The grand hall of the Great Xia Empire buzzed with the energy of a reality TV show reunion. Emperor Xia, perched on his dragon throne, massaged his temples as his ministers bickered like toddlers fighting over the last chicken nugget. News of the Qin family's alliance with the Heavenly Heart City—and the fact that eight-year-old prodigy Qin Feng had just humiliated the legendary Lin San with his *Sky-Cleaving Sword Dance* (which, frankly, sounded like a rejected K-pop dance move)—had turned the court into a circus.
"The Qins are practically spitting in our imperial tea!" roared General Zhang, a man whose beard could double as a bird's nest. "We should crush them now! Send the army! Unleash the cavalry! Maybe even…*tax their tea imports*!"
Councilor Li, a man so thin he probably moonlighted as a noodle, rolled his eyes. "Oh yes, because invading two powerhouse factions will go *so* smoothly. Next, you'll suggest we fight a bear with a toothpick. Have you forgotten the Yin-Yue Dynasty? Those reformed lunatics have *two* new Saint Children! They're basically Marvel supervillains with better outfits!"
The emperor sighed. His ministers had two modes: "Let's start a war!" and "Let's write a strongly worded letter!" Meanwhile, the Yin-Yue Dynasty was out there recruiting geniuses like they were assembling an Avengers roster. If only the imperial family had its own prodigy—someone who could, say, invent a time machine or at least a decent dumpling recipe.
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**Meanwhile, at the Qin Estate…**
Eight-year-old Qin Feng sat cross-legged in his courtyard, glowing like a human glowstick. After breaking through to the Transcendent Realm, he'd maxed out his *33 Layers of Heavenly Creation* technique…or so he'd thought. Turns out, Layer 3 required *another* 30,000 villain points. "System, this is extortion!" he grumbled, activating a month's worth of "Genius Aura" (which, for the record, smelled suspiciously of expired bubblegum).
Elder Ten, the family's resident cryptkeeper-turned-babysitter, watched in awe. "Kid's healing faster than my ex-wife's credit score!" he muttered. Qin Feng's skin now regenerated like a starfish's arm—a handy trick, given how often his little brother, Qin Hao, "accidentally" set things on fire.
*BONG! BONG! BONG!*
Emergency bells shook the estate. Servants scrambled, warriors sharpened swords, and someone's pet parrot screamed, "WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!" Qin Feng smirked. Time to find his brother—and by "find," he meant "invent a reason to spank that tiny troublemaker."
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**Qin War Council: Chaos Edition**
In the main hall, Patriarch Qin Tian addressed his 13 branch leaders, dubbed the "Unlucky 13" by anyone who'd survived their meetings. The emperor had officially declared war, which was *so* rude, given the Qin-Heavenly Heart alliance's killer merch collab.
"Let's fight!" thundered Branch Leader Wu, a man built like a fridge with anger issues. "I'll carve the emperor's name into my sword! Or…y'know, his face!"
Branch Leader Chen, the group's resident nerd, adjusted his glasses. "Fighting now is like bringing a spoon to a dragon fight. The Yin-Yue Dynasty will swoop in and turn us all into barbecue!"
Patriarch Qin Tian silenced them with a glare. "The emperor's scared we'll replace him—which, duh, obviously. But he's got a point. My boys are basically superhero origin stories waiting to happen."
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**Qin Feng's Existential Crisis (With Snacks)**
Qin Feng wandered the suddenly gloomy estate, munching on spirit-enhancing walnuts. "So…we're doomed, huh?" he mused. The alliance had half the empire, but the emperor had the other half plus a loyalty card at every major clan. Even if they won, the Yin-Yue Dynasty would show up like raccoons at a trash buffet.
Then it hit him: *Wait, I'm the villain here!* Villains thrived in chaos! Maybe he could "borrow" his brother's legendary至尊骨 (Supreme Bone)—a plan that definitely wouldn't backfire.
"Sorry, little bro," Qin Feng chuckled, plotting his next move. "But if Disney taught me anything, it's that family betrayal makes great theater!"
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**Meanwhile, in the Yin-Yue Dynasty…**
Two shadowy figures grinned as they watched the drama unfold via a mystical orb (think Crystal Ball™ meets TikTok). "Let them fight," purred Saint Child #1, adjusting her battle tiara. "By the time they're done, we'll be serving 'I Told You So' cakes at their funerals."
Saint Child #2 nodded, summoning a hellhound puppy. "And someone fetch me popcorn. This is better than *Game of Thrones*!"