as if he hadn't just invented this theory on the spot.

"People love a sympathetic figure. The heartbroken princess. The beauty who was wronged. It writes itself."

"It was not a date."

"Of course it wasn't. Think of it as pure engagement bait." Ella stared at her still increasing follower count. Leo watched the calculation happening behind her eyes. Fury versus metrics. Pride versus followers. He held his breath.

"This does not excuse your behavior."

"But it does explain why your latest Reel has twice the usual likes." A long silence stretched between them. Ella's fury visibly warred with her addiction to engagement metrics.

"We will discuss this further," she said finally.

"After I post a story about the emotional journey of being ghosted." She swept out of the cafeteria, already composing captions on her phone. Leo let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He had survived.

At least the whole saga had been worth it. In November, during the USAMO, Vivian and Ella ended up performing extremely well. Vivian was the only test taker who received a perfect score. Soon it was December, and it was time for the IMO. This year it was held in Berlin, East Germany, behind the Iron Curtain.