No one in the hall spoke.
The lingering heat from that tiny flame still clung to skin and robes—not enough to burn, just enough to remind everyone that something in their understanding had cracked.
This was not the crude fire of Body Tempering martial artists.
This was law.
Third-level Fire—Creation—folded into a casual demonstration, compressed into a wisp smaller than a candle, yet more terrifying than any raging blaze they had ever seen.
Na Yi's fingers tightened at her sides until the knuckles faintly whitened.
Na Shui swallowed, throat dry, feeling the echo of that flame on her skin.
On the upper seat, Sun Sifan was the first to move.
The Heavenly Abode elder slowly sat back down, fingers pressing into the arm of his chair until the joints creaked. His gaze on Ren had lost all trace of earlier politeness; it was heavy now, the weighty silence of a man who had stood at cultivation's border for decades and, in a single breath, glimpsed a path he had never known existed.
"Law essence…" he murmured, almost under his breath. "At Pulse Condensation…"
Even in Seven Profound Valleys, geniuses who could truly touch the essence of an elemental law before Xiantian were rarer than phoenix feathers. For someone in a remote kingdom like Sky Fortune, bearing Pulse Condensation cultivation at most, it was an absurdity.
If he says he's from some hidden sect, I might believe it, Sun Sifan thought.
But the more he watched, the more that label refused to settle.
Ren's aura wasn't quite like any sect expert he had ever met.
Too deep.
Too still.
Too… old.
Not "old" in body, but in feeling.
Ren pulled his hand back, rubbing his thumb idly against his fingers as if checking for soot. There was none, of course. Law didn't leave such mundane traces.
He looked up and smiled.
"Oh my," he said lightly. "I didn't mean to make the room that quiet."
The tension in the air wavered, like a bowstring loosened a fraction.
Hong Xi let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His heart was still pounding; the echo of that tiny flame, the way the world itself had seemed to hold its breath, refused to fade.
"Sir Ren," Sun Sifan said at last, voice steadying. "You said you wished to guide juniors. After seeing this… this old man admits he is tempted. But Seven Profound Martial House is not some roadside sect. Without clear rules, we cannot simply hand disciples over—"
"I'd be disappointed if you did," Ren cut in gently.
Several elders blinked, momentarily wrong-footed.
He went on, tone relaxed, as if they were discussing the price of tea instead of shaking the foundations of their understanding.
"If you were the sort of martial house that would toss its disciples into the hands of any stranger with a flashy technique," he said, "I'd turn around and walk out. I don't have time to fix that kind of rot."
There was no arrogance in his voice.
Just simple statement.
Na Shui's lips twitched despite the pressure pressing down on her.
He's scolding them, she realized faintly.
In Seven Profound Martial House.
Sun Sifan's eyes narrowed. Somehow, the reprimand didn't land like an insult. It felt… like something an elder might say to a junior sect that had grown complacent.
"Then what does Sir propose?" he asked calmly.
Ren's gaze flicked to Na Yi and Na Shui beside him, then returned to the elders.
"Simple," he said. "I don't want your official positions. I don't want your authority. That would just tangle me up in your politics."
His smile curved a touch more, easy and unhurried.
"Give me something more practical."
Sun Sifan's brows rose slightly. "Such as?"
"Status enough that no one bothers me when I walk in your halls," Ren said. "The right to hold open lectures on martial intent and law comprehension for anyone who dares to listen. And the right to take disciples if someone catches my eye."
He tilted his head, as if making a small concession.
"In return, you get methods that can turn swamp witches into Altering Muscles juniors with combat strength superior to Bone Forging 'geniuses'… and martial intent at Small Success."
His tone was light.
The impact of the words was not.
Several elders' gazes snapped, almost involuntarily, toward Na Yi and Na Shui.
They had already sensed it—the solidity of the girls' foundations, the way true essence flowed through their meridians with a smoothness that put many inner court disciples to shame, the faint, coiled presence of something like Intent clinging to their blood vitality.
If this is real…
Hong Xi's throat bobbed.
"Sir speaks of… 'lectures'," another Heavenly Abode elder said, forcing his heart to calm. "Does Sir intend to share all of these methods freely?"
Ren chuckled.
"If I gave everything away in one day, what would I use to drag your geniuses forward later?" he said. "No. I'll show enough to open their eyes and give them a direction. The true depth… will depend on their fate, their talent, and whether they have the guts to knock on my door."
The straightforward nakedness of that made several elders' ears burn.
Cultivation, stripped of flowery phrases and false modesty.
Sun Sifan tapped the arm of his chair once, fingers steady now.
"Very well," he said at last. "Seven Profound Martial House has the institution of 'guest instructors'—wandering experts invited to stay temporarily and lecture the disciples. We have never granted that status at the Pulse Condensation realm before, but…"
He glanced toward the still-fading glow of the bone-age crystal, then at the space where the wisp of law fire had been.
"Today will be the exception."
He stood.
The slight movement drew every gaze in the hall.
"From this moment on," Sun Sifan declared, voice ringing through the chamber like a bell, "Ren Ming will serve as Guest Instructor of Seven Profound Martial House. He may freely enter the instructional grounds of Human Hall, Earth Hall, and Heavenly Abode. If he wishes to hold a lecture, our halls will cooperate."
The other elders exchanged quick looks.
Some disapproved.
Some were wary.
All were curious.
One by one, they rose and cupped their fists.
"Guest Instructor Ren."
The title wasn't high in the strict hierarchy of sects.
But the weight behind those voices was real.
Ren returned the salute with a relaxed, precise bow—neither humble nor arrogant, the easy politeness of someone who had stood in far, far higher halls without being impressed.
"Then I'll trouble you for a bit of space," he said, straightening. "Since I'm already here, we may as well start quickly. Call your disciples. All three halls."
Hong Xi blinked. "Now?"
Ren smiled. The expression was casual, almost lazy… but the light in his eyes was anything but.
"Do you want them to waste another month fumbling around the edges of intent they can't even name?" he asked mildly. "I don't."
Sun Sifan's fingers stilled.
He looked toward the elders of Human Hall and Earth Hall.
"…Pass the order," he said.
There was a heartbeat of silence.
Then Hong Xi cupped his fists, bowed, and left the hall with brisk, controlled steps that were just short of running.
Outside, the signal spread like wildfire.
Within an hour, Seven Profound Martial House's main training field began to fill.
…
Seven Profound Martial House's main training field had seen countless mornings—countless drills, countless sparring matches, countless shouts of instructors correcting stances until their throats went raw.
But today's gathering did not feel like training.
It felt like a storm being summoned.
Disciples poured in from every direction, uniforms and insignias mixing like currents: Human Hall's outer court juniors in simpler robes, steps hurried and eyes wide; Earth Hall's inner court elites with steadier breaths and sharper gazes; Heavenly Abode's chosen walking with quiet pride, their presence like invisible blades that made the crowd unconsciously part around them.
The order had been brief.
All three halls. Main field. Now.
No reason given.
That alone was enough to make rumors multiply.
"Did something happen in the depository?"
"I heard the Martial House Master is coming!"
"No, I heard it's a senior from Seven Profound Valleys—"
"Idiot, why would a Valley elder come to our training field for no reason?"
Voices overlapped, then faded as more important figures arrived.
Instructors stepped onto the stone platforms at the field's edges, true essence circulating as they enforced rough order. Elders took their seats higher up, overlooking the arena like a tribunal. Sun Sifan sat there as well, expression unreadable, hands resting on his knees as if he were very deliberately not gripping the chair again the way he had in the hall.
Hong Xi stood to one side, arms crossed, jaw tight. He looked like a man who'd been told the rules of the world had changed overnight and was still deciding whether to be furious or grateful.
The array pillars around the field hummed faintly, lines of light pulsing inside them as they circulated heaven and earth origin energy. Under the morning sun, the entire field felt like the heart of the kingdom's martial path.
And then—
Ren walked out.
No flourish. No announcement.
He just stepped onto the field like someone crossing a street.
A cloak hung easy over his shoulders. His hands were tucked into his sleeves as if he were merely out for a stroll to watch the weather. His aura, at a glance, was restrained—but not the suffocated restraint of someone weak.
It was the restraint of depth.
Like a lake that looked shallow in bright light, until you realized you couldn't see the bottom.
The field quieted in waves. Whispers died when they reached his radius, as if sound itself was reluctant to draw too close.
Most disciples only felt confusion.
He's young.
He doesn't wear our insignia.
Is he from an allied clan?
Is he a new instructor?
Somewhere near the front, a cluster of Heavenly Abode disciples stiffened. Their reactions weren't like the rest. Their faces changed too quickly, too sharply.
Zhu Yan stood among them.
He had come wrapped in layers—literal and metaphorical. Under his robe, bandages hid a wound that still burned when his blood circulated too fast. The diagonal scar across his chest was not something a healer could erase in a week, no matter how many precious medicines he swallowed.
He had told himself he was here because the order was absolute.
He had told himself he was here because if he did not come, people would talk.
He had told himself he was here to see what nonsense the elders were playing at—so he could report it later to those who mattered.
Then Ren stepped out.
And Zhu Yan's face drained of color so fast it was as if all the blood in him had fled to his scar.
That smile.
That relaxed posture.
That casual way of standing that had made Zhu Yan's Burning Sun Spear feel like a child's tantrum thrown into the wind by the waterfall.
Zhu Yan's throat worked. His fingers twitched, half-reaching for a spear that wasn't there.
Beside him, Murong Zi's eyes flew wide.
She wasn't pale like Zhu Yan—she was too lively for that—but the brightness in her gaze froze into something closer to disbelief.
"That guy…?" she mouthed.
Bai Jingyun stood on Murong Zi's other side, calmer on the surface, but her grip on her sword belt tightened until the leather creaked. In her mind, steel rang again in a mountain valley; a cheap bandit sword met her blade again and again, each "lazy" block so precise it had numbed her palm.
Viscera Training… she thought. The words still felt ridiculous.
The last time she'd fought him, he had looked like someone you could easily overlook—until you crossed weapons.
Now he stood in Seven Profound Martial House's main field as if he belonged there more than any of them.
Further back, another gaze locked on Ren—a heavier, colder one.
Ling Sen.
He didn't look frightened like Zhu Yan.
He looked… intent.
Ling Sen's eyes fastened onto Ren with the same focus he used before stepping into the Ashura battlefield in his own heart. In the Great Zhou Mountains, he had tasted humiliation—he had thrown his Ashura martial intent forward like a blade, only for Ren to answer with something sharper, something that had made Ling Sen's slaughter domain feel thin and incomplete.
Ling Sen had not forgotten.
Not for a day.
The field's uncertainty reached a boiling point.
"Who is he?"
"Why are the elders sitting like that?"
"Why is Senior Brother Zhu Yan—"
The last voice died when Zhu Yan turned his head slightly, eyes flashing with reflexive, almost habitual cruelty. No one else dared to voice his name.
"Human Hall, Earth Hall, Heavenly Abode disciples," Hong Xi's voice rolled across the field from the announcer's stand, supported by true essence sound transmission. "Today, by order of the Martial House, Guest Instructor Ren Ming will hold an open lecture on martial intent and the laws of heaven and earth."
Whispers exploded.
"Guest… Instructor?"
"At Pulse Condensation?"
"Are they joking…?"
Ren chuckled softly under his breath as the scattered voices reached him.
The noise died almost on its own.
"First," Ren said, "thanks for coming on such short notice."
His Sky Fortune accent was faint, his words crisp, like someone who had learned to speak clearly in many places and then settled on simple, clean diction. There was an ease to him that didn't match the blades of tension in the air.
"This Martial House's foundations are good," he went on, eyes lifting to glance lazily across the array pillars. "Your arrays run day and night to compress heaven and earth origin energy. Your manuals lay a solid path from Body Transformation to Houtian, even to early Xiantian for those with talent."
Some disciples straightened unconsciously at the praise.
"But," Ren continued mildly, "most of you are still blind."
A growl of protest rose from Earth Hall's side.
Ren smiled.
"Relax," he said. "That's not an insult. That's just… how cultivation usually is."
He lifted his hand.
"Right now, most of you see this much."
True essence rose from his dantian, flowing through meridians tempered by Chaotic Virtues Combat Meridians, guided by the inner governor of Modified Heretical God Force. It slid along familiar routes, harmonizing with heaven and earth fire qi until, above his fingertips, a neat flame appeared.
The disciples of Human Hall flinched at the sudden heat. Earth Hall's elites frowned, measuring. Heavenly Abode's top outer disciples looked unimpressed.
"It's just true essence fire," someone muttered. "Even we can do that."
Ren nodded.
"Exactly," he said. "This is what you all learn first. True essence fire. Useful, flexible… but shallow."
He let the flame dance harmlessly over his fingertips.
"Then, if your comprehension is decent and your manuals aren't trash, you begin to touch the concepts of Fire. Burning Heat, Annihilation, Creation… the specific names don't matter right now."
The flame shivered.
Its color deepened, its shape tightened. Heat radiated more intensely without the flame growing larger; the stone beneath his feet began to glow faintly red, a thin line of melted rock tracing a circle around him.
Now even Heavenly Abode's disciples leaned forward.
"This is where most geniuses think they've become amazing," Ren said, tone amused. "They can melt stone with a flick of their fingers, burn an enemy's weapon, shout about 'comprehending laws' in front of pretty girls."
A few of Murong Zi's juniors flushed and looked away.
"But," Ren went on, and his voice shifted—softening and sinking, like water pouring into a deep well. "Most of you… haven't actually touched Law yet."
The flame above his hand shrank.
It compressed, folding in on itself until it was the size of a grain of rice.
The temperature on the field dropped.
Not rose—dropped.
The disciples blinked, confused, but the elders on the platform stiffened. Hong Xi's fingers froze mid-motion; Sun Sifan's brows knit together, eyes suddenly razor sharp.
The world itself seemed to hold its breath.
Around that tiny grain of fire, space rippled faintly. Lines too fine for most eyes to track flashed in and out of existence—Dao lines, faint engravings of rule and structure. The flame was no longer merely hot. It was an answer to the question "what is fire?" written directly into reality.
Na Yi and Na Shui felt their hearts tighten.
They had seen this before, when Ren annihilated the Fire Worm Tribe. But seeing it here, under Sky Fortune's sky, with thousands watching…
It was different.
More real. More terrifying.
Sun Sifan's pupils contracted.
The oppressive pressure rolling out wasn't wide in scope. It didn't blanket the whole field like a Xiantian expert's aura. Instead, it felt… precise. Focused. Anyone whose senses brushed that flame instinctively understood:
If that falls on me, I die.
Even Ling Sen's breath stalled.
His Ashura martial intent had let him taste an inner battlefield of endless killing, a place where he died and revived to sharpen his will. But this flame… this was something that could burn the battlefield itself.
Ren closed his fingers.
The flame vanished.
The field fell utterly silent.
He let the silence stretch, letting the image sear itself into hearts and bones, then exhaled softly.
"That," he said, "is Law."
His gaze swept across Human Hall, Earth Hall, and finally lingered on Heavenly Abode.
"Realm is the size of your cup," he said calmly. "Law is the quality of the water you pour into it. Many of you chase bigger cups without fixing the cracks. Then when you finally pour something good in, it leaks away."
He flexed his hand once, feeling the fading tingle of Fire Law essence along his bones, then let even that echo disperse.
"I'm not here to mock you," he added, smile returning. "I'm here to show you the path exists. That you can walk it—even if your talent is only fourth grade. Even if your realm is 'too low'."
His gaze slid briefly to Murong Zi and Bai Jingyun, then further, to where Zhu Yan stood, still pale, eyes fixed on him.
"And to prove it," Ren said lightly, "I won't show off again myself."
He turned slightly, gesturing behind him.
"I'll let my disciples do it."
This time, the uproar was almost physical.
"Those two…?"
"Altering Muscles?"
"He's joking—Human Hall Altering Muscles dealing with Laws?!"
Na Shui's stomach fluttered.
Beside her, Na Yi's eyes sharpened, lips pressing together. She could feel countless gazes pressing down on them. Human Hall disciples looked curious, some envious. Earth Hall disciples were skeptical. Heavenly Abode elites outright sneered.
Ren tilted his head toward the girls, smile teasing at the corners.
"Na Shui," he said. Toward her, his tone gentled just a fraction. "You first."
Na Shui swallowed once.
Her hands were steady.
"…Yes," she replied.
She stepped forward, onto the front of the platform.
Altering Muscles realm aura slowly unfolded from her body—true essence flowing through meridians tempered by Modified Chaotic Virtues Combat Meridians, strengthened by the first layer of Modified Heretical God Force. It wasn't vast. It didn't shake the arrays. But it was… clean. Each breath drew in heaven and earth origin energy, refined it, and folded it back into her dantian in a smooth loop with almost no waste.
From Heavenly Abode's stands, derisive snorts rose.
"Altering Muscles."
"Human Hall candidate at best."
"This is his 'disciple'? Even as Guest Instructor, isn't he looking down on us too much?"
Ren's smile didn't change.
He turned, looking up toward Heavenly Abode's seating.
"Among Heavenly Abode's disciples," he asked, voice mild, "is there someone at early Bone Forging realm willing to step down?"
The field shifted.
Bone Forging.
The fourth stage of Body Transformation, the threshold most Earth Hall disciples dreamed of reaching, the minimum requirement for Heavenly Abode's elites. To casually call one out to fight an Altering Muscles junior…
"That's too much."
"He's treating realm like child's play—"
Sun Sifan raised a hand.
The murmurs died as if cut by a blade.
His gaze swept across Heavenly Abode's ranks.
"Who is willing to test Guest Instructor Ren's disciple?" he asked evenly.
For a heartbeat, no one moved.
Then, from the front row, a young man stepped out. He was tall and lean, eyes sharp, jaw set with the determination of someone who had never backed down in front of his peers.
"I, Liang Guangfeng, will fight," he said, cupping his fists toward the elders.
Ren's eyes flicked over him.
Solid early Bone Forging—bones tempered, meridians widened, blood vitality vigorous. His footing was steady; his true essence was well-rooted in the fire attribute. Sword calluses marked his hands, but his shoulders carried no hint of laziness.
Good.
Ren preferred demonstrations with honest material.
Liang Guangfeng leapt lightly from the stands, true essence wrapping his body as he landed on the platform opposite Na Shui. The difference in realm was obvious; his aura pressed outward unconsciously, making the air feel heavier around them.
Na Shui's heartbeat quickened.
She remembered the first time she'd seen a Bone Forging warrior in the Sorcerer Pagodas—how the way he had moved had seemed like a wall she could never climb.
Ren's voice brushed her back, quiet and steady.
"Relax," he said. "You already killed people far worse."
Na Shui's shoulders loosened.
Her gaze cooled.
She cupped her fists and bowed slightly. "Na Shui," she said, voice carrying clearly across the field. "Altering Muscles."
Liang Guangfeng's brow furrowed slightly.
"…Liang Guangfeng, early Bone Forging," he replied, face tightening. "Guest Instructor Ren, with this gap, if I injure your disciple—"
"If you can," Ren said pleasantly, "I'll apologize to her later."
Some Heavenly Abode disciples felt heat climb their necks at the implication.
Liang Guangfeng's expression grew solemn.
"…Then I will not hold back," he said.
He drew his sword.
True essence surged.
"Begin," Sun Sifan's voice cut through the air.
Liang Guangfeng moved instantly.
His foot stamped down; true essence poured from his dantian, flooding his meridians in a practiced rush. A sharp will rose with his strike—not yet a true martial intent, but a honed edge built on hundreds of battles. Flame burst along his blade, coiling into a sharp sheet of fire.
The sword came down in a clean, practiced line, fire-attribute true essence woven tightly into the edge. One of Heavenly Abode's core fire sword arts—meant to burn through an opponent's defense and carve apart their meridians.
The air shrieked as it split.
Na Shui exhaled.
Her own true essence stirred.
The first layer of Modified Heretical God Force opened like a gate—not a wild flood, but a controlled surge. Power spiraled through her channels in ordered currents. Strength, perception, and comprehension all rose together.
Deep in her dantian, the Azure True Dragon Infinity Seed pulsed, expanding her true essence pool even as it stabilized the flow. Her muscles and bones sang with the tempered memory of countless drills under Ren's guidance.
She raised her hand.
Behind her, something turned.
A red-gold wheel of runes, half-real and half-illusory, rotated slowly into existence at her back. Within its circumference, invisible lines of Dao spread like a net, touching every trace of flame in the vicinity—Liang Guangfeng's blade fire, the fire-aspect origin energy in the air, even the faint heat in blood and breath.
Fire Martial Intent. Small Success.
The temperature on the platform spiked.
"W-what—?"
Earth Hall disciples flinched. Heavenly Abode elders leaned forward.
Liang Guangfeng felt it most.
The fire along his blade… shifted.
Within Na Shui's Martial Intent domain, his true essence flame compressed, refined, forced into a higher-order state—and then, without his permission, the threads of control slipped from his grasp.
It was like wielding a sword and having the metal decide, mid-swing, that it would rather follow someone else's hand.
His strike faltered for a fraction of a breath.
Na Shui stepped in.
She didn't dodge.
She didn't retreat.
She thrust out an open palm.
"—Burn."
She didn't shout the word. She breathed it.
The rune-wheel behind her spun once.
All the flame her domain had seized—from Liang Guangfeng's blade, from the air, from the tiniest sparks of heat—converged. It roared into a single, condensed stream, bursting from her palm as a ribbon of red-gold fire. It wasn't wide, but it was dense to the point of distortion; the air around it warped like glass near a kiln.
Liang Guangfeng's pupils shrank.
Danger screamed through every instinct.
"—Thousand Layer Flame Slash!" he roared, forcing his true essence to the limit.
His sword art surged, conjuring layer upon layer of flame blades before him like overlapping petals, each one carrying compressed power. If Na Shui's palm strike was a river, his technique was a towering wall of burning sabers.
They collided.
The field went white-red.
Heat hit the spectators like a hammer; Human Hall disciples shielded themselves with thin true essence layers, Earth Hall disciples circulated their power defensively, Heavenly Abode experts narrowed their eyes, focusing.
For a heartbeat, it seemed as if Liang Guangfeng's higher realm would win. His true essence reserve was deeper; his technique had been polished in the Ten Thousand Killing Array's blood mist.
Then—
Cracks crawled across his flame blades.
Not from outside.
From within.
Under Na Shui's Fire Martial Intent, the structure of his flames had been forced closer to their true Burning Heat nature—particles vibrating faster, temperature spiking toward their limit. His sword art's framework hadn't been designed for flame this refined.
The internal balance shattered.
One after another, his flame layers collapsed inward, devoured by the tighter, more orderly fire threaded through Na Shui's strike.
The ribbon of fire tore through his technique like a spear through paper.
Liang Guangfeng's eyes widened.
He tried to dodge.
Too slow.
The red-gold stream brushed past his shoulder, shearing through the protective true essence armor around his body. It did not scorch flesh—the edge of the attack was too precise—but the force behind it slammed into his meridians, cutting across his true essence circuits like a heavy blade.
His aura stuttered.
He was flung backward, sword spinning from numb fingers. His boots skidded across the platform, stone scraping harshly until he dug in at the very edge, barely keeping himself from falling.
Na Shui lowered her hand.
The rune-wheel behind her slowed and faded.
Silence.
A slow, disbelieving silence.
"…Altering Muscles…" someone whispered.
"She… she crushed early Bone Forging…"
"With one move…"
Strictly speaking, it hadn't been a single move. Liang Guangfeng had attacked first; Na Shui had responded. But in terms of decisive exchanges, everyone understood: only one had mattered.
Na Shui's chest rose and fell once.
She bowed toward Liang Guangfeng.
"You… let me win," she said, voice a little tight, earnest.
Liang Guangfeng's face flushed crimson.
He opened his mouth.
Closed it.
He looked down at his still-trembling hands, at the faint scorch marks along his sword where Na Shui's domain had twisted his own fire against him, then back up at the girl standing calmly in the center of the platform.
His throat bobbed.
"I… lost," he said hoarsely, cupping his fists deeply. "Your Fire… is on a different level. Thank you for the guidance."
The words were sincere.
He stumbled off the platform, supported by a fellow Heavenly Abode disciple, still replaying that moment when the fire he'd trusted had turned against him.
Zhu Yan's fingers tightened on his sword hilt until his knuckles whitened.
Murong Zi and Bai Jingyun felt a chill crawl down their spines.
They had sensed Na Shui's realm. Altering Muscles. A step they had long since passed. And yet—
That single palm had contained more weight than many Heavenly Abode elites could muster with full force.
If such a person appeared in the Ranking War, what place would be safe?
On the elders' platform, Sun Sifan exhaled slowly, gaze sinking.
He had already seen with his own eyes that Ren Ming possessed Fire Law essence beyond anything the Martial House currently had. But seeing that essence reflected in a disciple at Altering Muscles realm…
Dangerous.
In a very particular, very tempting way.
Ren lifted his head and met Sun Sifan's eyes.
His smile did not sharpen.
It didn't need to.
In that moment, every elder present understood a simple, unsettling truth:
If this man was allowed to teach freely, Seven Profound Martial House would change.