The central valley of the Hidden Cloud Valley buzzed with frantic activity.
Groups of Lin Clan disciples moved from tree to tree, meticulously harvesting the small, glowing Crimson Spirit Fruits and sealing them within specialized jade containers.
For most of these outer court youths, the harvest was proceeding without a hitch, and they were already celebrating their impending entrance into the Inner Sect.
At the edge of a small clearing, Lin Hao stood with his hands clasped tightly behind his back, his brow furrowed in a deep scowl.
Three hours had passed since the trials began, yet neither the rogue cultivators nor his younger brother, Lin Cheng, had sent word.
“Young Master Hao, do not worry,” a sycophantic disciple named Lin Feng said, offering a groveling smile.
“Lin Cheng took four capable fighters with him to the northern sectors. Even if that broken-root waste managed to evade the bandits, he stands absolutely no chance against your brother. By now, Ye Chen is likely a corpse buried beneath the mountain frost.”
Lin Hao didn’t answer immediately.
He touched his lower abdomen, feeling the perfectly smooth circulation of his Qi—a direct result of the secret chant Ye Chen had given him in the outer treasury.
A part of his mind knew that a boy who possessed such esoteric, flawless martial knowledge could not be simple.
But his overwhelming pride refused to let him acknowledge it.
“He must die here,” Lin Hao muttered, his voice sharp and low.
“If he leaves this valley alive, his existence will remain a permanent stain on my reputation.”
Before Lin Feng could reply, a sudden crash erupted from the dense brush at the northern entrance of the clearing.
The branches parted violently, and a figure stumbled out into the open.
The surrounding disciples gasped, dropping their jade boxes in astonishment.
It was the fourth lackey who had fled from Ye Chen’s cave.
His face was caked in dried mud and tears, his outer sect tunic torn to shreds, and his right arm hung uselessly at his side, dripping blood onto the grass. Follow the newest chapters on novelping.com.
He didn’t look like a proud cultivator; he looked like a broken animal fleeing a slaughterhouse.
“Young Master! Young Master Hao!” the boy screamed, collapsing onto his knees at Lin Hao’s feet, his body trembling so violently his teeth rattled.
Lin Hao’s heart plunged into a cold abyss.
He stepped forward, grabbing the boy by his hair and forcing his head up.
“What happened?! Where is my brother? Where is Lin Cheng?!”
“He… he is ruined, Young Master!” the lackey wept, choking on his own blood.
“The spring… we found a spiritual spring in the north cavern. But Ye Chen… Ye Chen was already there! He killed the spearmen with his bare hands. He broke Lin Ming’s group… and then… and then your brother…”
“Speak, you useless wretch!” Lin Hao roared, his aura flaring wildly and crushing the grass beneath his boots.
“Ye Chen shattered his sword in a single strike!” the boy shrieked in absolute terror.
“He caught him by the throat and… and he pierced his dantian! Lin Cheng’s cultivation is gone! He is a permanent waste! Ye Chen told us to tell you… that your debt is growing, and he is coming to collect it!”
The entire clearing fell into a deathly, suffocating silence.
The disciples stared at the bleeding lackey with wide, disbelieving eyes.
The Third Elder’s grandson…
crippled inside the trial grounds?
By the famous broken-root waste?
It sounded like an insane fable, a madman’s delusion.
“Impossible…” Lin Hao staggered back a step, his fingers slipping from the lackey’s hair.
His younger brother—the sibling he had protected and pampered with clan resources—was now a useless cripple.
“I told you, Lin Hao. Your dogs are entirely too loud.”
A calm, even voice drifted from the shadow of the northern path, cutting through the heavy silence like an executioner’s axe.
The crowd of disciples instinctively turned their heads, their breaths catching in their throats.
Walking slowly out of the grey mist was Ye Chen.
He carried no bags of fruits, and his basic iron sword remained resting quietly in its scabbard.
Yet, as he stepped into the light of the clearing, an invisible, bone-chilling pressure seemed to expand from his small frame, making the air feel heavy and freezing cold.
The dark grime of impurities was gone, and his young skin radiated a faint, flawless silver sheen.
Lin Hao’s eyes locked onto him, his vision turning red with an all-consuming, murderous fury.
He drew his long sword, the blade vibrating with a high-pitched, lethal hum as he channeled every single ounce of his Third Layer Qi Condensation energy.
“Ye Chen!” Lin Hao screamed, his voice turning into a ragged roar.
“I don’t care what demonic art you used to fix your roots! Today, I will tear your heart out with my bare hands!”
Ye Chen stopped ten paces away, his hands loosely tucked into his wide grey sleeves.
He looked at the raging young master with a profound, stagnant indifference that made Lin Hao’s blood run cold.
“Your brother used the exact same words before I emptied his core,” Ye Chen said softly, his dark eyes carrying a terrifyingly ancient depth.
“Come, Lin Hao. Let us see if your sword is as grand as your arrogance.”