The Xuanyuan clan's main hall was vast, its towering pillars carved with ancient dragons and war scenes of ancestors long passed. Incense smoke coiled lazily toward the rafters, unable to dispel the tension gathering below.
The younger generation stood assembled in ordered rows.
Xuanyuan Zhen entered quietly.
Even without deliberate intent, he carried an aura different from before—steady, restrained, faintly oppressive. A few disciples glanced at him before quickly looking away.
At the head of the hall sat Patriarch Xuanyuan Bei.
When he rose, silence fell like a descending curtain.
"In one month," he began, voice calm yet resonant, "the Xuanyuan clan will participate in a martial exchange."
The words echoed across stone and timber.
"This exchange will be conducted jointly with the Lin clan and the Yan clan."
A subtle stir moved through the disciples.
The Lin clan—the ruling family of Sky River City.
The Yan clan—fierce, proud, dominant in fire-based techniques.
Xuanyuan Bei's gaze swept across the hall.
"This is no mere contest of pride. The three great sects will be observing."
A pause.
"The Origin Sword Sect. The War God Sect. And the Heavenly Dao Sect."
At the last name, something shifted in the atmosphere.
The Heavenly Dao Sect.
Xuanyuan Hao had once stood where they stood now—radiant, unmatched—before departing for that distant sect. His name still lingered in the clan's memory like a fading legend.
"This exchange," the Patriarch continued, "will determine who is qualified to compete for entry into these sects."
Excitement flickered in many eyes.
Fear followed closely behind.
"The strongest prodigies among the three clans are from peak Qi Condensation and early Foundation Establishment Realm."
The weight of those realms pressed heavily upon the hall.
Foundation Establishment.
The realm where one's Dao foundation solidified—far beyond mere accumulation of Qi.
Xuanyuan Zhen's expression remained composed, but inwardly he calculated.
He was only at the second stage of Qi Condensation.
The gap was undeniable.
At the forefront of the Xuanyuan clan stood Xuanyuan Wei.
Eighteen years old.
Early Foundation Establishment Realm.
His aura was calm and deep, like still water concealing immense force.
Beside him stood Xuanyuan Rou'er.
Seventeen.
Peak Qi Condensation Realm.
Her presence was refined, but there was sharpness beneath her elegance.
The Lin clan boasted Lin Feng—early Foundation Establishment and a sword cultivator who had comprehended sword intent.
Intent!
The very thing Xuanyuan Zhen felt lacking in his own cultivation.
They also had Lin Teng, who stood at peak Qi Condensation, known for swift and ruthless combat.
The Yan clan was no weaker.
Yan Di, early Foundation Establishment.
Yan Yang, peak Qi Condensation and bearer of a Fire Spirit Physique.
Each one was a true talent.
Each one stood multiple realms above him.
Xuanyuan Zhen's purple-golden Qi sea churned slowly within his dantian.
His physiques were unmatched.
His blood Qi boiled like a raging volcano beneath his skin.
But realm difference was real.
One month.
Thirty days.
It was not enough—unless he forced it to be enough.
"The clan will allocate resources to selected disciples," Xuanyuan Bei concluded. "The list will be announced tomorrow."
As the assembly dispersed, Xuanyuan Zhen stepped into the courtyard.
The sky stretched wide above him.
If he wished to stand on that stage—
He would have to climb.
And climb violently.
---
City Lord's Mansion
The Lin clan estate was built like a sovereign palace.
Tall crimson gates. Guard towers at each corner. Spiritual formations embedded beneath the stone courtyard.
Within the inner hall, silence hung heavy.
Lin Yun knelt at the center of polished black marble flooring.
Before him stood Lin Dong, the city lord of Sky River City.
A Nascent Soul Realm cultivator.
His mere presence distorted the air faintly, spiritual pressure so refined it did not leak—yet the space around him felt thick, like one standing beneath a mountain.
Lin Yun's back was bent low.
A sharp crack echoed through the hall.
Lin Yun staggered sideways, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth.
He dared not resist.
Lin Dong's expression was cold as winter frost.
"You go outside," he said slowly, voice calm but heavy with authority, "cause trouble without thought, and return after being beaten in public."
Each word felt like a hammer.
"Do you know what that represents?"
Lin Yun clenched his fists against the floor.
"…Father…"
"Disgrace."
The word fell like a verdict.
"You are the son of the City Lord. My son."
Lin Dong's eyes narrowed slightly.
"And yet you lack judgment."
He did not shout.
He did not roar.
That made it worse.
"I tolerated your arrogance," Lin Dong continued, "because strength can temper it. But to provoke someone you cannot suppress? To be humiliated before witnesses?"
His spiritual aura stirred faintly.
The candles in the hall flickered violently.
Lin Yun's breathing grew ragged.
Nascent Soul pressure was not something a mere Qi Condensation cultivator could endure lightly.
After a long silence, Lin Dong's aura receded.
"You are foolish," he said at last.
Lin Yun bowed lower, shame and hatred twisting within him.
But then—
"You are still my son."
Lin Yun looked up slightly.
Lin Dong turned toward the shadows of the hall.
"Come."
A dark-robed attendant stepped forward and knelt.
"Investigate."
His tone was level.
"I want the identity of the one who injured my son."
A pause.
"Background. Cultivation. Affiliations."
The attendant bowed deeply.
"Yes, City Lord."
As the figure disappeared into the darkness, Lin Dong clasped his hands behind his back and gazed out toward the distant lights of Sky River City.
His son might be troublesome.
He might even deserve discipline.
But the dignity of the Lin clan could not be trampled.
If someone dared strike his blood—
Then that person would soon learn what it meant to provoke the city lord of Sky River City.