The door burst open with a violent crash, wooden fragments scattering across the room as Zhao Kun stepped in, his presence heavy with arrogance and barely concealed hostility. Behind him followed two lackeys, both wearing mocking smiles as they looked at Lin Chen as though he were nothing more than something to be stepped on. Zhao Kun glanced around briefly before his eyes settled on Lin Chen, a sneer forming on his lips. He had expected fear, hesitation, perhaps even pleading—but what he saw instead made him pause.
Lin Chen was standing still, calm and composed, his gaze steady and unflinching. There was no trace of the weakness Zhao Kun was used to seeing. No avoidance, no submission. Just silence.
For a moment, something felt off.
Then Zhao Kun scoffed, brushing the feeling aside. "Looks like you're still alive," he said coldly, cracking his knuckles as he took a step forward. "I heard you collapsed yesterday. Thought you might've died already. Would've saved me the trouble."
The two behind him chuckled, their laughter sharp and dismissive.
Lin Chen didn't respond. He simply watched them, his expression unchanged, as though observing something trivial.
That silence irritated Zhao Kun far more than any insult could have.
"What, can't even speak now?" he said, his tone growing harsher. "Or did you finally realize your place?"
Still no answer.
Zhao Kun's patience snapped.
"I didn't come here to waste time," he said, his voice dropping. "Hand over your cultivation resources."
The demand hung in the air, familiar and oppressive. It had always been this way. The weak were never allowed to keep what little they had. The old Lin Chen had endured it countless times, choosing submission over pain, humiliation over resistance.
But that version of him was gone.
"No."
The word was quiet, almost casual—but unmistakably firm.
For a brief moment, everything went still.
Zhao Kun stared at him, as if unsure whether he had heard correctly. "What did you just say?"
Lin Chen lifted his gaze slightly, meeting Zhao Kun's eyes without the slightest hint of fear. "I said no."
The reaction was immediate.
"You're looking to die!"
Zhao Kun lunged forward, his fist cutting through the air with force and speed far beyond that of an ordinary person. The attack was direct, fueled by anger rather than precision, but it was still something the previous Lin Chen would never have been able to avoid.
But this time was different.
To Lin Chen, the movement was clear—predictable even. He could see the shift in Zhao Kun's stance, the tightening of his muscles, the exact trajectory of the strike before it fully formed.
He moved.
Just a slight step to the side.
Effortless.
Zhao Kun's punch sliced through empty air.
Shock flashed across his face—but before he could react, Lin Chen's counterattack had already begun. There was no wasted motion, no unnecessary flourish. His fist drove forward in a clean, direct line, carrying a force that was simple but undeniable.
The impact landed squarely in Zhao Kun's abdomen.
The sound was dull but heavy.
Zhao Kun's body bent forward as the air was forced out of his lungs in an instant. His expression twisted in disbelief as pain exploded through his core, and he staggered backward, barely managing to stay on his feet.
The room fell silent.
The two lackeys froze, their minds struggling to process what they had just witnessed.
Zhao Kun… had been hit.
And not just hit—overpowered.
By Lin Chen.
"That… that's impossible…" one of them muttered under his breath.
Zhao Kun coughed, a trace of blood appearing at the corner of his mouth as he forced himself upright. His eyes were no longer filled with casual disdain but with something far less stable—confusion, disbelief, and the first hint of unease.
"How are you…?" he began, but the question never finished.
Lin Chen had already stepped forward.
His movements were steady, controlled, each step carrying a subtle but undeniable pressure. The air in the room seemed to shift with him, growing heavier.
"You like taking things from the weak," Lin Chen said, his voice calm and even. "Now it's my turn."
Zhao Kun's expression hardened. Whatever uncertainty he felt was quickly replaced by anger. "Don't get arrogant!" he snapped, forcing himself to gather his strength. Energy surged through his body as he prepared another attack, this time more focused, more controlled. "I was just careless!"
He moved again, faster than before, his strike sharper and more deliberate.
But Lin Chen didn't retreat.
Instead, he stepped forward.
Directly into the attack.
At the last moment, he shifted his body just enough to avoid the main force of the blow, his movements precise and efficient. In the same instant, his elbow drove into Zhao Kun's side with brutal accuracy.
A sharp cracking sound echoed through the room.
Zhao Kun's scream followed immediately after.
His body was lifted off the ground and thrown backward, slamming heavily into the wall. Dust fell from above as the impact reverberated through the small space.
This time, he didn't get back up immediately.
The two lackeys stumbled backward, their earlier confidence completely gone, replaced by fear.
"Boss…"
Zhao Kun coughed violently, blood spilling more freely now as he struggled to breathe. Pain shot through his ribs with every movement, making it clear that something inside had broken.
"How…" he rasped, staring at Lin Chen as though looking at a stranger. "How did you become this strong…?"
Lin Chen didn't answer.
He simply walked forward, closing the distance step by step until he stood over Zhao Kun. Without effort, he reached down, grabbed him by the collar, and lifted him slightly off the ground.
The difference in strength was undeniable.
"You still want to continue?" Lin Chen asked.
There was no anger in his voice, no excitement—only quiet certainty.
Zhao Kun's face turned pale. The last trace of resistance collapsed under that gaze. "N-no… I was wrong… I won't do it again…"
Behind him, the two lackeys dropped to their knees almost instantly. "Please spare us!" one of them said hurriedly. "We'll give you everything!"
Lin Chen held Zhao Kun there for a moment longer before releasing him. Zhao Kun fell back to the ground, gasping for air, his body trembling slightly.
"Your resources," Lin Chen said.
This time, there was no hesitation.
They moved quickly, almost desperately, taking out everything they had—spirit stones, pills, anything of value—and placing it in front of him. None of them dared to hold anything back.
Lin Chen took everything without comment.
In this world, mercy was weakness, and weakness invited destruction. He had learned that lesson once already, and he had no intention of repeating it.
Only after they had gathered themselves and fled did the room grow quiet again.
Lin Chen closed what remained of the door and stood there for a moment, letting the silence settle. Then he turned his attention inward.
What he had gained was not much, but it was enough.
More importantly, it confirmed something critical.
Lifespan could be obtained.
Not just spent.
That realization alone was worth more than everything Zhao Kun had given him.
A thought formed naturally.
"Upgrade my strength."
The response came immediately.
A surge of energy rose from within him, spreading through his body in a controlled wave. His muscles tightened, becoming denser and more responsive, while a deeper sense of stability settled into his bones. The change wasn't explosive, but it was undeniable.
He exhaled slowly, adjusting to the new strength.
Stronger.
Clearly stronger.
But still not enough.
His gaze darkened slightly.
Zhao Kun had been nothing more than the beginning. There were many others—stronger, faster, more dangerous. If he wanted to survive, if he wanted to rise, he couldn't stop here.
Outside, voices began to gather again.
This time, more numerous.
More curious.
More restless.
"Is it true?"
"Zhao Kun really lost?"
"Let's see for ourselves."
Footsteps approached, echoing through the corridor.
Lin Chen heard them clearly.
But instead of hiding or retreating, he stepped forward and stood at the center of the room. His posture was relaxed, but there was a quiet confidence in the way he carried himself now.
A faint smile appeared on his lips.
It was subtle.
Cold.
"Good," he said softly.
Whether they came one by one…
Or all at once—
It didn't matter.
This time—
He would take everything.