The resonance of the explosion was so cataclysmic that it rebounded off the ancient stone walls, echoing furiously through the long corridors of the Manor. While Ye Fang was frantically trying to wipe the soot off his face, the heavy, rhythmic thud of armored boots began to reverberate from the distance.
"Quick! The sound originated from the hidden corridor!"
"Has an assassin infiltrated the Lord's Manor?!"
Hearing the panicked shouts of the guards, Ye Fang's heart leaped into his throat.
'Great, another disaster! This time, I didn't just shoot myself in the foot... I literally blew a stone up in my own face!' he lamented inwardly.
"System! Stop laughing and find a way to purge this soot from my face! If the City Lord sees me looking like a charred turnip, my entire 'Savage' reputation will be ruined!" Ye Fang roared frantically within his consciousness.
Little System barely managed to stifle her giggles, wiping a tear of mirth from her eye. "Ah... Host, truly, I possess no celestial magic to cleanse your 'explosive face' right now. Besides, a grand protagonist should never fear a bit of dirt and ash, correct?"
"Useless! Asking you for help is always a waste of breath!" Ye Fang began to scrub his cheeks furiously with his sleeve, which only succeeded in smearing the black soot more thoroughly across his skin.
At that exact moment, three heavily armored guards emerged from around the bend of the corridor, swords drawn. The moment their eyes fell upon the lingering haze of smoke and the soot-blackened youth standing at its center, they froze in their tracks.
"Wait... isn't this the City Lord's honored guest?" one of the guards muttered, utterly bewildered.
"Ye Fang? What happened to you? Were you ambushed by an enemy?" another asked, lowering his blade. His eyes were wide, staring at the faint wisps of gray smoke still rising from Ye Fang's messy hair.
Ye Fang took a slow, measured breath, smoothed down his robes, and straightened his spine. Though his face was completely charred, a cold, deep, and vacant look returned to his eyes. He spoke in a voice that was incredibly calm, dripping with profound authority:
"Ambush? No. I was merely tempering a minute fraction of the supreme technique bequeathed to me by my Master. During my cultivation, a minor... fluctuation in the spiritual energy occurred."
The guards blinked, looking at one another in utter confusion. Their initial dread had now morphed into absolute bewilderment. His blackened face and smoking hair were objectively hilarious, yet Ye Fang's deadpan delivery and the chilling intensity in his eyes were so overpowering that no one dared to question him.
"Oh... so that is the case. Your Master must indeed be an extraordinary celestial being to teach such... 'explosive' techniques," the first guard stammered, swallowing hard.
Suddenly, rapid footsteps echoed from the far end of the corridor. Cleaving through the lingering haze of dust and smoke, Yan Kai Long materialized. His face was etched with grim alertness, his hand resting tightly on the hilt of his sword. After the arena battle and the sudden strike of the Blood Coffin Sect, he was primed for any sign of hostility.
But as his gaze swept across the scene—the scorched walls, the shattered stone debris littering the floor, and Ye Fang standing right in the middle of it all, looking like a charred coal but radiating supreme gravity—Yan Kai Long's brow furrowed deeply.
"Ye Fang? What happened here? Has another assassin dared to infiltrate the depths of the Manor?" Yan Kai Long demanded, his voice sharp and penetrating. His Golden Core Divine Sense immediately flared outward, scanning every shadow in the corridor for any trace of a hidden foe.
The moment Ye Fang's eyes fell upon Yan Kai Long, he cursed his fate inwardly. 'Great. Just great. Now my dignity is going to be ground into dust right in front of this golden-core monster!'
Yet, without letting a single crease of panic show on his face, he clasped his hands together and offered a respectful Daoist greeting. "Ah, Senior Brother Yan! Please, calm your aura. It is nothing of the sort. No assassin has breached these walls."
"Then this devastation... and your current state...?" Yan Kai Long questioned, his eyebrows twitching as he gestured toward Ye Fang's gravity-defying, smoking hair and charred face.
"In truth... I was merely practicing a specialized body-tempering technique bestowed upon me by my honored Master. My mortal physique is not yet fully capable of containing such violent celestial energy. This led to a minor spiritual backlash, resulting in this tiny explosive discharge," Ye Fang lied, adding another masterful layer of deception with a calm, philosophic poise.
But within the chaotic confines of his mind, Ye Fang was screaming in absolute terror:
'Oh heavens! What Master? What technique?! I'm just pulling whatever absurd nonsense comes to mind and throwing it at them! Only my own heart knows what a disastrous mess I've made here. How on earth do I tell them that the worthless piece of junk I got for free in the market exploded in my face because of my own overconfidence? And to think, I was actually willing to trade my priceless God-Demon Rebirth Pill for this firecracker of a stone! Lord, if they find out the truth, they won't view me as a peerless cultivator—they'll treat me like a court jester!'
Yan Kai Long scrutinized Ye Fang with a piercing gaze. Having witnessed the boy's monstrous physical prowess in the arena, he was already thoroughly convinced that an unfathomable, ancient powerhouse stood behind him.
"I see... so that is the truth," Yan Kai Long murmured, releasing his grip on his sword hilt as he exhaled a breath of relief. A spark of pure curiosity ignited in his eyes. "But... what manner of technique possesses the power to unleash such a violent physical detonation without utilizing a single shred of external Qi? Is this a forbidden art of your Mythical Sect?"
Ye Fang's heart skipped a beat. How was he supposed to answer that? Within his consciousness, even the Little System was leaning forward, her eyes glued to the screen, eagerly waiting to see how her Host would spin this.
Hearing Yan Kai Long's words, Ye Fang stared at him blankly for a moment, his mind turning over the phrase.
'Mythical Sect?! What in the world is he talking about? I've never heard of such a thing in my entire life... and I don't mean just in this world, but back on Earth too! These local cultivators are literally making up grand names on their own—first "Mythical Reaper Soul," and now "Mythical Sect"!'
Before Ye Fang could utter a word, the flutter of a snowy white beard announced the arrival of Elder Wang Shen from the corridor's bend. Behind him, City Lord Wang Long and his two daughters—Wang Mei and Wang Ling—rushed forward, their faces etched with deep anxiety, panic, and sheer vigilance.
"What happened? What was that cataclysmic sound?!" City Lord Wang Long demanded, his voice carrying the heavy, oppressive pressure of a Peak Spiritual Infant realm cultivator. His eyes scanned the scorched, blackened walls and the debris scattered across the floor.
Wang Mei, her hand resting firmly on her sword guard, surveyed the wreckage. "Was it an ambush? Have the surviving dregs of the Blood Coffin Sect managed to infiltrate the inner sanctum of the Manor?"
Wang Ling stared with wide, fearful eyes at Ye Fang's soot-blackened face, from which faint, wisps of gray smoke were still lazily rising. The air in the corridor grew thick with tension, everyone bracing for a looming crisis.
But before a single word could escape Ye Fang's mouth, Yan Kai Long stepped forward, fully sheathing his blade. He addressed the Elder and the City Lord in a respectful, reassuring tone:
"Fear not, Elder, City Lord! No enemy has breached our defenses. It was simply Brother Ye Fang practicing a highly guarded and profoundly powerful cultivation technique taught to him by his revered Master. A minor backlash occurred during his tempering, resulting in this insignificant spiritual blast."
"A cultivation technique?!"
Upon hearing Yan Kai Long's explanation, Elder Wang Shen's pupils dilated. City Lord Wang Long and his daughters froze, turning to stare at Ye Fang as if he were not a creature of this mortal plane, but a celestial entity descended directly from the higher heavens.
In the heavy, suffocating silence that filled the corridor, every single eye locked onto Ye Fang's soot-covered face.
Elder Wang Shen stroked his trembling white beard, his expression turning incredibly solemn. "Could it be... that your Master has truly entrusted you with such an incredible technique? One capable of unleashing such violent physical force without the aid of Qi? Ye Fang... would you mind demonstrating this technique for us? Let us witness a fraction of its divine mystery."
Their eyes shone with intense curiosity and reverence. Behind her glowing blue screen, the Little System widened her eyes in anticipation, waiting to see how her Host would climb out of this deep, self-dug grave.
In that quiet corridor of the Lord's Manor, where everyone hung onto his every breath, Ye Fang stood frozen like a stone statue. It felt as if time itself had ground to a halt before his eyes.
Peering into the deepest, darkest corners of his mind, he let out a long, utterly exhausted sigh. Staring blankly into the empty air, he grumbled inwardly with supreme irritation:
'Oh, for heaven's sake... what kind of absolute nonsense is unfolding here? Author... oh, Brother Author! Are you asleep or what?! When are you actually going to start the main plot? Why are you dragging out this pointless side story and exhausting these innocent readers for no reason?! My face got turned into a lump of charcoal just trying to break a piece of junk stone, and now you've trapped me in this solemn cultivation drama for your own amusement? Will someone please tell me what I am supposed to do now? Brother Author, you named this novel "I am the God-Demon Cultivator," but here you've turned me into "I am the Clown Cultivator"! But what can I do... I'm already knee-deep in this mess.'
After fully venting his internal frustration, he closed his eyes for a brief moment. Hiding his panic behind the thick layer of soot on his face, he once again donned the mask of a "profound and mysterious disciple."
When he opened his eyes, they held a fabricated depth and stillness. Looking directly at Elder Wang Shen and the City Lord, he spoke in an incredibly solemn, measured tone:
"Elder... City Lord... I can understand your immense curiosity. But the truth is... this technique was bequeathed to me by my Master under highly specific, celestial conditions. It... it actually does not possess a name. My Master strictly instructed me that this is a Nameless Technique, meant to be cultivated without the shackles of a title."
The moment this philosophical nonsense left his lips, a profound silence once again enveloped the corridor. Elder Wang Shen and Yan Kai Long plunged into deep contemplation, looking for all the world as though they were trying to decipher some grand, hidden Heavenly Dao concealed behind the word "Nameless."
While everyone listened with rapt, reverent attention, Ye Fang mentally clutched his head in sheer agony:
'Oh, blast it all! What Nameless Technique? What Heavenly Dao?! I don't even have a single clue what garbage is coming out of my mouth right now! I'm literally throwing absolute nonsense at them, and these people are listening as if I'm some immortal deity descending from the higher realms! If they ever discover the truth, they'll brand me as the greatest con artist in the entire history of the cultivation world!'
Standing amidst the lingering wisps of smoke, Ye Fang forced a serene, enigmatic smile onto his soot-covered face.