The Main Hall of the Shen Clan was a monument to fading grandeur. Tall pillars of red sandalwood, carved with circling hawks, supported a ceiling painted with the constellations of the Azure Cloud Continent. Today, the hall was packed. The air was thick with the scent of expensive incense and the whispered hushes of the clan's extended branches.
At the head of the hall sat the Acting Clan Leader, Shen broken-mountain, flanked by four Elders. Below them, standing with a smug air of untouchable grace, was Shen Tao. He was dressed in vibrant blue silks, a jade fan tapping rhythmically against his palm.
"The hour has passed," Shen Tao remarked, his voice carrying easily through the hall. "The waste, Shen Yuan, hasn't shown his face. It seems he either died of shame in that woodshed or has already fled like the cur he is. Grandfather, there is no need to wait. Strike his name and let us proceed with the Ancestral Rite."
The Acting Clan Leader sighed, picking up a brush to draw a line through the register. "A pity. His father was a hero, but the son... truly, a tiger does not always sire a tiger."
Thud.
The sound was soft, yet it caused the heavy oak doors at the back of the hall to vibrate.
Thud.
Another footfall. It wasn't the hurried pace of a servant or the aggressive stomp of a warrior. It was a rhythmic, measured gait—heavy with a weight that seemed to press down on the very floorboards.
The heavy doors didn't fly open with a bang. They were pushed aside slowly, revealing a silhouette framed against the morning glare.
Shen Yuan walked in.
He was still wearing the blood-stained rags from the shed. His hair was loose, falling over his shoulders like a dark silk curtain. Yet, as he stepped into the light, the mocking whispers died instantly. A strange, suffocating silence swept through the hall, starting from the back rows and moving toward the Elders' dais.
It wasn't his strength that shocked them—they still sensed no "Qi" from his shattered Dantian. It was his Aura.
He walked with his chin level, his eyes fixed on the distant throne of the Clan Leader. He didn't look at the disciples who had mocked him. He didn't look at the guards who leveled their spears. He looked through them, as if they were nothing more than translucent ghosts in a world he already owned.
"Step aside," Shen Yuan said.
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a strange, metallic resonance that made the teeth of those nearby ache. Two guards, both at the 3rd Level of Mortal Shackles, instinctively took a step back. Their hands were shaking on their weapon shafts. They didn't know why they were afraid, only that every instinct in their bodies was screaming at them to move or be crushed.
"Shen Yuan!" Shen Tao shouted, his face reddening as he felt the shift in the room's atmosphere. "You dare enter the Ancestral Hall in such a filthy state? You are a cripple! Kneel and accept your banishment!"
Shen Yuan stopped ten paces from Shen Tao. He didn't look angry. He didn't even look vengeful. He looked bored
"Kneel?" Shen Yuan tilted his head slightly. The amber slit in his eyes flashed with the cold light of an ancient star. "The Heavens themselves could not make me bend my knee. You, a mere grain of sand on a nameless shore... where do you find the courage to speak such words to me?"
The hall went ice-cold. This wasn't the "trash" they knew. The old Shen Yuan was timid, stuttering, and broken. This man stood like a mountain that had existed since the dawn of time.
"You... you're truly seeking death!" Shen Tao's aura erupted. Blue Qi swirled around his fists—the 4th Level of Mortal Shackles. He was considered a "Genius" in Linhe City. "I broke your Dantian once; I will break your spirit today!"
Shen Tao lunged, his fan folding into a lethal spike aimed at Shen Yuan's throat. It was a killing move, fast and precise.
Shen Yuan didn't flinch. He didn't even raise his hands into a guard. He simply took a single half-step forward, entering the heart of Shen Tao's strike.
"The Dragon does not dodge the gnat," Shen Yuan thought, the Iron Scale technique hummed beneath his skin.
CLANG!
The jade fan struck Shen Yuan's collarbone. Instead of piercing flesh, the high-quality jade shattered into a dozen fragments. Shen Tao's arm went numb from the recoil, the shockwave traveling up his shoulder and cracking his own joints.
Shen Yuan reached out, his movement so smooth it looked slow, yet Shen Tao found he couldn't move his feet to retreat. It was as if the air around him had turned into solid lead.
Shen Yuan's hand closed around Shen Tao's throat. He lifted the "Genius" off the ground with one arm, his expression as indifferent as a god observing an ant.
"Is this the 'Genius' of the Shen Clan?" Shen Yuan asked, turning his gaze toward the Elders on the dais. "If so, it is no wonder this clan is rotting."
"Release him!" The Acting Clan Leader roared, standing up so fast his chair toppled. "Shen Yuan! Have you practiced a Demonic Art? How is your body this strong?!"
Shen Yuan ignored the old man. He looked into Shen Tao's bulging, bloodshot eyes. "You wanted me to crawl to this meeting. Now, I will give you a choice. Crawl out of this hall, or never walk again. Choose quickly; my patience is a commodity you cannot afford."
At that moment, the Elders realized something terrifying. The boy wasn't just stronger—his Spirit was different. It was the aura of a Sovereign who had looked down upon billions of lives. To him, the "Clan Leader" was nothing. The "Ancestral Rites" were a joke.
He wasn't here to beg for his place in the family. He was here to decide if the family was worthy of him.