The silence in the plaza was heavy, broken only by the wet, ragged gasps of Han Jun as he twitched on the cold stone. Blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, staining the stage a dark, rusted red.
Elder Mo was the first to recover. He stepped forward, his eyes darting between the unconscious "genius" and the "trash" who had felled him with a single, basic strike.
"You..." Mo started, his voice rasping. "Han Feng, did you hide your cultivation? That strike... that wasn't the Basic Fist Technique."
"It was," Han Feng replied, pulling back his hand. He looked down at his knuckles; they didn't even ache. The Primordial Chaos Physique was already tempering his skin to the density of iron. "Maybe Han Jun just forgot how to block the basics."
"Nonsense!" A roar came from the VIP terrace.
Han Hu, the Third Elder and Han Jun's father, slammed his hand onto the mahogany railing, shattering it. He leaped from the balcony, landing on the stage with a thud that cracked the tiles.
"You used a demonic artifact! Or perhaps a poison!" Han Hu's face was purple with rage. He knelt by his son, checking his pulse. His eyes widened. "His meridians... they are shattered! You've crippled him!"
The crowd gasped. In a martial clan, crippling someone's cultivation was a crime worse than death. It was the ultimate
"Face-Slapping."
"He attacked with the intent to break my legs," Han Feng said coolly, meeting the Elder's murderous gaze. "I simply countered with more force. If his foundation was so brittle, perhaps he shouldn't have been on the stage."
"You little animal! I'll kill you!"
Han Hu didn't wait for a trial. He surged forward, his palm glowing with a fierce, emerald light—the Gale-Force Palm, a technique reserved for those at the Pulse Condensation Realm. This was an Elder attacking a junior, a gross violation of clan law, but nobody moved to stop him. To them, Han Feng was still a replaceable servant.
[WARNING!]
High-Energy Signature detected.
Threat Level: Lethal (for current cultivation).
Analyzing Gale-Force Palm...
[Insight Unlocked]: The Wind-Walking Path.
Han Feng's vision slowed again. The emerald palm was fast, but the Chaos Record showed him the 'vortex' of the wind. There was a dead zone in the center of the pressure—a vacuum where the power was zero.
As Han Hu's palm was inches from his chest, Han Feng didn't retreat. He spun his body like a top, his feet scraping the stone in a perfect arc.
Whoosh!
The Gale-Force Palm hit nothing but air, the force of the strike continuing forward and obliterating the heavy wooden referee's table behind Han Feng.
"Enough!"
A voice like a mountain falling boomed across the plaza. A figure appeared between Han Feng and the enraged Elder. It was the Clan Leader, Han Tian. His presence alone felt like an invisible weight pressing down on everyone's shoulders.
"Third Elder, regain your composure," Han Tian said, his voice cold. "Attacking a junior in front of the entire clan? Have you no shame?"
"Leader! He crippled my son! Look at Jun'er!" Han Hu screamed, pointing a shaking finger.
Han Tian looked at the unconscious Han Jun, then turned his piercing gaze toward
Han Feng. It felt as if a hot iron was probing Han Feng's soul. Han Feng tightened his mental defenses, the Chaos Record humming softly to shroud his true aura.
"Han Feng," the Clan Leader said, his eyes narrowing. "Where did you get that strength? An hour ago, you were a mortal with no Qi. Now, you evade a Pulse Condensation strike."
Han Feng bowed slightly, maintaining the facade of a humble disciple. "Deep in the Archive, I found an old, nameless manual on body tempering. I've been practicing it in secret for years. It seems my 'Clogged Meridians' weren't a curse, but a seal. Today, under the stress of Han Jun's bullying, the seal broke."
It was a classic lie—simple, plausible in a world of weird cultivation flukes, and hard to disprove without killing him to inspect his soul.
Han Tian remained silent for a long time. The wind whistled through the banners.
"A seal, you say?" Han Tian finally spoke. A small, enigmatic smile played on his lips. "If that is true, then the Han Clan has gained a genius instead of a janitor. However... you have crippled a fellow clansman."
The atmosphere grew tense again.
"According to clan law," Han Tian continued, "strength is the final arbiter. Han Feng, you are stripped of your servant status. You are now an Inner Disciple. But... since you have made an enemy of the Third Elder's branch, you will not receive a protector. In one month, the Hidden Cloud Sect comes to recruit. If you aren't in the top three, I will hand you over to the Third Elder for 'judgment.'"
Han Hu let out a dark, guttural laugh. "A month. Fine. Enjoy your life for thirty days, boy. I'll make sure your training is... eventful."
Han Feng didn't blink. "One month is plenty of time."
As the crowd began to disperse, Han Feng's mind was already elsewhere.
[Ding!]
Quest Triggered: The Sect Trials.
Requirement: Reach the 9th Level of Body Refining.
Reward: The Chaos Sword Intent.
9th Level in a month? Han Feng smirked. To anyone else, it was impossible. To the holder of the Chaos Record, it was just a matter of finding enough spirit stones.
He turned his back on the stage, leaving the stunned clan behind. He had 10,000 chapters to fill, and he wasn't going to spend them in this tiny, dusty town.