Since the night of that internal forging, Chen Huang's daily rhythm had fundamentally changed. The failure that once clung like a dark shadow was now just dust of the past.
His cultivation, which had been frozen for years, began to show signs of life, slowly but surely creeping upward, like a sprout finding the sunlight. Every circulation of Dou Qi in his meridians felt denser, more willful.
The sun shone high, piercing through Wang Nan's chamber window. On the simple wooden table, a warm lunch was served. Chen Huang sat down, his body radiating a new aura of calm. He ate the food provided by the Village Chief with honest enthusiasm.
Every mouthful of rice and crispy side dish was enjoyed with gratitude. He ate heartily, his jaw moving rhythmically, producing soft chewing sounds that broke the silence of the house. This was no longer just nutritional intake; this was a celebration of returning potential.
Wang Nan, the owner of the house, was not present. This morning, he had only managed to inform Chen Huang that he had 'important business' to attend to. Chen Huang did not react with excessive attention. He had heard that excuse many times and had learned to respect the private space and freedom of time Wang Nan provided.
"Ah..." A sigh of satisfaction escaped Chen Huang's lips. His hands, now more muscular and defined, rose to wipe away the remnants of food clinging to the corner of his mouth—a small gesture showing simple contentment.
"Alright, it looks like I'll go looking for herbs again; maybe I can find a good plant."
He rose from his wooden bench. His movements were fluid, efficient, far from the stiffness he once possessed. He walked towards the door; the gently creaking wooden hinge welcomed his steps.
After the door opened, he stood briefly on the threshold, inhaling the air that caressed his face. The distinctive air of Green Leaf Village—a mixture of wet earth, forest dew, and wild flowers—filled his lungs.
Chen Huang stepped out, traversing the village road with calm, measured steps. Every footfall felt solid, grounded. He enjoyed the warm midday atmosphere, watching life flow around him: farmers tilling fields with their silver hoes, small merchants busy with their wares, children running in the dirt road. A deep panorama of peace.
However, that tranquility was suddenly torn apart.
From a distance, rough and familiar voices arrived. Several boys Chen Huang's age, or slightly older, called out to him with an all-too-familiar tone of insult.
"Hey, you damn trash!"
Chen Huang turned his head. His movement was calm, merely rotating his neck, with no agitation in his muscles. He recognized the figure leading the gang, Shan Feng, the naughty boy who had always hurled the sharpest mockery since their childhood.
Shan Feng was always bold because, at that time, his superior strength over the stagnant Chen Huang gave him a license to act as he pleased.
Shan Feng stood haughtily, his chest slightly puffed out. He often flaunted his 6-star Dou Zhi Qi to his friends. Several times, when his anger peaked, he had beaten Chen Huang, who was previously stuck at 5-star Dou Zhi Qi.
Chen Huang looked at them, his gaze containing no anger, but rather cold boredom—as if he were looking at a stain on the floor that he immediately wanted to sweep away. His look seemed to say, 'I don't want to see you.'
This passive act of disregard actually ignited Shan Feng's fuse. His face turned red, his jaw muscles tightened in frustration.
One of his friends, a boy with a thin posture, stepped forward, his movement slightly nervous but driven by group courage. "Hey, trash! Where is your respect for the mighty Shan Feng?!"
Chen Huang ignored the voice. He had already turned halfway, his intention clear: to distance himself from this trivial disturbance. He did not waste time answering obsolete provocation.
However, before he could complete his turn, Shan Feng, feeling his dignity trampled, lunged forward. It was a crude movement, driven by anger, not skill.
His right fist swung in a wide arc. A pale, murky green Dou Qi enveloped his clenched hand—a manifestation of excessive and uncontrolled energy.
"How dare you ignore me!"
In that decisive split second, Chen Huang moved his body as minimally as possible. His hip shifted less than an inch to the side, his left shoulder rotated lightly, and his head tilted slightly. It was a maneuver as subtle as a breath of wind, using energy only to shift his center of gravity, not to evade frontally.
Shan Feng's attack missed. His Dou Qi fist merely cleaved the empty air where Chen Huang had stood a second ago. Shan Feng stumbled slightly from his wasted momentum.
The expression on his face changed completely from anger to cold astonishment. He couldn't believe it. This was the first time his powerful attack had missed Chen Huang. Several of his watching friends also showed widened eyes, jaws open in disbelieving silence.
Inside Chen Huang's mind, Yue Chan's voice sounded, her tone disdainful and superior, like a teacher pointing out a fundamental mistake. "Too much movement; he completely fails to control his Dou Qi, it's wasted along with his missed attack."
Chen Huang, still standing in a casual stance, simply scratched his head. His action was an extreme demonstration of nonchalance amidst a tense situation.
"Shan Feng, I don't have time to play with you. If you want to fight, believe it or not... the me now can take you down with a single attack." Chen Huang's sentence was spoken in a flat tone, yet its weight felt heavier than precious metal.
Under Chen Huang's gaze, which now radiated calm, Shan Feng's friends were suddenly struck by a deep sense of fear. They looked at each other, then wordlessly turned and fled, their steps sounding panicked on the dirt road. They abandoned Shan Feng, who now stood alone, his face pale.
Only one of Shan Feng's friends remained, the skinny boy who had provoked earlier, who dared to voice one last threat. "Chen Huang! If you dare, Shan Feng's father will surely retaliate later!"
Chen Huang tilted his head slightly; that small movement was enough to show undeniable dominance. His expression was cold and unemotional.
"Then don't bother me," he said, his voice as cold as newly forged steel.
He turned completely, ignoring Shan Feng, who was now frozen in shame and fear. His footsteps returned to their calm and rhythmic pace, continuing his journey to search for herbs as his initial goal, as if the incident were no more important than a dried leaf underfoot.
Shan Feng's hand clenched, his face, previously fearful, was now filled with rage. He stared at Chen Huang's receding back, his green eyes as if saying that he would not let this incident go.