Three Days Ago.
On the eastern side of the Crimson Clan estate, the air buzzed with volatile spiritual energy.
Wang Zhi sat cross-legged atop a pristine jade cushion inside his private sanctuary. Strands of pure, emerald-green spiritual energy flowed visibly through the room, swirling around his hands, cycling rhythmically across his chest, and drawing into his nostrils with every deep inhalation.
Though he could not yet see the Qi with his physical eyes, Wang Zhi guided it by pure instinct. He drew his hands into a complex, circular seal. The ambient energy violently surged through his primary spiritual meridians, causing a tearing, sharp pain along every channel as it forced its way down into his lower abdomen.
Boom!
Ninety percent of the accumulated energy suddenly backflowed in a violent wave, blasting outward through his pores as a shimmering spiritual mist. The explosive surge purged the remaining impurities from his channels, leaving his Dantian glowing with a brilliant, steady vapor light. The remaining Qi anchored itself firmly within his core.
Wang Zhi snapped his eyes open, catching the fading glimmers of the emerald mist drifting off his skin.
A flash of memory washed through his mind—the words of his grandfather, the Fourth Elder Wang Gu: "When you break through to the Qi Gathering Realm, you will feel a tearing pain followed by the sensation of thousands of ants crawling beneath your skin."
A proud, arrogant smirk twisted Wang Zhi's features. After months of grueling effort, he had done it. He had officially stepped into the Qi Gathering Realm.
"Hahaha..." Wang Zhi laughed aloud, his voice dripping with malice. "You're dead, Wang Fang."
Later that day, the Main Gathering Hall of the Crimson Clan was unusually lively.
Rows of elders, guest instructors, guard captains, and core members sat in strict hierarchical alignment, their eyes fixed on the center of the hall. Standing proudly in the middle of the room was Wang Zhi.
A faint veil of emerald spiritual mist still lingered around his limbs, radiating an unmistakable pressure.
"Excellent," the First Elder murmured, slowly stroking his long white beard. "To enter the Qi Gathering Realm at such a young age... such talent is rare even among the dominant clans of the region."
Whispers of praise rippled through the ranks.
"As expected of the Fourth Elder's grandson."
"A true genius of our bloodline."
"The future of our clan is exceptionally bright."
Hearing the endless praise, Fourth Elder Wang Gu could barely conceal the triumphant pride beaming across his face. He slowly rose from his seat, cupping his fists toward the head of the hall.
"Clan Leader," Wang Gu declared, his voice ringing clearly over the chatter. "I believe this is an excellent opportunity to discuss a matter that directly concerns the future of our Crimson Clan."
The hall gradually quieted. Patriarch Wang Yun sat calmly upon the throne, his posture unyielding. "Speak."
Wang Gu smiled faintly. "My grandson Wang Zhi has successfully entered the Qi Gathering Realm, achieving a milestone that the rest of the younger generation can only dream of. Meanwhile..." His smile vanished, replaced by cold contempt. "...your son, Wang Fang, has remained locked inside his chamber for over seven days without showing his face. I have heard from numerous servants that he does nothing but hide."
The Fourth Elder paused, letting his words hang heavy in the air. "He has yet to sense Qi. He has yet to make a single breakthrough. He is... still weaker than an ordinary mortal."
The atmosphere in the hall grew uncomfortably tense.
"Forgive my bluntness, Clan Leader," Wang Gu continued smoothly. "But how can such a child truly possess the legendary Primordial Spirit Root? Even a standard Heaven-grade root would have allowed him to reach the Qi Gathering Realm by now. Yet Wang Fang has not taken a single true step onto the path of cultivation."
The elders exchanged quiet, uneasy glances. Some lowered their gaze; others nodded in subtle agreement.
Wang Gu took a deep breath, his voice turning razor-sharp. "I cannot help but wonder... whether the Spirit Root examination ritual you personally performed was mistaken. Or perhaps..." He turned his piercing gaze directly onto Wang Yun. "...the clan was deliberately deceived."
Absolute silence fell over the hall.
The words had barely left his lips when—
BOOM!!
An overwhelming, suffocating pressure erupted from Wang Yun's body. The entire Gathering Hall trembled violently. The massive double doors were blasted open off their hinges, every window shattered into fine dust, and tables split down the middle. Tea cups exploded and scrolls flew wildly through the air as a terrifying, golden aura erupted from the Patriarch like an exploding star.
Outside, the sky above the Crimson Clan estate turned black as dark clouds rapidly converged. Thunder roared across the heavens, and violent gales swept through the mountain range, blotting out the sun.
It was as if Heaven itself trembled before the Patriarch's wrath. The crushing pressure radiated outward for nearly a thousand kilometers, enveloping a quarter of the entire Mamaya region.
In the distant towns, mortal villagers panicked, dropping to their knees as whispers of "An ancient immortal has been enraged!" echoed through the streets. Birds fell from the sky, and spirit beasts deep within the forests pinned their heads to the earth in terror.
Inside the hall, no one could breathe.
The elders felt as if a physical mountain had been slammed onto their shoulders. Knees buckled uncontrollably; several instructors collapsed onto the floor, and even the elite guard captains could not lift their heads. Cold sweat poured down every face.
Wang Gu's pupils shrank to pinpricks. Veins bulged across his forehead as he fought with every ounce of his cultivation merely to remain standing.
"W-Wang Gu..." Wang Yun's deep voice boomed, carrying a weight that cracked the stone pillars of the hall. "Do not mistake my patience... for weakness."
Wang Gu's heart skipped a beat, his lips trembling. "Clan Leader... I... I only meant—"
"You questioned my integrity," Wang Yun interrupted, taking a step down from his throne. With each footstep, the stone floor split beneath him, and the surrounding walls splintered. "You questioned the Spirit Root Ceremony. You implied that I deceived my own blood."
He took another step, his golden eyes glowing with terrifying light. "I have tolerated your arrogance because you are an elder of this clan. But today... you have crossed the line."
Faced with absolute annihilation, the Fourth Elder immediately lowered his head to the stone floor. "This subordinate begs for forgiveness!"
For several agonizing breaths, the suffocating pressure lingered before Wang Yun finally withdrew his aura. The storm outside gradually dispersed, and fresh air flooded back into the ruined hall. Everyone exhaled a collective, ragged breath of relief.
After a long, solemn silence, Wang Gu gathered what little courage he had left. "Clan Leader... I still believe the future of the Crimson Clan deserves someone stronger. My grandson possesses talent, cultivation, and the respect of the younger generation. If he becomes the next Young Master, our clan's standing will soar."
Several elders murmured in agreement.
"I support Wang Zhi."
"He is indeed the more suitable heir."
"He has already proven his strength."
Wang Yun listened to every voice without interrupting. Finally, he spoke, his tone returning to a cold, steady calm.
"I understand your concerns. But the wager has already been made. My son challenged Wang Zhi in front of the entire assembly, and the news has already spread. We shall allow fate to decide."
He looked around the room, his gaze locking onto every elder. "If Wang Zhi wins, I will personally strip Wang Fang of his title, and he will leave the clan as promised. Wang Zhi will become the next Young Master."
The hall nodded in agreement. But then, Wang Yun's golden eyes narrowed, and a freezing killing intent filled the air.
"However... if Wang Zhi loses... none of you shall ever question my son's position again." His eyes locked onto Wang Gu. "And you, Wang Gu, will publicly admit before the entire clan that your judgment was flawed. No one will dare utter another word."
The hall remained deathly silent. No one dared to challenge the Patriarch's final decree.
Back To The Present Day.
"...And so, that is what happened while you were in seclusion, Young Master," Xiao Lan finished explaining, her eyes filled with worry.
Wang Fang stood outside his chamber, processing everything he had just heard.
So that's what went down, Wang Fang thought, his mind working rapidly. I've been isolating myself, doing everything I can to strengthen my body, while the elders were actively plotting to strip my title. Even the First and Third Elders gave in this time. If Father hadn't stepped in with absolute authority, I would have been in deep trouble.
He looked at Xiao Lan, realizing how close things had come to breaking out into violence earlier when Bai Lu confronted him. If Xiao Lan hadn't interrupted, a fight would have broken out. With my current strength, I'm not entirely sure I could have beaten Bai Lu yet—he's at the late Blood Refinement stage.
"So... what are you going to do now, Young Master?" Xiao Lan asked softly, breaking his train of thought.
Wang Fang looked down at his hands, slowly forming them into tight fists. He could feel the heightened sensory focus from his recent breakthrough, allowing him to trace the flow of blood and muscle alignment beneath his skin.
"The only thing I can do," Wang Fang said, his eyes sharpening, "is double my body cultivation training."
"But you'll injure yourself again!" Xiao Lan protested, her expression full of genuine care.
"No, this time is different," Wang Fang countered smoothly. "I understand the technique now. I need to complete Stage One within the next ten days."
The Mountain Peak Training begins.
Wang Fang did not stay in his courtyard. He made his way up the mountain, passing the main training grounds and climbing higher until he reached the absolute peak—a solitary, windswept rock overlooking the cloud sea.
He sat cross-legged on the stone, closing his eyes to begin his meditation.
Day turned to night, and the three moons shone brightly upon his small frame. Guided by the Sovereign World-Root Scripture, his mind listened intently to the steady rhythm of his heart and the rushing flow of his blood. His consciousness sank into a state of profound, absolute stillness; thoughts drifted past him like gentle wind through a valley.
Eleven days passed in an instant.
When Wang Fang opened his eyes, his aura was entirely different. His gaze carried an unyielding, immovable weight. Through his internal sensory map, he scanned every muscle fiber, every blood vessel, and every bone layer in his body.
I've done it, he realized, a surge of satisfaction washing over him. I've reached Level 9 of the First Stage—the peak of Iron-root Flesh, which is mental stillness.
He clenched his fist, feeling the incredible density hidden beneath his skin. But before he could celebrate, a foul, sharp odor drifted into his nostrils.
Huh? What is that awful smell? he thought, looking around the empty peak.
He leaned down and sniffed his own sleeve, his face instantly twisting in sheer disgust. "Blegh! Ugh, I smell terrible!"
Over the eleven days of intense refinement, his body had aggressively forced out layer upon layer of deep-seated physical impurities, coating his skin in a sticky, dark residue.
"I need to wash up immediately," he muttered, scrambling off the rock.
Empty Chambers
After returning to his pavilion and thoroughly scrubbing his skin in a hot bath, Wang Fang dressed in clean training robes. Realizing how long it had been, he decided to visit his mother first.
He walked over to Madam Xinyi's courtyard and knocked on the heavy wooden door. A servant girl stepped out, bowing respectfully.
"Ah, Young Master! If you are looking for the Madam, she is not here."
Wang Fang blinked. "Where did she go?"
The servant scratched her head nervously. "Three days ago, the Madam left the estate without informing anyone where she was heading."
Wang Fang's shoulders dropped slightly. What a shame... I haven't seen her in over a month. "I see. Thank you."
Turning away, he decided to visit his father's quarters instead. But when he arrived at Wang Yun's main pavilion, he was met with the exact same answer.
"Young Master, the Lord went out three days ago," the guard reported.
Wang Fang ruffled his hair in mild frustration. Both of them left three days ago? What's going on?
With nothing else to do, he turned around, deciding to head back up to the mountain peak to continue honing his newfound strength.
Meanwhile.
As Wang Fang strolled down the winding mountain path, four figures appeared from the opposite direction.
It was Wang Zhi, flanked by Bai Lu, He Son, and Han Lu.
The moment Wang Zhi spotted him, a cruel grin spread across his face. "Well, well... look who we have here. Our esteemed heir to the clan! Ah, wait... I mean our former heir. The crippled heir!"
Bai Lu and the other two burst into loud, mocking laughter.
Wang Fang didn't even slow his pace, attempting to walk right past them as if they were invisible.
Wang Zhi's eyes narrowed in anger. He thinks he can ignore me?!
Stepping directly into Wang Fang's path, Wang Zhi blocked the way, while Bai Lu and the others circled behind to cut off his escape.
"You're going nowhere," Wang Zhi sneered, stepping closer. "Now that I have entered the Qi Gathering Realm, I can see how pathetic you truly are. If you drop to your knees right now, bow, and beg for forgiveness, I might show mercy and refrain from crippling you at the clan tournament. Since you're destined to die a mortal in a hundred years anyway, there's no need for me to rush."
The three lackeys laughed heartily. To Wang Fang, however, the endless arrogance sounded like nothing more than a barking dog.
Wang Fang listened quietly, his face entirely unbothered. Then, without a second thought, the corners of his lips curled upward into a calm, effortless smile.
"...What a noisy dog."
The words left his mouth so naturally that even Wang Fang was mildly amused by his own delivery.
Silence fell over the mountain path.
Bai Lu's eyes widened in sheer disbelief. He Son and Han Lu looked at each other, completely stunned.
Did... did this cripple just call Wang Zhi a dog?!
For a brief second, Wang Zhi himself failed to process the insult. Then, his handsome face twisted violently in rage. Veins bulged across his forehead, and his eyes turned bloodshot.
"You... what did you just call me?!" his voice trembled with fury.
Wang Fang looked at him indifferently. "I wasn't talking to you." He paused, adding casually, "But if the shoe fits..."
The final thread of Wang Zhi's self-control snapped.
"YOU ARE COURTING DEATH!"
BOOM!
Volatile spiritual Qi erupted from Wang Zhi's Dantian. A thick layer of emerald energy wrapped tightly around his right fist, causing the surrounding air to vibrate with audible pressure. Completely ignoring clan rules and the upcoming tournament, Wang Zhi lunged forward, throwing a lethal, full-power punch straight toward Wang Fang's chest.
His intention was clear: even if he couldn't kill the Patriarch's son outright, he would shatter his ribs and cripple him forever before the tournament even began.
The distance between them vanished in the blink of an eye. Bai Lu's face lit up with sadistic excitement. He's finished!
However...
Just as Wang Zhi's Qi-coated fist was less than a foot from Wang Fang's chest—
WHOOSH!
A figure materialized between them out of thin air. It was so instantaneous that neither Wang Fang nor Wang Zhi even caught a blur of movement.
The newcomer casually raised a single hand.
BOOM!!
A deafening sonic explosion detonated along the mountain path. A violent shockwave burst outward, blasting dust, loose gravel, and shattered leaves in every direction. The surrounding trees bent backward from the wind, and birds scattered frantically into the sky.
Wang Zhi's lethal, Qi-infused punch had come to a dead stop.
It was held effortlessly... between two fingers."