The morning sun had barely crested the eastern mountains when the front gates of the Lu Imperial Estate began to echo with low, miserable groans.
The three grand elders of the Black Dragon Sect, who only yesterday had marched up the white marble steps demanding five hundred thousand spirit stones with terrifying martial auras, were currently lying face down in the manicured grass.
Elder Zhao, the lead cultivator, slowly opened his bloodshot eyes. His head throbbed as if an iron hammer had been repeatedly slammed against his temples, but far worse was the hollow, twisting sensation in his lower abdomen.
"Ugh... my stomach..." Zhao wheezed, clutching his stomach as his face turned a pale shade of sickly yellow. "What... what happened to us?"
Beside him, Elder Qian groaned, rolling over on his side while desperately crossing his legs to suppress another violent rumble from his intestines. "Brother Zhao... the tea... the Lu Clan's hospitality tea... it was poisoned!"
"Poisoned?!" Elder Zhao gasped, forcing himself up into a kneeling position. He reached down instinctively toward his waist to draw his primary spirit sword to demand vengeance—only to feel nothing but empty air.
He froze.
Zhao looked down at his hips. His high-grade dragon-rune sword was gone. He patted his chest frantically. His embroidered silk pouch was gone. He looked at his fingers. His spatial storage ring—containing his life savings of fifty thousand spirit stones, rare pill recipes, and personal treasures—was completely missing.
"My... my storage ring!" Zhao shrieked, his voice cracking like a terrified child's.
Elder Qian and the third elder frantically checked their own bodies. In a matter of seconds, all three grand elders realized the brutal, horrifying reality: they had been stripped completely clean. Their weapons, their pills, their rings, their spare robes, and even the jade pendants dangling from their belts had vanished without a trace.
"Robbed!" Elder Qian sobbed, clutching his stomach in equal parts agony and humiliation. "We were robbed by the Lu Clan!"
"Wait!" Elder Zhao hissed, sweat pouring down his pale forehead as he looked around at the pristine marble courtyard. "Did you see anyone attack us? Did you see anyone draw a blade? Did you feel a single strike of spiritual energy?"
The two elders blinked, shaking their heads in complete bewilderment.
"No..." Qian whispered. "We... we just drank tea, felt a sudden stomach cramp, and fainted."
"Then we have no proof!" Zhao gritted his teeth, his face burning with intense, agonizing shame. "If we go to the Sect Master and tell him three Foundation Establishment elders fainted from digestive distress and had their storage rings stolen by a nineteen-year-old boy without a single drop of blood being spilled... we will become the laughingstock of the entire Southern Province! Our cultivation hearts will be ruined!"
The three elders looked at each other, their faces filled with utter despair and stomach-churning regret.
"What... what do we do, Brother Zhao?"
Zhao closed his eyes, taking a deep, trembling breath while suppressing another rumbling storm in his bowels. "We... we walk home. Silent. Fast. And we never, ever speak of the Lu Clan again."
Late that night, inside the underground alchemy hall of the Lu Estate.
The air was heavy with the sweet, pungent aroma of rare herbs, boiling cauldrons, and spiritual fire. Arrays of glowing blue and crimson runes lined the walls, casting a soft, mystic glow over the bronze cauldrons suspended over spirit flames.
Lu Chen stood before a massive silver cauldron, his crimson hair tied up loosely with a purple silk ribbon, exposing his sharp, elegant jawline and fair porcelain skin. He held a crystal pestle, casually crushing a pair of shimmering violet beetles into a fine powder.
Standing beside him, Ye Qingxian held a wooden tray filled with exotic herbs. Her silver hair fell like a shimmering veil over her lithe shoulders, her dark blue combat silk hugging her slender figure perfectly in the dim firelight.
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Her ice-blue eyes watched Lu Chen’s hands with an intense, unblinking focus.
"Young Master," Ye Qingxian murmured smoothly, her crisp voice echoing softly against the stone walls. "The shadow guards reported that the three Black Dragon elders departed the city three hours ago. They walked on foot, keeping their heads low, and did not utter a single complaint to anyone."
Lu Chen let out a low, smooth laugh, tossing the beetle powder into the bubbling cauldron. "See? I told you, Qingxian. Non-violence brings peace to all parties. They kept their lives, and we kept their wealth. It's a win-win."
Ye Qingxian’s lips twitched slightly. "They lost their life savings and their dignity, Young Master."
"Minor details," Lu Chen smirked, turning his head to look at her. His glowing purple eyes locked onto hers with a warm, magnetic charm that caused her pulse to quicken instantly.
He leaned back against the edge of the stone table, looking her up and down in the dim, flickering light of the cauldron fire. "Speaking of details... you've been standing very close to me all evening, Qingxian. Is the alchemy room too cold, or are you just looking for an excuse to stay near me?"
Ye Qingxian’s ice-cold composure shattered like thin glass. A rosy blush bloomed across her cheeks, warming her pale skin. She instinctively clutched the tray of herbs tighter against her chest, stepping back slightly.
"I... I am merely assisting with the ingredients, Young Master," she stammered, her ice-blue eyes darting away from his gaze. "You ordered the preparation of the 'Seven-Day Absolute Itching Powder'."
"Indeed I did," Lu Chen chuckled softly. He stepped forward, bridging the gap between them until he was standing right in front of her. He reached out with a slender, warm hand, gently brushing a stray lock of silver hair away from her blushing face.
Ye Qingxian held her breath, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs like a trapped bird.
"Tell me, Qingxian..." Lu Chen whispered, his deep voice carrying a velvety, intoxicating warmth near her ear. "If our dear cousin Lu Xiao challenges me on stage at the assembly... do you think he'll look better scratching himself like a rabid monkey, or weeping on his knees while his bowels sing a song?"
Ye Qingxian let out a soft, helpless breath, a genuine, breathtaking smile breaking through her cold facade for a split second before she caught herself. "I... I believe cousin Lu Xiao will regret ever returning to the Lu Clan, Young Master."
"Good answer," Lu Chen smirked, tapping her nose gently before turning back to the cauldron.
[Ding!]
[Alchemical Progress: 100%!]
[Item Created: 1x Grade-4 Phantom Itching Powder (Colorless, Odorless, Invulnerable to Detoxification Pills)!]
[Item Created: 1x Grade-4 Thunderous Flatulence Essence!]
Lu Chen smiled warmly as he scooped the fine, shimmering powders into small, elegant jade vials. Perfect. Cousin Lu Xiao, your grand entrance at the assembly is going to be unforgettable.
Meanwhile, in an old, run-down manor located in the outer district of the Lu Clan territory.
A youth dressed in simple black training robes sat cross-legged on a stone bed, meditating in the dark. He possessed a sharp, determined face, but his eyes were filled with an intense, burning resentment.
His name was Lu Xiao—the former "trash" of the branch clan who had returned from the Northern Wilderness as a Peak Foundation Establishment genius.
On his left index finger rested a crude, ancient black iron ring etched with faded, rusty runes.
Buzz...
A faint, ghostly white mist seeped out of the ring, condensing into the shadowy figure of a white-bearded old spirit hovering in mid-air.
"Xiao'er," the spirit's ancient voice resonated directly in Lu Xiao's mind, laced with a strange, unusual solemnity. "I just swept my spiritual sense across the main estate of the Lu Clan."
Lu Xiao opened his eyes, a arrogant, cold sneer touching his lips. "Master! Did you see that pampered dog, Lu Chen? Is he still relying on his father's wealth to stack his cultivation realm with pills?"
The old spirit stayed silent for a long moment, his misty eyebrows furrowed in deep thought.
"I saw him," the spirit replied slowly. "His skin is fair, his breathing is calm, and his spirit foundation... is so pure it defies nature. But far worse than his cultivation... is his aura."
"His aura?" Lu Xiao scoffed, balling his fists tightly. "What aura could a spoiled Young Master have?! Three years ago, he looked down on me! He sat in his luxury carriage while I was forced to bow in the mud! At the upcoming Main Assembly, I will defeat him in three moves in front of the entire province! I will show everyone that hard work and destiny overcome noble blood!"
"Xiao'er, listen to me!" the spirit warned, his voice turning strict. "There is something terrifyingly unnatural about that boy! Ordinary geniuses radiate pride or killer intent. But Lu Chen... his eyes hold a deep, chaotic stillness. When my spiritual sense brushed near his courtyard, I felt a faint, chilling sensation—as if he isn't playing by the rules of this world at all!"
"Nonsense!" Lu Xiao stood up, his Peak Foundation Establishment aura flaring with crimson spiritual energy, rattling the dust on the floorboards. "Master, you are overthinking! I have the ancient dragon body technique you taught me! I have high-grade martial skills! A pampered Young Master who has never faced true life-and-death battle stands no chance against me!"
The ancient spirit sighed deeply, looking at his hot-headed disciple with a mixture of helplessness and growing dread.
"Do not be reckless, Xiao'er," the spirit whispered softly, fading back into the ring. "If you fight him... do not let down your guard for even a single second."
Lu Xiao looked at his iron ring, his eyes blazing with dark arrogance and unyielding ambition.
"Reckless?" Lu Xiao sneered into the darkness, a cruel smile forming on his face. "Lu Chen... enjoy your final days as the supreme Young Master. At the assembly, I will p
ull you down from your high altar and step on your face!”