The night before was peaceful.

After finishing a quiet dinner, Leo Aetherwind finally lay down, his body sinking into the mattress like a warrior resting after a long campaign.

His mind was strangely calm — no schemes, no hostility, no system notifications.

Just silence.

For the first time in days, he allowed himself to breathe.

He drifted into sleep, wrapped in the soft rhythm of the night wind brushing past his window. In that tranquil darkness, Leo felt the weight of countless destinies waiting to move, yet he paid them no heed. For now, dreams were his only companions.

When he finally woke, sunlight had already spilled across the horizon. The scent of morning dew hung faintly in the air as he stepped outside, his steps light, his mind sharp.

He began walking slowly down the path near his residence — the same path that curved around the academy park. Birds chirped lazily in the distance, and the rustling of leaves whispered secrets only nature knew. Leo's golden eyes gleamed faintly beneath the warm light.

Then suddenly, his gaze stiffened.

Not far away, in that same park, Leo noticed a figure that instantly triggered a strange unease within his mind — Lu Xio.

That ordinary-looking boy, with nothing but a simple aura around him, was strolling casually, hands in pockets, as if the world owed him destiny itself.

Leo's instinct screamed.

His heart twitched not from fear but from recognition.

Something about that scene — the bright morning, the calm park, the "ordinary boy" — it felt too deliberate, too scripted.

And then, it happened.

An old man, dressed in running clothes, was jogging on the opposite side of the path. His pace was steady, but suddenly his steps faltered. His hand clutched his chest.

A low gasp escaped his lips — followed by a violent cough that sprayed crimson into the air.

Within a heartbeat, the old man collapsed, the sound of his fall echoing across the silent park.

And where did he fall?

Exactly beside Lu Xio.

Leo stopped walking. His lips twitched into a smirk that carried both disbelief and mockery.

He could almost hear a narrator in his head describing the "heroic coincidence."

> "Ah, what a classic setup," Leo murmured under his breath, eyes narrowing in sarcastic amusement. "A wealthy and influential old man collapses beside a 'pure-hearted' young man. How many times have I read this trope?"

His laughter was low, ironic.

He knew this pattern far too well — the protagonist helps the old man, gains his trust, and is soon rewarded with blessings beyond measure.

The man turns out to be a bigshot in business or politics, perhaps even the owner of a hidden conglomerate.

And of course, he has a beautiful granddaughter destined to join the protagonist's so-called "harem."

> "Truly, fate writes the same story for every fool," Leo muttered with a sigh. "But unfortunately for them, this stage already has an actor who rewrote destiny."

He adjusted his collar, his eyes flashing with silent contempt.

Though Leo wasn't interested in "stealing" every protagonist's opportunity, he had long mastered the art of understanding their paths — how they moved, when they struck, and what triggered their growth.

And right now, Lu Xio was walking directly into one of those golden pathways of fate.

Leo's lips curved slightly. He could not resist the urge to witness it — or perhaps, interrupt it.

The faint morning breeze brushed his hair as he walked forward, his steps unhurried but deliberate.

Lu Xio, meanwhile, was kneeling beside the fallen old man, panic flashing in his eyes. The crowd had not gathered yet; only the birds were silent witnesses.

But before Lu Xio could even extend his hand, a firm, calm voice broke the moment.

"Step aside," Leo said coolly, his tone neither loud nor soft, yet it carried authority that could not be ignored.

Lu Xio turned, startled. "Y-You? Leo?"

Leo didn't respond immediately. He crouched down beside the old man, examining him closely.

His face was pale, breathing shallow, sweat glistening across his forehead. It was clear he was having a heart attack.

Leo quickly supported the old man, moving him gently to the nearby bench. Every motion was precise, almost clinical.

The few joggers who had noticed now began to approach, murmuring among themselves.

"Someone call an ambulance!" a woman shouted.

"Isn't that Mr. Shen?" another whispered.

"Yes! He's a political giant! Even overseas, he's well known!"

Leo's sharp ears caught that last sentence.

A faint chuckle escaped his lips. So the script was accurate after all.

He looked sideways — and saw Lu Xio's pupils trembling, filled with greed and ambition rather than empathy.

Leo's smile deepened.

> "The Dao of Heaven tests all men," he thought mockingly, "but it seems the 'Chosen' are tested with gold."

As he stabilized the old man's breathing, Leo reflected inwardly.

He knew how easily small events like this could reshape destinies. In novels, a single act of kindness could grant the hero a lifetime of backing.

But in reality — or rather, his reality — it was all a matter of calculation.

He remembered a line from an ancient Chinese maxim:

> "Heaven's way has no favorites; it always sides with the virtuous."

And yet, Leo smirked at that very thought.

"Virtue?" he whispered to himself. "If Heaven truly rewarded virtue, half the heroes I've met would already be dead."

The crowd thickened as murmurs spread. Some recognized the old man's face; others merely watched curiously.

Lu Xio's heart raced — not with compassion, but excitement. He clenched his fists.

This is my chance! he thought. If I can save this man, he'll surely owe me everything!

Leo caught the gleam in his eyes and sighed softly.

"Predictable," he said under his breath.

Another old Indian saying flickered in his memory:

> "The mind of man runs toward desire as the flame seeks fuel."

Lu Xio was already preparing to act, ready to push Leo aside and take credit for the rescue. But Leo didn't move yet. He simply observed — calm, silent, like a predator who already knew how this scene would end.

The air grew tense.

Every heartbeat, every shallow breath of the old man felt amplified. The faint rustle of the leaves above seemed to echo the rhythm of fate itself.

In that moment, Leo felt both detached and deeply amused.

"Classic," he whispered again.

He knew the cycle of destiny had begun spinning once more — yet this time, he was watching from above, not caught within it.

Leo remained beside the fallen old man, his hand lightly supporting the man's back as he examined his pulse. His eyes were calm — cold, even — while the chaos of murmurs around him grew louder.

He could hear the whispers spreading.

"Isn't that Mr. Shen? The one from the political committee?"

"I heard he controls multiple international trade routes…"

"He's one of the wealthiest men in the region!"

Each voice added fuel to the atmosphere, and Leo's eyes flickered slightly — not with greed, but with amusement.

On the other side, Lu Xio's expression changed entirely.

The moment he heard that the old man was influential — powerful both politically and financially — his earlier panic turned into opportunity.

Inside his heart, a storm began to brew.

This… this is my chance! he thought, his fists clenching tightly. If I save him, he'll surely reward me.

Maybe… maybe even his granddaughter will—

The thought stopped abruptly when Leo's voice interrupted him like a cold blade slicing through silk.

"Don't just stand there drooling over fantasies. His condition's serious," Leo said without even glancing at him. "Move aside if you don't know what to do."

Lu Xio flinched. A trace of irritation flashed across his eyes.

He took a step forward, blocking Leo's hand.

"I saw him first," Lu Xio said righteously, his tone filled with feigned heroism. "So I should be the one to help him!"

Leo raised an eyebrow slowly, his gaze piercing through the boy's mask.

"You saw him first?" His voice was calm, but the mockery beneath it was like thunder hiding behind clouds. "What is this, a competition?

This is a man's life at stake, not some cheap drama where whoever touches first wins the prize."

Lu Xio's face stiffened, but he refused to back down. The scent of ambition clouded his reason.

"Still," Lu Xio insisted, "I have to—"

"Enough."

Leo's voice carried authority that made several onlookers flinch unconsciously. Even Lu Xio stepped back slightly.

Leo exhaled slowly and continued, his words echoing faintly:

> "When one's heart is clouded by greed, even compassion becomes a disguise."

It was not from arrogance, but a lesson learned from countless encounters with so-called "protagonists" who claimed righteousness yet acted from selfish motives.

He placed two fingers on the old man's wrist, measuring the faint pulse. His brows knitted slightly. The man's heartbeat was erratic — dangerously unstable.

Leo pressed gently at a few pressure points on the man's chest, slowing his breathing.

The old man's face twitched slightly — still unconscious, but the pain on his features eased.

The crowd gasped softly, realizing Leo knew what he was doing.

Lu Xio, however, only felt his teeth grinding. Every second that Leo acted, the opportunity he imagined was slipping away.

He clenched his fists tighter. No… I can't let him take this chance from me!

He leaned forward, trying to interrupt. "Let me help!"

Leo turned his head, and his golden eyes gleamed like a blade reflecting sunlight.

"I request you, Lu Xio," he said sternly, each word deliberate, "to forget our past grudges for a moment. This is a matter of life and death. You may chase opportunities later — but right now, let me handle this before he dies in your hands."

His voice was neither pleading nor arrogant — simply firm, resolute.

For a moment, even Lu Xio hesitated.

The people around them murmured in agreement.

> "Yes, let him handle it."

"That boy seems to know what he's doing."

But Lu Xio's pride wouldn't allow it. He clenched his jaw.

"Don't act like you're the only one who cares!" he snapped. "You always think you're above others, Leo! You—"

Leo didn't even respond. His gaze shifted back to the old man, ignoring the noise.

> "When the wise tend to the fallen, fools argue about credit."

— Ancient Chinese Saying

Leo's focus remained absolute, his hand pressing gently against the old man's wrist once again. His inner thoughts, however, were calm and faintly ironic.

Classic. Absolutely classic.

He could almost predict every word coming from Lu Xio's mouth. Every tone of righteousness, every ounce of ego wrapped in self-justification — it was the protagonist's usual performance before fate rewarded him.

But this time, fate had already rewritten the script.

---

Meanwhile, across the city — Lu Ruolan's side of the story unfolded like a shadow creeping at dusk.

That night, she sat quietly in her small room, her fingers trembling slightly as she clutched her phone. Her heart beat unevenly.

She couldn't shake off the haunting memory of those thugs who had harassed her before. Their words, their mocking laughter — they still echoed faintly in her ears.

She tried to distract herself, turning on the small lamp beside her bed, but her hands were cold. Fear was a silent poison.

When she finally gathered courage to step outside, the street was dimly lit — the kind of darkness where even moonlight hesitated to fall.

Her steps were light, careful. Every sound — the creak of a gate, the barking of a dog in the distance — made her heart race.

And then, just as she feared… she saw them.

Three men, leaning lazily against the wall of a faraway street. Their expressions smug, their eyes glinting under the faint light.

One of them nudged the other. "There she is."

Her breath caught. Her fingers tightened around her bag.

"Please… please, not again," she whispered under her breath, almost praying.

> "O God of Dharma, protect those whose hearts are pure and whose steps are uncertain."

— Ancient Indian Invocation

She wanted to run — but her legs trembled.

Unknown to her, however, unseen eyes were already watching from the shadows nearby.

On the rooftop of a building opposite the street, dark silhouettes stood — motionless, silent, cloaked in the faint shimmer of night.

The Shadow Force.

Leo's personal operatives, loyal beyond measure.

Through their comm-link, a faint voice came.

"Target Ruolan located. Thugs approaching from east side. Orders, sir?"

The response came instantly through the channel, cold and commanding — Leo's voice.

> "Do not interfere yet," he said. "Observe. If they move a single step closer, disable them — but quietly. Let no one see."

His tone carried no emotion, no hesitation.

For Leo, this was not just protection. It was observation — the mapping of destiny's next ripple.

While one protagonist quarreled over saving an old man, another innocent soul trembled under the shadow of fear — and Leo stood as the silent force balancing both extremes.

He was not a hero. Nor was he a villain. He was simply — aware.

> "In every age," he recalled an old Sanskrit phrase,

"The wise act without attachment; they serve without seeking reward."

Back in the park, the faint wail of an approaching ambulance finally echoed.

The crowd began to part, murmuring relief.

Lu Xio stood still, his fists clenched, his pride wounded.

Leo had not only taken control of the situation — he had done so effortlessly, without seeking attention, without even looking at the cameras that now recorded the scene.

That calm composure — that unshakable demeanor — was something Lu Xio could neither understand nor tolerate.

Inside Leo's mind, however, there was only quiet amusement.

He knew this incident would be remembered differently by both of them.

To the world, Leo had simply helped a man in need.

To Lu Xio, it was the moment destiny was stolen.

But Leo didn't care for perspectives. He only cared for outcomes.

> "The strong do not chase fate," he thought coldly. "They choose it."

His gaze turned distant for a moment — toward the direction where Lu Ruolan's house stood miles away. He didn't know yet what awaited her that night, but his instincts told him darkness was already moving.

He slipped his hands into his pockets, eyes half-lidded.

> "In this world," he murmured softly, quoting another Chinese proverb,

"the clever man drinks from the stream while the fool argues over who owns the river."

The irony of fate made him smile faintly as the ambulance sirens faded, and the sun dipped lower into the horizon.

Somewhere else, under that same dimming sky, Lu Ruolan whispered one final prayer, and the Shadow Force watched silently — waiting for Leo's next command.

And in that fragile balance between chaos and order, the story of fate continued to twist…

*"He who understands the pattern of Heaven may not always win,

but he will never be surprised by what comes next."*

— Ancient Proverb

---

End of Chapter

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