"If your strength was even half as great as the bullshit that comes out of your mouth," Hanyuan said, not even bothering to look up from the dummy, "then you might actually have a chance of backing up that attitude."
Xueling's face flushed a deep crimson, her fingers twitching near the hilt of her steel sword. She looked like she wanted to strike him then and there, but the presence of the Clan Elders lingering nearby kept her blade in its sheath. With a furious stamp of her foot, she whirled around and stormed away, the wind of her departure whipping her long robes.
Hanyuan didn't watch her go. He simply reset his stance and thrust the wooden spear again. He knew the fundamental truth of the Martial Heaven World: justice and logic belonged to the strong. If you were powerful enough, your word was law; if you were weak, even your breath was an insult to others. The only way to silence Xueling—and anyone else who looked down on him—was through absolute, overwhelming cultivation.
Dong! Dong!
The heavy resonance of the clan's Great Bell echoed through the training grounds twice. It was the signal for honored guests.
Training ground activities slowed as the older disciples turned their heads toward the main gates. A procession of nearly twenty riders on chestnut-colored stallions galloped into the courtyard, surrounding a large, ornate carriage decorated with crimson silk and gold leaf.
Emblazoned on the banners was the Crest of the Great Flame—the symbol of the Chi Clan. Along with the Bai, Ma, and Li clans, they held the balance of power in Spirit Springs City, but the Chi and Bai had shared a bond of friendship for generations.
The carriage halted, and a man with short, spikey red hair and a rugged scar running across his right eye stepped out. He moved with a predatory grace that radiated power—Chi Ming, the Patriarch of the Chi Clan.
Beside him, a boy leaped down from one of the horses. He had the same vibrant red hair as his father but possessed striking, bright blue eyes that scanned the crowd with excitement. This was Chi Yanfeng, Hanyuan's only close friend outside of the Bai Clan.
"Haha! Chi Ming!" Bai Feng's booming laugh signaled his arrival. "Welcome, old friend! I've already prepared the banquet. Come, let the children have their fun here while we discuss more serious matters."
Chi Yanfeng didn't wait for a second invitation. He spotted Hanyuan and bolted across the training ground, his laughter echoing. He slammed a hand onto Hanyuan's shoulder, grinning wide.
"Hanyuan! I was going crazy waiting for my father to finish his business so we could visit," Yanfeng said breathlessly. "Tell me quick—how was your Potential Testing Day? Did the steel break under your greatness, or what?"
Hanyuan laughed, genuinely glad to see a friendly face. "Nothing so dramatic. I ended up with a 5-star Lightning and 6-star Ice affinity. A Dual Affinity."
Yanfeng's eyes went wide, and he let out a low whistle. "A Dual Affinity? Whoa! That's incredibly rare! No wonder you're out here stabbing wood so early. I'm almost jealous."
"What about you?" Hanyuan asked.
"7-star Fire affinity," Yanfeng said, puffing out his chest with a playful wink. "The Chi clan blood runs hot. My father nearly drank the cellar dry celebrating."
"Tsk. I can't believe you'd have the same talent level as me, you mongrel."
The friendly atmosphere soured instantly as Xueling appeared from behind a stone pillar, looking at Yanfeng with utter disdain. She clearly hadn't forgotten the 'humiliation' from earlier and was looking for a new target.
Yanfeng blinked, his brow furrowing as he looked at the hostile girl. "Who's this? And why is she talking like her tea was poisoned?"
Hanyuan sighed, shaking his head. "Don't mind her, Brother Yanfeng. She just has some severe brain damage. It's a tragic clan secret."
Yanfeng's eyes rounded in genuine surprise. He looked back at Xueling with a look of sudden, profound pity. "Oh... I see. I had no idea. My apologies, I shouldn't have been rude to someone with such a condition."
Xueling's mouth hung open for a split second before her face turned a terrifying shade of purple. The realization that they were mocking her—and that Yanfeng seemed to actually believe Hanyuan's lie—made her blood boil.
"YOU!" she shrieked, her voice reaching a pitch that made nearby disciples winced. "I will break your pride and that stupid grin at the next Clan Gathering! Don't think your family names will protect you in the arena!"
She turned on her heel and sprinted away, likely to find a training dummy she could pretend was Hanyuan's head.
Yanfeng watched her go, then leaned closer to Hanyuan. "Is the brain damage contagious? Should we stand further back?"
Hanyuan just grinned and picked up his spear. "Only if you listen to her for more than five minutes. Come on, since you're here, show me some of your Skill, I need a real workout."
"Brother Yanfeng, be careful!"
Hanyuan didn't wait for a reply. He lunged forward, the wooden spear becoming a blur. Yanfeng's playful expression vanished, replaced by a sharp focus. He snatched a wooden saber from the rack with a practiced flick of his wrist and brought it up just in time.
Clack!
The wood groaned under the impact. Hanyuan didn't retreat; he shifted his weight, his left hand stabilizing the shaft while his right hand gripped the end of the spear. With a sudden burst of strength, he thrust forward with his full force. Yanfeng adjusted his stance to parry the straight blow, but at the last microsecond, Hanyuan's right wrist snapped in a tight rotation.
The spear-tip didn't stay straight; it corkscrewed through the air, sliding over the top of the saber and thudding heavily into Yanfeng's chest.
Yanfeng stumbled back three steps, coughing as he rubbed his sternum. "Ack! Your spear techniques are really nothing to laugh at, Brother Hanyuan! That rotation was tricky."
"The spear is the king of all weapons for a reason," Hanyuan teased, though he was breathing just as hard.
For the next thirty minutes, the two youths were exchanging Blows fiercely. They used every ounce of physical strength they had. Wood clashed against wood until their hands were blistered, their shins were bruised from low sweeps, and their robes were soaked through with sweat.
Finally, both of them collapsed onto the grass, their chests heaving in unison.
"I'm beat," Yanfeng wheezed, then a mischievous glint returned to his blue eyes. He looked around to make sure no instructors were watching and leaned in close to Hanyuan's ear. "Hey... I stole a little something from my old man's private stash before we left. Want a taste?"
Hanyuan's eyes widened. "Wine? You're crazy!"
"It's Spirit Wine! It helps with blood circulation!" Yanfeng whispered, reaching into the folds of his red robe to pull out a small, exquisite ceramic flask.
Just as his fingers brushed the cork, a shadow loomed over them. A hand reached down with lightning speed and plucked the flask from Yanfeng's grasp.
Both boys jumped, their hearts leaping into their throats. Standing behind them was Elder Ling, casually tossing the flask in the air.
"E-Elder Ling!" Yanfeng squeaked, his hands trembling as he scrambled to his feet. "Please don't tell my father! He'll skin me alive!"
Elder Ling didn't answer. Instead, he popped the cork. A rich, aromatic scent of fermented spirit herbs filled the air. The Elder took a long, deep swig, his eyes fluttering in appreciation.
"Good wine!" he declared, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. He looked down at the terrified Yanfeng and gave a small, sly grin. "Brat, I'll stay silent and won't tell a soul about this. But... this wine is mine now. Consider it a 'tuition fee' for letting you clutter up my training ground."
Elder Ling turned and strolled away, humming a jaunty tune and taking another sip as he disappeared toward the Elder's Pavilion.
"Damn geezer," Yanfeng slumped back down, looking completely dejected. "I worked so hard to sneak that out. I only wanted one sip!"
Hanyuan couldn't help it—he burst out laughing, the sound echoing across the grounds.
That evening, when Patriarchs Bai Feng and Chi Ming came to the training grounds to collect their sons, they didn't find them practicing. Instead, they found the two boys curled up together on a straw mat in the corner of a rest shed, fast asleep. Their faces were smeared with dirt, their bodies were covered in dark bruises from the day's dueling, and they hadn't even bothered to wash before drifting off into an exhausted slumber.
Bai Feng looked down at his son and felt a pang of pride, while Chi Ming let out a huff, though a smile played under his red beard.
"They've worked hard," Chi Ming noted. "The future of our clans looks bright, old friend."
"As long as they don't kill each other first," Bai Feng joked softly.
The next morning came far too early for Yanfeng. Despite his pleading and whining to stay another few days, his father was firm.
"You have your own tempering to do at home, brat," Chi Ming said, hoisting Yanfeng onto a horse.
"I'll see you at the Year-End Competition, Hanyuan!" Yanfeng shouted, waving frantically as the Chi Clan procession began to move out. "Don't let that 'brain-damaged' girl beat you!"
Hanyuan stood at the gates, waving back until the dust from the horses settled.