"Xu Han was… defeated?"
The words whispered through the martial hall like a plague, spreading disbelief from mouth to mouth. Dozens of disciples rubbed their eyes as if they had all hallucinated the same thing.
The sect's most dazzling genius, beaten by the trash who couldn't even form a proper Qi cycle.
Xu Han groaned from the shattered pillar, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, eyes filled with panic and hatred. His pride screamed for him to rise, but his body betrayed him, trembling under the lingering burn of crimson-black flames.
The silence broke when a derisive laugh rang out.
"Hmph. So the cripple managed to bark louder than usual today."
Lu Tian turned his gaze toward the voice. It belonged to a woman in pale blue robes, her beauty sharp as a blade, her eyes colder than ice. Memory supplied her name—Lan Xue, daughter of the Lan Clan, the first of his ten unwilling fiancées.
She folded her arms, looking at him with disdain."Do you think defeating Xu Han once makes you worthy of standing beside us? Pathetic. A dog dressed in tiger's skin is still a dog."
Her words stung worse than any strike. Not because they hurt Lu Tian, but because he saw the effect on the disciples. Heads nodded. Sneers returned. Already, they convinced themselves his victory was a fluke.
So that's how it is, huh? Even after showing them this power, they'll cling to the story that I'm trash.
Lu Tian smirked faintly. Good. Let them. Underestimation is the sharpest blade.
Another fiancée stepped forward, this one draped in crimson silks, her beauty fiery and fierce—Zhao Mei, famed for her talent with the Flame Sect's arts. She eyed the faint glow lingering in Lu Tian's hand."That technique… it was Xu Han's Azure Flame Palm, but twisted. You stole it, didn't you?"
Gasps rippled through the hall. Even the elders shifted uneasily.
Lu Tian tilted his head. "If you want to call it stealing, fine. But in cultivation, the only truth is strength. The strong take. The weak lose. Isn't that what your masters always teach you?"
His words landed like thunder, leaving the hall speechless.
For a brief moment, Lu Tian felt it—the pull. His meridian pulsed, and threads of faint light connected him to the women who glared at him most fiercely. Ten threads. Ten bonds. Each one weak now, fraying with disdain, but alive.
He didn't fully understand it yet. But instinct whispered:
The deeper the bond, the greater the devouring.
Before he could pursue the thought, an elder's voice cut through the tension.
"Enough!"
Elder Wu, his gray beard trembling with rage, stepped forward. "Lu Tian, whatever strange trick you've discovered, know this: arrogance will not save you. You've humiliated our sect's genius, and for that, you will answer in the next Inner Sect Tournament!"
The disciples roared approval. Xu Han's broken glare burned with hatred, already imagining revenge.
But Lu Tian only bowed slightly, a calm smile on his lips."Good. Then let the tournament decide whether I'm trash… or the one who will devour the heavens."
The words echoed through the hall, striking every heart with equal parts fear and fascination.