The ruined courtyard gradually emptied, but the shock of what had transpired lingered like an unhealed wound across the Xuanyuan Clan.
Under the silent guidance of Grand Elder Xuanyuan Ming, Yin Mei carefully supported Xuanyuan Zhen's battered body.
Her cultivation was only at the Body Tempering Realm, yet her steps remained steady. Her expression was composed, though faint worry flickered beneath her calm exterior.
A Nascent Soul strike was not something a Foundation Establishment cultivator should survive.
And yet Xuanyuan Zhen had not only survived—he had not even fully collapsed.
By the time they reached his residence, Xuanyuan Ming flicked his sleeve.
A translucent barrier unfolded, sealing the courtyard from outside perception.
Only then did Yin Mei lower Xuanyuan Zhen onto the bed.
The instant his body settled, Xuanyuan Ming stepped forward. His gaze sharpened as it examined the young man.
Severe internal trauma. Shattered meridians. Residual Nascent Soul qi still lingering within his body like a storm that refused to dissipate.
By all logic, recovery should have been slow—painful, incomplete.
Yet something unusual was happening.
Xuanyuan Zhen's breathing stabilized at a visible pace.
A faint purple-gold glow surfaced beneath his skin, circulating in slow but steady currents through his damaged body.
Broken tissues were knitting together.
Collapsed meridians were being forcibly realigned by sheer vitality.
Xuanyuan Ming's eyes narrowed slightly.
"…Strange."
He did not speak further.
Xuanyuan Zhen opened his eyes.
Without hesitation, he retrieved a jade bottle from his storage ring.
When opened, a dense spiritual fragrance filled the room instantly.
Spiritual milk.
Even Xuanyuan Ming's gaze shifted slightly.
Xuanyuan Zhen drank a small portion.
The moment it entered his body, warm refined energy spread through his meridians. His body's abnormal recovery rate immediately surged further, stabilizing the damage at an accelerated pace.
The pain lessened.
His breathing evened out.
Xuanyuan Ming observed in silence.
Two things were now undeniable.
First—the rumors were real.
Xuanyuan Zhen possessed both the Ancient Saint Body and the Heavenly Tyrant Body.
Two legendary physiques recorded in ancient texts as incompatible forces—each striving for the title of the strongest physique under heaven.
Yet within this boy, both existed.
Not only existed…
But were stable.
Second—this boy had clearly encountered fortune beyond imagination.
His gaze briefly lingered on the remaining spiritual milk.
Even sect-level powers would treat such an item as a rare resource.
Xuanyuan Zhen noticed the gaze.
Without hesitation, he produced two additional jade bottles.
He handed one forward.
"Grand Elder."
Xuanyuan Ming accepted it after a brief pause.
His expression remained neutral, though his evaluation of the boy shifted slightly.
Xuanyuan Zhen then turned and placed the second bottle into Yin Mei's hands.
"Take it."
Yin Mei hesitated briefly before accepting it carefully.
Such resources… were not casually given.
Xuanyuan Ming studied him for a moment longer.
"You've had a fortunate encounter," he said calmly.
Xuanyuan Zhen only gave a faint smile in response, then closed his eyes again. But beneath that calm exterior, his thoughts were elsewhere. The pressure of the patriarch's aura still lingered faintly in his memory.
It had been overwhelming—absolute suppression from a higher realm.
Yet under that suffocating force…
Something within him had shifted.
Not broken.
Not submitted.
But refined.
A faint clarity had surfaced in that moment—something instinctive, something primal.
Intent.
The intent to fight, the intent to defy.
Xuanyuan Zhen opened his eyes again.
"It was a worthwhile experience," he said evenly.
Xuanyuan Ming raised an eyebrow but did not press further.
Instead, he simply said,
"Nascent Soul pressure is not something a foundation establishment cultivator can endure, let alone an attack."
Xuanyuan Zhen did not respond.
Silence returned.
...
The atmosphere was suffocating.
Xuanyuan Bei stood motionless, hands clasped behind his back.
Behind him, Xuanyuan Han lay on the bed—face pale, eyes hollow.
His Qi Sea was destroyed.
His cultivation path severed completely.
A silence heavier than grief filled the room.
Xuanyuan Bei's fingers slowly tightened.
But his anger was not only for his son.
It was for the one responsible.
Xuanyuan Zhen.
A Foundation Establishment cultivator.
A boy who should not have survived a single breath under Nascent Soul pressure—yet he had not only survived, he had stood afterward without fear.
That alone was unacceptable.
Xuanyuan Bei's gaze darkened.
"He is not ordinary."
Not because of current strength.
But because of what he might become.
And that possibility…
Was more dangerous than any present threat.
Xuanyuan Bei turned slightly.
"Someone."
A servant immediately knelt.
"Yes, Patriarch."
His voice was cold.
"Send word to the Heavenly Dao Sect."
The servant stiffened.
That name carried immense weight.
A sect far beyond the Xuanyuan Clan's level of influence.
Inside it resided their greatest pride.
Xuanyuan Hao.
A genius known across the region—not because of lineage, but because of sheer talent.
A true prodigy of a different tier.
Xuanyuan Bei's voice lowered.
"Deliver a message."
The servant asked carefully,
"What message shall I carry?"
Xuanyuan Bei's eyes were like frozen steel.
"Tell Xuanyuan Hao…"
A pause.
"…his younger brother has been crippled."
A long silence followed.
Then—
His voice turned sharper.
"And tell him who did it."