Morning, Inner Sect Herb Garden. Mist and thorns.
The morning mist had yet to fully disperse, strands of it lingering between the spirit fields, refracting a hazy spectrum of light. The air was saturated with the heady fragrance of herbs, the earthy scent of damp soil, and faint, elusive notes of pungency and sweetness—unique to high-grade spirit plants. Dozens of outer sect disciples in coarse gray robes moved carefully among the meticulously divided crop rows, bent over like tireless worker ants. Their movements were cautious yet mechanical, faint spiritual energy flowing at their fingertips as they plucked weeds from fragile seedlings or activated formation plates to summon rain imbued with specific elemental auras. It was a peaceful, almost otherworldly scene—like a painting of an immortal realm.
I stood beneath the heavy archway of the herb garden, carved from millennia-old spiritwood, clutching the jade slip Elder Yunqing had handed me. Its smooth surface was warm to the touch, but the contents inside were anything but—just a cold, emotionless assignment. My gaze swept over this thriving yet rigidly stratified domain. In my sea of consciousness, the Divine Sigil shimmered faintly, as if it had caught the scent of something it deeply craved.
"You're Lin Ye?"
A cold voice, sharp as a winter wind slicing across frozen glass, suddenly rang out behind me—shattering the garden's tranquility.
I turned slowly.
The speaker wore a pristine white robe, his posture straight as a pine. At his waist hung a long sword, its scabbard etched with flowing cloud patterns. He was strikingly handsome—sword brows angled into his temples, nose straight and proud—but those eyes… sharp as tempered steel, devoid of warmth, filled only with scorn and a sense of superiority. Behind him stood two inner sect disciples, their auras steady, their eyes just as arrogant—like loyal hunting hounds flanking their master.
"Yes." My reply was short and low, like a stone sinking into a deep pool—failing to stir even a ripple in his eyes.
The young man in white—Xiao Han—let his gaze sweep over me like a probing needle. From my mud-stained coarse robe to the blood not yet faded from my face—left behind by enduring Zhou Li's Soullock Chains—he took it all in. His lips curled into a sneer, unhidden and razor-sharp.
"Heh. So you're the so-called 'genius' who tore apart an Ironhide Rhino with his bare hands? The one who withstood half of Elder Zhou Li's Nine Nether Soul Chains? Tsk, such tough bones. Quite the murderous aura you've got."
I said nothing. Silence wrapped around me like invisible armor. But deep within my consciousness, the golden glow of the Divine Sigil had already begun to flow—quietly locking onto the spiritual energy rippling around Xiao Han's body. It was sharp, swift, and unpredictable—like the drifting clouds in a storm.
[Replication Target: Inner Sect Elite Disciple - Xiao Han]
[Cultivation Level: Qi Refining Stage 7 (Peak)]
[Technique: Flowing Cloud Sword Arts (Mystic Grade, Intermediate Stage)]
[Innate Talent: Wind-Spirit Body (Minor grade, greatly enhances speed and swordplay)]
[Parsing in progress… Difficulty: Extreme! Energy tier suppression detected! Estimated completion time: Unknown!]
An immense pressure descended upon me—formless but suffocating.
Qi Refining Stage 7, at the peak. Just a step away from Foundation Establishment. And he possessed a Wind-Spirit Body!
The Divine Sigil's feedback was cold and precise, like ice water poured down my spine.
This wasn't someone like Wang Mang.
Copy him? Easier said than done.
Even attempting to parse the flow of his spiritual energy felt like my soul was being shredded by countless razor-thin blades
"Hmph." Xiao Han seemed entirely unfazed by my silence, as if he'd expected it. He let out a cold chuckle, laced with undisguised disdain. "Uncle Yunqing sent you here to work, not to stand around like some wooden post. Or…" His eyes glanced at my clenched fists, clearly suggestive. "...to stir up trouble again."
Before his words even fully faded, he flicked his wrist.
A flash of black steel whistled through the air with a piercing shriek. It was a common iron herb hoe.
I instinctively reached out to catch it.
Bang!
The moment my fingers touched the handle, the seemingly ordinary hoe erupted like a fire rune detonating on contact! A vicious, insidious force burst forth—not a direct explosion, but something more sinister, like a venomous serpent burrowing under the skin. It snaked through my palm's Laogong acupoint and barreled into my meridians with brutal force.
"Urgh—!" A grunt tore from my throat. My body staggered back a half-step uncontrollably. My right arm went numb in an instant, stabbed by countless icy needles. The skin of my palm charred black, wisps of smoke curling into the air. That hidden force wasn't inert—it was alive, rampaging through my meridians, trying to bore its way toward my heart.
[Alert! Invasive foreign spiritual energy detected! Attributes: Wind, Piercing!]
[Attempting analysis… Failed. Target energy tier too high.]
[Attempting to guide… Obstructed. Meridians insufficiently fortified!][Emergency protocol initiated: Converting pain into partial absorption!]
[Remaining energy forcibly suppressed in right arm meridians. Result: Temporary paralysis of right arm. Combat capability reduced by 30%.]
Cold sweat drenched my back instantly.
Such a vicious move! Such precise control! That simple act of tossing a hoe was a trap—and I'd fallen for it hard.
"Tch. Can't even catch a tool properly?" Xiao Han's smirk deepened, like a predator watching an ant try to fight back. "Seems like all those rumors are a bit… exaggerated. A waste is still a waste. That was written in your root assessment."
He deliberately emphasized the words "waste root," his voice quiet but sharp enough to cut stone. The phrase traveled clearly across several nearby plots, drawing suppressed chuckles and malicious glances.
He didn't look at me again—as if I wasn't worth the filth on his boots. With a whirl of white robes, he turned and issued a cold, precise command.
"Today's task: tend to three mu of Crimson Flame Grass in Sector Three-East. By sundown, complete all weeding, loosening of soil, and channeling of the Earthfire Veins. Remember—if even one plant is missing or damaged…"
He turned his head slightly, a glint of poisonous malice in the corner of his eye.
"…you'll be thrown out of this herb garden. Back to whatever gutter you crawled out of."
The two inner sect disciples behind him gave me a look—open mockery written across their faces—then followed behind him like hounds, vanishing into the lingering mist of the distant spirit fields.
I slowly straightened up, ignoring the waves of numbness and sharp pain surging from my right arm. Around me, some eyes were sympathetic, others contemptuous, and some simply watching for sport. I didn't care.
My left hand clenched into a tight fist—nails digging into my palm.
"Heh… the herb garden," I muttered, licking my cracked lips. I tasted the faint tang of blood—bitter, metallic."Not quite the peaceful sanctuary it appears to be."
"Whether it's a dragon's den… or a tiger's lair…""I'll break through it all the same."
Crimson Flame Grass — a Tier Three spirit herb, fiery in nature, thrives only in scorched and blazing soil. It requires the energy of subterranean fire veins to flourish. Its leaves shimmer like flames, infused with potent fire-attribute spiritual energy.
Stepping into Sector Three-East, a heatwave several times more intense than the outside world slammed into me. The air shimmered with distortion from the temperature. The soil beneath my feet was a strange, dark crimson, dry and scorching hot—softening the soles of my shoes as I walked. The three mu of Crimson Flame Grass stretched before me like a field of ground-bound fire, each leaf rimmed with a flickering golden-red glow.
Even standing at the edge of the field, sweat poured from my forehead and temples like streams, soaking through my coarse robe within seconds. The air reeked of sulfur and burnt earth; every breath seared down to my lungs. From afar, other disciples cast glances in my direction—filled with pity and dread. Everyone knew: tending Crimson Flame Grass was the most brutal and dangerous duty in the garden. One slip when channeling fire vein energy, and you'd either burn out your meridians… or burn alive.
I knelt down, fighting the intense heat, and gingerly reached toward a leaf of the nearest stalk.
Szzz—
A faint sizzle. Sharp pain pricked my fingertips. The fire-attributed spiritual energy in the leaf was savage and untamed.
But at the instant that pain flared—the Divine Sigil in my sea of consciousness suddenly quivered!
A strong surge of desire pulsed from within it.
[Detected: High-purity fire-element spirit plant essence!][Compatible for absorption and conversion.][Available conversion paths:
1) Enhance physical fire resistance;
2) Minor repair of sigil essence;
3) Replenish spiritual energy (low efficiency)]
"I can absorb it?!"My heart jolted. Then joy surged—pure and fierce.
This was a gift from the heavens!
The sigil required vast energy to repair and evolve—and so did my own body. These Crimson Flame Grasses, standing right before me, were nothing less than a treasure trove.
Without hesitation, I began to circulate the power of the Divine Sigil.
My palm warmed slightly, and a faint suction formed—delicately drawing a wisp of refined fire spirit energy from the leaf's edge.
"Tsss—!!"A burning sensation, ten times worse than before, ripped up my arm. It felt like a searing iron wire threading through my body. The pain turned my vision black—I nearly collapsed right then and there.
[Warning! Fire spirit energy is overwhelmingly fierce! Meridians nearing critical strain!]
[Pain conversion protocol activated. Conversion efficiency: 30%.]
[Fire resistance slightly increased. Sigil core integrity: marginally restored.]
It hurt like hell.
But it worked.
The searing pain slowly dulled. I felt my skin gradually adapt to the surrounding heat, ever so slightly.
"To hell with it." I gritted my teeth, ignoring the protests of my meridians, and pushed forward to absorb a second stalk—then a third…
The Divine Sigil became a ravenous furnace, greedily devouring the refined fire energy. Each absorption came with brutal pain. Sweat mixed with the oils being drawn from my flesh by the heat, streaming down my face and body. But strangely, the numbness in my right arm—left by Xiao Han's earlier trick—began to ease under the surge of fire energy, shifting into a kind of prickling tension instead.
The efficiency was abysmal. The pain was excruciating. The gains? Tiny.
But meat is meat—even from a mosquito's leg.Especially when you're starving, surrounded by wolves.
Just as I was fully focused, gritting my teeth to endure the pain while absorbing the seventh stalk of Crimson Flame Grass—
"Lin Ye! What the hell are you doing?!"
A furious roar exploded behind me like thunder, laced with the reek of damp soil and rage. The shout hit me like a hammer, my eardrums ringing from the impact. My concentration shattered—and in that instant, I lost control over the stream of fire-element energy I was guiding.
Boom!
A burst of scorching fire exploded in my palm—tiny, but fierce!
"Argh!"I let out a grunt of pain as the searing heat scorched my flesh.A sharp, agonizing burn flared through my hand, the scent of charred skin instantly flooding the air.
I jerked my head up, pupils constricting.
A disciple nearly nine feet tall, built like a towering iron fortress, charged toward me like a raging bull! His face was broad and brutish, his skin dark and coarse, and his gray deacon robe—clearly one size too small—was stretched tight over his bulging muscles. This was none other than Wang Mang, the outer sect deacon responsible for overseeing the eastern district! Behind him trailed several other outer sect disciples, all wearing hostile expressions. Among them, one pale-faced youth with a guilty, evasive gaze caught my eye—it was Zhao Ming, the yellow-robed boy I had saved during the illusion trial.
Wang Mang's bell-like eyes locked onto the few Scarlet Flame Herbs I had just absorbed, then snapped to the charred marks on my palm. Fury twisted his face, as if flames would burst forth at any moment.
"You bastard! Why is the fire spiritual energy in these herbs dissipating?! Their glow is clearly dimmed! Speak! What evil sorcery did you use?! Are you siphoning off the essence of our sect's precious herbs?!"
His voice boomed like a cracked gong, instantly drawing the attention of every nearby laboring disciple. One by one, suspicious and accusatory eyes turned toward me.
"Senior… Senior Brother Wang! Senior Brother Lin… he just arrived. Maybe… maybe he doesn't know how to properly tend the Scarlet Flame Herbs. He probably just mishandled them a little…" Zhao Ming summoned his courage, stammering in a voice as soft as a mosquito's.
"Get lost! Who said you could speak?!" Wang Mang didn't even look at him. With a sweep of his fan-sized palm, he sent the scrawny Zhao Ming flying several meters, nearly crashing into a nearby spirit field. His calloused, rock-like hand, pulsing with heavy earth-element spiritual power, suddenly lunged for my collar. A fierce gust followed, making the air whimper with pressure.
"Elder Yunqing sent you to the herb garden to repent and labor, not to ruin the sect's treasured medicinal plants, you mongrel!"
The gust slammed into me. Wang Mang's hand clamped down like iron tongs, full of oppressive strength. My gaze sharpened. I instinctively pulled back, my left hand flashing out like lightning to parry his wrist!
[Target Selected: Outer Sect Deacon Disciple — Wang Mang]
[Cultivation Level: Qi Refining, Mid Stage (Fifth Layer)]
[Cultivation Technique: Art of Thick Earth (Yellow Rank, High Grade)]
[Innate Talent: Herculean Strength (Earth Element Amplification, Comparable to Sixth Layer Strength)]
[Parsing in Progress... Minor Spiritual Difference Detected. Parsing Speed: Moderate]
Boom!
Our arms collided with a muffled crash. A tremendous force surged through me, sending a painful numbness shooting up my left arm. My blood churned violently, my footing faltered, and I staggered back three steps before barely regaining balance. Deep footprints marked the scorching, dark-red soil beneath my feet.
What terrifying strength! So the rumors about his Herculean Strength were true!
"Don't understand the rules?" I suppressed the churning blood in my chest, shook the numbness out of my left arm, and locked my icy gaze onto Wang Mang. "Then perhaps Senior Brother Wang would be so kind as to teach me properly?"
The divine rune in my sea of consciousness was analyzing rapidly. The massive, heavy force within Wang Mang—like the movement of tectonic plates—was being broken down and imprinted piece by piece.
"Teach? I'll cripple your arm today, you useless trash! Make sure you never forget the rules of the medicine garden!" Wang Mang was completely enraged by my provocative glare. His fleshy face trembled, eyes burning with murderous light. He didn't waste another word—roaring like a mad bull, he charged at me again!
Thick, earthy yellow energy surged around his fists, forming what looked like solid stone gauntlets. Each punch he threw carried the force of a crashing boulder, accompanied by deafening whooshes. Every strike was aimed straight at my vitals with devastating intent!
"Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!"
The gale of fists howled through the air. The pressure was overwhelming—like a mountain crashing down. I was forced to dodge and block relentlessly. Each collision between his fists and my arms created a dull thud that sent waves of pain through my body. My bones felt as though they were cracking; blood surged in my chest, and another trace of iron-tasting fluid trickled from the corner of my mouth.
The numbness in my right arm further disrupted my coordination. Wang Mang's combat style was wide and sweeping—clumsy at first glance—but paired with his terrifying brute strength, his attacks covered a massive range, locking down nearly all of my escape routes.
I had no choice but to rely on the rudimentary form of Flowing Cloud Steps I had just copied and the resilience granted by Bloodshard Bone Tempering to endure the onslaught.
"Bang!"A heavy hook grazed my ribcage. Although I twisted to deflect most of the force, the remaining impact still made my bones creak in protest. Agonizing pain shot through me.
"Pfft!"The next punch crashed into my crossed arms. I couldn't suppress the surge of blood any longer—vomiting it out in a thick, crimson arc that stained the coarse fabric of my robe. My body flew backward like a severed kite, crashing heavily into the searing Crimson Flame Grass behind me, flattening a swath of the blood-red spiritual herbs. The burning leaves scalded my back.
Humiliation. Utter humiliation.
Around me, a wave of stifled gasps and sharp intakes of breath echoed. Zhao Ming's face turned pale as death, trembling as he tried to rush over—only to freeze in place. The other disciples watched with knowing eyes, some sneering with schadenfreude.
"Get up, trash!" Wang Mang sneered, approaching step by step like a triumphant general. His massive shadow loomed over me. "Weren't you acting tough just now? Didn't you want me to teach you? Why are you lying there like a dead dog now?"
He raised his thick-soled beast hide boot, brimming with crushing force, and stomped down mercilessly toward my injured right arm. If this stomp landed, shattered bones would be the best-case outcome.
The shadow of death loomed—in that split second of crisis—
[Talent 'Giant Strength' copied successfully!]
[Target's spiritual energy trajectory analysis: 90% complete. Partial simulation available!]
A massive force—heavy as the earth itself—erupted from the divine rune in my sea of consciousness, flooding into my sore, numb arms! Earth-yellow lines flickered faintly across my skin.
"Rrraaagh!"A growl, laced with pain and fury, erupted from deep within my chest.
I didn't dodge that deadly stomp. Instead, I coiled my body, channeling every ounce of strength into my left arm—which, though battered, was still more intact than the right.
Left fist clenched, muscles bulging to the brink, veins pulsing under my skin. With the newly acquired Giant Strengthtalent and the tenacity granted by Bloodshard Bone Tempering, I didn't evade—I countered.
Like a cannonball shot from below, I punched upward, aiming directly at Wang Mang's descending ankle!
An injury for an injury. Life for life.
"GET THE HELL OFF ME!"
BOOM!!!
Fist met boot in a thunderous impact—like two massive boulders colliding!A shockwave exploded outward, flattening and tearing through nearby Crimson Flame Grass. Scorching soil and shredded plants flew in all directions.
Crack!The sickening sound of bone fracturing rang through the air. Whose bone? That was the question.
"AAAAAARGH—!!!"A scream, raw and guttural, broke through the tension.
Wang Mang's thick, pillar-like calf twisted at a grotesque angle. The arrogant smirk on his face froze, replaced by horror and excruciating pain.His massive body lost balance and toppled like a felled tree.
BANG!He crashed to the ground, raising clouds of dust. Clutching his mangled leg, he thrashed and screamed like a wounded beast, his sweat mixing with the dirt on his twisted, agonized face—no trace left of the bully from moments ago.
I knelt amid the flattened Crimson Flame Grass. My left arm hung limply—its skin an unnatural purplish-red, trembling uncontrollably as though its bones had shattered completely.
My meridians burned with pain, and my breath came in ragged gasps. Forcibly triggering a strength beyond my body's limit came at a heavy cost.But my eyes—those eyes—were like a wounded wolf's.Fierce. Cold. Locked onto Wang Mang's wailing form.
The field fell silent.So silent you could hear a pin drop.
All the disciples around, even those who had followed Wang Mang, were frozen like statues, mouths agape, eyes bulging.Zhao Ming clutched his mouth in disbelief, his whole body shaking like a leaf in the wind.
Tearing apart a rampaging rhino with your bare hands might be a myth.But this scene—this punch that broke a fifth-layer Qi Refiner's leg in plain sight—was undeniably real.
A so-called "trash," freshly entered into the sect, burdened with a crippled spiritual root, bullied by Senior Brother Xiao Han and beaten bloody by Wang Mang…actually turned the tables in the most desperate moment?
"Now…" I gritted my teeth, ignoring the tearing pain in my left arm and the stabbing throb in my chest. Supporting myself with my still-functional right hand against the searing ground, I struggled to rise. Each word felt like it was being squeezed out from between my blood-soaked teeth, laced with an iron tang.
"…who's teaching who now?"
Silence.Only Wang Mang's pig-like howls echoed in the sweltering air, grating against every eardrum.
Fear. Awe. Disbelief.All those emotions swirled in the eyes of the surrounding disciples.The way they looked at me—had completely changed.
But just as that silence was about to be broken—
"Good.""Very good."
The voice was cold. Colder than frost from the ninth hell.It wasn't loud, yet it carried a bone-piercing chill that instantly cut through Wang Mang's cries and sank into everyone's heart like a dagger.
Xiao Han.
He had appeared without a sound at the edge of the spiritual field, no more than ten paces from me. Still clad in his spotless white robe, his face as striking and aloof as ever.
With an eerie calmness, he drew the longsword at his waist.
The blade sang—a clear, ringing note like a dragon's cry—as it emerged from its scabbard, reflecting the crimson glow of the Flame Grass.Its shimmering edge gleamed with a biting cold that made hearts seize in terror.
"First day in the medicine garden, and you've already caused two incidents: suspected theft of spiritual herb essence... and now maliciously injuring a deacon-level disciple."Xiao Han's voice was tranquil, his tone unreadable.
But deep in those icy eyes, a fire was burning—not just fury at his authority being challenged…but a trace of killing intent, cold and deadly.
"Lin Ye, it seems you really don't understand the rules.""Or perhaps… your bones are too hard."
His voice dropped an octave."You need someone to… soften them up."
And as he spoke that final word—
Boom.A crushing pressure, far beyond anything Wang Mang had emitted, exploded into the air.
The invisible weight fell like a mountain.The aura of a peak-stage Qi Refining Level Seven disciple—a tangible force—descended upon the entire eastern quadrant.
The air froze.
The burning heat gave way to a biting chill.
All the disciples, including even the wailing Wang Mang, immediately went still.Faces turned ghostly pale.Bodies trembled as if a giant had gripped their lungs.Breathing became agony.
And me—I took the full brunt of it.
Under that terrifying pressure, I felt like a paper boat caught in a tsunami.My body, which had just begun to rise, was forced back down, my spine bending under the weight.Bones creaked with protest.Pain from my left arm and the numbness in the right were magnified tenfold.
The divine rune in my sea of consciousness flickered wildly, desperately trying to shield me from the psychic assault.But the cold feedback was merciless:
[Absolute spiritual energy suppression! Copying process forcibly interrupted!]
[Physical endurance reaching critical limit! Unable to bear target's talent!]
[Warning! Extreme danger! Immediate escape recommended!]
Escape?Where could I escape to?
Even moving a single finger had become nearly impossible under this crushing aura.
Xiao Han moved.
There was no thunderous burst of power, no shaking of the earth—Just a single, simple step forward.
Swish!His figure melted into the wind, leaving behind only a faint afterimage.In the blink of an eye, he had crossed ten paces and appeared right before me—like a ghost emerging from thin air.
Too fast!Faster than my eyes could even register.
Windborne Physique.
That gleaming longsword in his hand—cold, without a trace of mortal warmth—glinted in the sun as it pierced through the air like a whisper from a lover.Deceptively gentle, yet faster than lightning.
It aimed directly at my dantian.
Flowing Cloud Sword Technique — "Calm as the Wind."
That strike seemed casual—almost graceful—but it sealed off every avenue of escape.
The sword energy it carried could pierce solid steel, and it was aimed precisely at the core of any cultivator's being—the dantian.
This wasn't just punishment.It was annihilation.He intended to cripple me.
No room to dodge.No strength to block.
Death—cold and clear—loomed closer than ever.
"AHHH—!"Despair and fury burst from my lungs in a soul-rending roar.Instincts of survival squeezed out the final dregs of energy from my body.The divine rune in my sea of consciousness ignited into blinding radiance.
[Pain Conversion: Overdrive Mode Activated!]
[Bloodshard Bone Tempering: Extreme Trigger!]
[Blackiron Armor: Full Power!]
[All defense—converge at one point!]
I abandoned all thoughts of dodging or blocking.Gathering the last remnants of my strength, the faint fire-elemental energy I had just absorbed, and even forcibly drawing upon my life force, I poured everything into my left fist!
At the brink of death, the numbness in my right arm was miraculously pierced through—just enough for it to move!
I crossed both arms tightly in front of my dantian, locking them together like a human shield.
In an instant, my skin turned a dark metallic hue, glowing faintly with stone-like textures and streaks of blood-colored killing aura.I curled inward, my entire body like a metallic hedgehog bracing for impact.
"Shhk—!"
The tip of the sword touched the center of my crossed arms.
There was no earth-shattering explosion—only a sickeningly soft sound, like a hot blade sinking into butter, that made my teeth ache.
Time froze.Everything halted.
The next second—
"CRACK—!"
The metallic sheen covering my body, along with the rock-like textures and blood aura, shattered like fragile glass!The killing intent was shredded to smoke by the sword's violent energy.
A force—sharp beyond measure, freezing cold, and laced with a terrifying will to destroy—tore through the layered defense of my arms with brutal dominance.It pierced straight through me!
The Blackiron Armor—useless.
Agony.Ripping. Crippling. Soul-searing.A pain that stabbed through my bones and deep into my soul!
"RAAAGHHH—!!!"
I let out a shriek so shrill, so desperate, it no longer sounded human.
My body flew backward as if struck by a siege hammer, hurtling away faster than I had come.
Bang! Bang! Bang!I crashed through seven or eight thick ironwood stakes that marked the field boundaries before finally slamming into the stone edge of the spiritual field over ten meters away.I tumbled several times like a ragdoll, leaving behind a blood-soaked trail and a swath of crushed spiritual herbs.
My arms—especially the already battered left—now hung limp and twisted at unnatural angles.Jagged bone pierced through torn flesh, exposed to the scorching air.Blood gushed like a fountain from the deep, bone-deep slashes across my arms and chest, soaking the boiling ground beneath me in crimson.
Though my dantian had narrowly escaped being directly pierced, the sword energy that had invaded my body now rampaged through my meridians like countless microscopic wind blades, bringing excruciating, tearing pain.My spiritual energy spiraled into chaos.
Mouthful after mouthful of blood surged uncontrollably from my lips.
I had lost.Completely. Utterly.
In the face of absolute power and overwhelming cultivation,all my copied talents, all my Bone Tempering resilience—were meaningless.
Just one sword strike.Like a gale crushing dead leaves—reduced all my resistance to dust.
My vision blurred with blood and sweat.Pain crashed over me in waves, threatening to drown out my consciousness.
I could feel it—my life, draining out with every heartbeat, every drop of blood.
"Trash."
Xiao Han's voice came again—cold and utterly scornful.
He walked slowly toward me, eyes looking down upon my broken body like I was some filthy insect squirming in its final moments.
He lifted one foot—immaculately white boots still spotless—and with deliberate, humiliating pressure, stepped on my bloodied face.
He ground his heel in.
"Remember today's lesson.""In the medicine garden, my word is law.""Your life—for now—is spared."
He pressed harder.My cheekbone groaned beneath the force.
Shame and agony pushed blackness into my vision.
"If it happens again…"He leaned down, whispering like the chill of death:"…I'll throw you into the pill furnace myself and burn you into ash."
"Wang Mang. Drag him away."
He lifted his boot like it had stepped in filth, wiping it disdainfully on the ground before turning to leave.White robes fluttering in the wind, as if he'd simply finished swatting a fly.
Silence returned.In the wreckage of the field, only my labored, ragged breathing remained.And the slow, rhythmic drip of blood hitting scorched soil.
The gazes of the onlookers—once filled with awe and disbelief—returned to their original forms:Fear.Pity.And a trace of schadenfreude.
Zhao Ming tried to rush toward me, only to be forcefully held back.His eyes were red, fists clenched, powerless to help.
I lay in the scalding pool of my own blood.Vision fading.Every nerve ablaze with pain.
Both arms likely shattered.My meridians shredded by the lingering sword energy.
Failure.Bitter and humiliating—gnawing at my soul like venomous fangs.
That final stomp from Xiao Han…didn't just crush my face.
It shattered the fleeting pride I had felt after defeating Wang Mang.
"Power… still not enough… nowhere near enough…"
That thought burned into my soul—the only thing anchoring me to consciousness.
The spiritual energy of the herb garden remained thick, the plants lush and thriving.
But in my eyes…they had become nothing but cold thorns, fangs of a beast waiting to devour.
This garden wasn't a sanctuary.It was the maw of a monster.
And this path—paved with blood and shattered bones—
was only just beginning.
Failure and defeat—were the very first imprints on that road.