Ouyang Dihua felt that smile in his bones.
A moment ago, Ren's expression had been lazy, almost amused—like someone watching an unexpectedly good play from the shade.
Now the curve of his lips barely changed.
But something behind it did.
The air thinned.
The Acacia Envoy's heart, tempered by Divine Acacia Power's charm and cruelty, skipped a beat. For a man who had toyed with countless lives and Dao Hearts, this sudden, primal sense of danger was unfamiliar—like walking into a courtyard he thought he owned, only to realize the "decorations" were all predators quietly staring back.
"…This Envoy has been… enlightened today," he finished, forcing the words through a throat that felt strangely dry.
Ren looked at him.
The smile stayed.
The warmth drained away.
"Enlightened?" Ren repeated mildly. "Mm. If being beaten to your knees by my Altering Muscle disciple counts as enlightenment, then I suppose today was a great harvest for you."
Ripples ran through the arena like a stone dropped into deep water.
Several disciples choked.
Even Qin Ziya's eyelids twitched.
On the stage, Ouyang Dihua's fingers tightened on his sleeve beneath his robe. His chest ached where Qin Xingxuan's spear had torn through flesh earlier. The Divine Acacia Power in his meridians surged instinctively, trying to smooth over that wound, to wrap his heart in a familiar veneer of charm and control.
It didn't work.
Under that calm gaze, his cultivation felt… cheap.
The Divine Acacia Power that had once given him unshakable confidence now felt like a layer of perfume over rot.
Ren's eyes slid past him.
They fell, quietly, on Bai Jingyun.
She stood at the edge of the platform, posture straight, hands clenched around her sword hilt. Her face was still slightly pale from the pressures that had just swept the arena, but her gaze was clear.
Over her, in a place no one could see, hung a thin, invisible chain—one forged by family contracts, sect decrees, and Ouyang Dihua's so-called "guidance". It had followed her like a shadow for years, shaping every step she took.
Ren's smile cooled further.
"Since you're enlightened," he said lightly, "let's tidy up one more thing."
His tone was casual, as if he were discussing tonight's dishes, not the future of a great family's daughter.
He turned his head back to Ouyang.
"In front of all these witnesses," Ren continued, voice smooth, "you'll rescind your marriage contract with Bai Jingyun."
For a heartbeat, the entire Martial House forgot to breathe.
Then sound exploded.
"What did he say—"
"Marriage contract—"
"Bai Jingyun… with Ouyang Envoy…?"
Even among the elders who already knew, the impact hit like thunder. Rumors were one thing; having the matter peeled open and thrown into the sunlight, in front of every elder and disciple, was something else entirely.
On the high platform, several Seven Profound Valley representatives stiffened almost at the same time. Among the Martial House elders, faces paled. That engagement between Bai Jingyun and the Acacia Faction's Envoy was not some trivial private promise—it touched on the relationship between the Bai Family, Sky Fortune Kingdom's royal court, and the Seven Profound Valleys that ruled above them.
This backwater Martial House existed because the Seven Profound Valleys allowed it.
To tear at that web so openly…
Bai Jingyun's heart lurched violently.
Her fingers dug into her sword hilt until her knuckles turned white.
Her mind flashed back to lantern light in a quiet courtyard. Ren's calm gaze as he'd said, "If someone tries to use status to cage you… try leaning on me once."
At the time, it had sounded like distant words, meant to comfort.
Now, in front of the entire Martial House, he had simply reached out and seized that cage with his bare hands.
"…Ren…" she whispered under her breath. The sound barely left her lips.
Ouyang Dihua's smile froze.
He had expected hostility.
He had expected cold words and veiled barbs.
He had not expected the other party to tear directly at the engagement contract in front of everyone.
"Guest Instructor Ren," he said slowly, keeping the gentle tone that had seduced so many naïve girls, "this matter involves agreements between the Bai Family and the Seven Profound Valleys. It is not something a… guest instructor of unknown origin can casually interfere in."
His eyes narrowed slightly, a trace of coldness flashing between his lashes.
"Moreover," he added softly, "this contract carries the approval of my uncle—the Acacia Faction's Third Elder—as well as the endorsement of the Acacia Sovereign himself. To question it… is to question the face of the Seven Profound Valleys as a whole."
He let those words hang.
Seven Profound Valleys.
Third Elder.
Acacia Sovereign.
Each title was a mountain in this tiny Sky Fortune Kingdom. Behind them stood a great sect that ruled thirty-six countries and sixteen great clans from the Profound Sky Mountain Range. Xiantian elders sat above the clouds; Sovereigns shook entire territories with a single decision.
On the Martial House's side, several elders' expressions changed drastically. Cold sweat seeped down their backs. Even Qin Ziya's face turned ashen.
This was no longer just a matter between one Envoy and a guest instructor.
This reached up toward the heavens of this region.
Ouyang Dihua's hand lifted slightly.
A faint, unremarkable-looking jade charm slipped out from his sleeve, hidden between his fingers.
From the stands, no one could see it clearly.
But the moment it touched his palm, a thin, invisible ripple spread out—an aura that did not belong to the Houtian world.
Xiantian.
Several elders' hearts clenched.
A Xiantian elder's life-saving talisman—condensed from a strike of true essence, imbued with will. Once activated, it could crush a peak Houtian expert like an ant. Even a half-step Xiantian master would hesitate to meet it head-on.
The atmosphere shifted.
Those who knew what that meant glanced at Ren with alarm.
Ouyang Dihua's smile deepened again, a thin veneer of elegance stretched tight over simmering rage.
"Guest Instructor Ren," he said softly, "this Envoy does not wish to make things… unpleasant. It would be better to give each other some face."
He pressed his fingers together slightly.
The jade charm pulsed faintly, as if a distant sun were breathing.
Ren watched him.
Then he laughed.
It wasn't loud.
It wasn't wild.
It was just a short, low exhale of amusement—like someone who had just watched a child draw a crooked sword and declare himself a war general.
"Face?" Ren repeated. "You want to talk to me about face?"
He finally let the sneer show.
"This is what the Acacia Faction amounts to?" he asked, tone still lazy. "Losing to juniors in front of an entire Martial House, clutching a life-saving trinket from your elder like a child holding his father's sleeve, and you dare bring up face?"
The word "trinket" landed like a slap.
Ouyang Dihua's expression cracked for the first time.
The surrounding disciples stared, jaws slack.
Ren tilted his head slightly, gaze dropping to that concealed hand.
"If you're counting on that thing," he said lazily, "I'd put it away before you embarrass your uncle."
Ouyang Dihua's heart lurched.
His fingers tightened reflexively around the talisman.
"You—"
He didn't finish.
Ren moved.
It wasn't a grand gesture.
Just a step forward.
But the world shifted.
Earlier, when he had allowed a sliver of his aura to leak, it had been like the shadow of a mountain passing over the land—oppressive, but still distant.
Now, he allowed a little more.
Not much.
Just enough.
Fire Laws stirred.
The red-gold Fire Martial Intent that burned in Murong Zi, Qin Xingxuan, Bai Jingyun, Na Yi, and Na Shui shivered in response, like small lanterns feeling a blazing sun rise overhead. Deep within their meridians, every flame-attribute true essence, every trace of blood vitality heat, every ember of fighting spirit was drawn toward a single center.
Behind Ren's back, a red-gold rune-wheel flickered into view—not fully formed, more suggestion than manifestation, but every spoke was etched with unfathomable Dao lines. Within that wheel's faint field, even the heat of breathing seemed to be compressed, refined, forced to burn at a higher order.
The air went dry in an instant.
Heat pressed down—not the crude, boiling heat of uncontrolled flame, but a dense, heavy warmth that made even Houtian true essence feel sluggish, as if it had been thrown into honey.
The arena's protective array trembled violently. Formation lines hidden in the stone flared in sequence, desperately dispersing pressure. The smooth floor under Ren's feet cracked in thin web-like lines.
To the disciples, it felt as if the heavens themselves had lowered by several feet.
Their true essence stumbled.
Circulation faltered.
Many Altering Muscle and Bone Forging cultivators nearly dropped to their knees on reflex.
Qin Ziya, at peak Houtian, sucked in a sharp breath. His own true essence, stable for decades, shuddered inside his meridians like a startled beast that had suddenly realized it was not at the top of the food chain.
"This… this isn't just Xiantian…" he thought wildly, scalp numb. "This pressure… it's as if the realm above Xiantian has descended…"
Among the Seven Profound envoys, even the Pulse Condensation elder who had been lazily observing earlier felt his core twist. The vortex of true essence in his dantian jolted, edges fraying for a terrifying instant, as if a giant invisible hand had pinched it.
Ouyang Dihua bore the brunt.
The weight of Ren's aura locked onto him like a clamp.
His Pulse Condensation vortex—carefully cultivated, refined by Divine Acacia Power's seductive, insidious patterns—froze solid.
For a moment, his meridians felt like ants crawling on molten metal.
"—Kuh!"
His knees hit the stone.
Not from choice.
From pure, absolute suppression.
The jade charm in his hand flared desperately.
A shadow loomed behind him—faint, but unmistakable. An illusory figure, robed, dignified, true essence like a rising sun—Acacia Faction's Third Elder, Ouyang Boyan, or at least a fragment of his will. Xiantian aura crashed down, wild and majestic, ready to shatter the arena to dust.
Everyone who could sense it went white.
Xiantian.
Early-stage at least—but towering like a mountain to those still trapped in the Houtian world.
If that talisman fully erupted, not just Ren—even the Martial House Master and his deputies might be sucked into the storm and ground to dust as collateral.
Ren lifted his hand.
Two fingers extended.
He caught the invisible wave as if plucking a stray thread off a robe.
The Xiantian aura roared.
Fire Laws responded.
The red-gold rune-wheel behind Ren spun once.
Just once.
Within that single revolution, the Xiantian true essence that had just begun to awaken was dragged, compressed, and forced to burn inside Ren's palm. It struggled, flared, tried to expand—
—and was crushed.
The illusory elder's shadow flickered.
For an instant, across countless miles and thousands of li of mountains, a distant, furious will seemed to look through the talisman, probing this small Martial House.
It saw nothing but a hand closing.
The jade charm in Ouyang Dihua's grasp shattered with a crisp, crystalline sound.
Fragments turned to ash before they hit the ground.
Silence.
Utter, absolute silence.
A Xiantian elder's life-saving talisman…
Destroyed.
Not blocked.
Not offset by another treasure.
Destroyed—squeezed to dust like cheap clay in Ren's fingers.
Every elder who understood what had just happened felt their throats go dry.
Na Yi's pupils contracted sharply, dark eyes reflecting the red-gold gleam behind Ren. Na Shui's mouth fell open, her usual bright chatter stripped completely away. Murong Zi, who had just shattered a Bone Forging genius like rotten wood, stared as if her mind had blanked. Qin Xingxuan's breath caught; her Fire Martial Intent trembled within her, feeling for a heartbeat like a single candle under a sun.
Bai Jingyun's vision swayed.
She had known he was strong.
She had watched him rearrange cultivation methods like moving chess pieces, refine their Dao Hearts, walk through a demonic altar as if strolling through a garden.
But to see a Xiantian power—that lofty realm she had only heard about in respectful whispers—crushed in his hand like a minor inconvenience…
Her worldview tilted.
Ren closed his fingers.
The last trace of Xiantian true essence vanished, devoured by his Dao and turned into nothing more than an insignificant memory.
He looked down at Ouyang Dihua, who was still pinned to the ground by the weight of his aura, cold sweat dripping from his chin onto the cracked stone.
"So," Ren said softly. "Third Elder. Sovereigns. Life-saving charms."
His smile reappeared.
It did not reach his eyes.
"What exactly do you think they can do for you right now?"
Ouyang Dihua's heart hammered.
For the first time in many years, he felt it clearly:
If this man decided to kill him here—
No Seven Profound decree, no Acacia elder, no Xiantian Sovereign would arrive in time.
He would die like Zhang Guanyu had fallen—only worse. No dramatic battle. No honorable last stand.
Just… erased.
Ren tilted his head slightly, as if pondering a weed growing between tiles.
"I'll say it once more," he said, voice as gentle as flowing water. "Rescind your marriage contract with Bai Jingyun."
His foot pressed down lightly on the air.
The pressure around Ouyang Dihua's chest spiked.
Bones creaked.
His Pulse Condensation vortex shrank, compressed to a trembling point. The Divine Acacia Power he'd always been so proud of, that he had used to ensnare countless women, felt suddenly filthy, flimsy, disgusting under that Fire Dao.
"In front of the Martial House," Ren went on. "In front of the Seven Profound envoys. Make it clean. From now on, you and her—no ties."
Bai Jingyun's breath stopped.
The invisible chain above her heart trembled violently, as if one more word would shatter it.
Ouyang Dihua's lips trembled.
"Y-you…" he rasped. Rage and humiliation twisted his face. "You dare… force this Envoy—"
Ren's gaze cooled further.
A thin line of Fire Intent pressed directly onto Ouyang's heart.
For a man who had often used "guidance" as an excuse to destroy women's futures, the sensation of that same threat hanging over his own core was like a blade resting against his throat.
"Dare?" Ren repeated softly. "You tried to touch my disciple's Dao Heart. You tried to cage her life with your status. You brought your filth onto my stage. And you're asking if I dare?"
His voice didn't rise.
It didn't need to.
"To me," he said casually, "you're just another weed someone forgot to pull."
He let that sink in.
Around them, no one spoke.
Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
On the high platform, an older Bai Family elder's lips moved soundlessly. He wanted to shout, to demand that Bai Jingyun obey her previous agreement, to talk about "benefits" and "paths opened" by the Acacia Faction—but his knees were shaking too much to stand.
Several court officials in royal robes opened their mouths, then closed them, looking instinctively toward Qin Ziya, then toward the Seven Profound envoys, searching for someone who could shoulder this heaven-shaking situation.
No one spoke.
Ouyang Dihua's eyes shook.
For a heartbeat, murderous hatred burned so hot in his chest that he almost didn't care about life or death. He pictured Ren's body broken, his women screaming, the Martial House burned to the ground under Xiantian thunder.
Then the memory of that crushed talisman flashed before his eyes.
He saw his uncle's shadow—invincible in his mind for so long—squeezed out of existence inside another man's palm. He remembered the instant his meridians had frozen, the way his body had been forced to kneel like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
Cold flooded out the rage.
Survival swallowed pride.
His teeth ground together so hard his jaw creaked.
"…Fine," he hissed, voice low and hoarse. "Fine."
He swallowed blood.
Lifted his head.
And, in a voice loud enough for every elder, every envoy, every disciple to hear, he spoke words that would be impossible to take back.
"I, Ouyang Dihua," he said, each syllable like scraping bone, "hereby rescind my engagement to Bai Jingyun. From this moment on, there is no marriage contract between us. No betrothal. No tie."
His voice cracked halfway through.
The words fell into the arena like hammer blows.
Several Bai Family-affiliated elders went white. One of them half-rose to protest before another elder grabbed his sleeve and shook his head violently. A few court officials on the royal side looked as if they'd bitten through their tongues, faces stiff as they wrestled between fear of the Seven Profound Valleys and fear of the man standing on the stage with a red-gold rune-wheel flickering behind his back.
Qin Ziya stood frozen, torn between terror at what this meant politically… and a wild, shameful sense of relief at the blade that had been pulled away from one of his most outstanding disciples.
On the stage edge, Bai Jingyun swayed.
For years, that contract had hung over her like a decree from heaven.
Every cultivation choice.
Every step she took.
She had lived under the silent understanding that no matter how far she climbed, no matter what realm she reached, her future path would eventually bend toward the Acacia Faction's will.
Now—
Snap.
Something broke inside her.
The invisible chain shattered.
Air rushed into her lungs like she'd been drowning without knowing it.
Her vision blurred.
Heat pricked at her eyes.
She pressed a hand against her chest, fingers trembling, as if afraid her heart would fall out.
Beside her, Murong Zi's hand closed around her elbow, steadying her.
The fiery girl grinned, eyes shining suspiciously red.
"Hey," Murong muttered under her breath. "Don't cry now. Makes me want to hit someone again."
Her voice was rough, but the grip on Bai Jingyun's arm was steady and warm.
Qin Xingxuan's gaze was soft, steady. The cold, precise spear genius who had just crushed a middle Pulse Condensation envoy in two moves now looked at her fellow disciple with quiet pride.
Na Shui actually bounced once in place, unable to fully restrain herself, then remembered where they were and bit her lip, forcing herself to stand still. Her eyes, however, were bright as twin stars.
Na Yi's eyes were calm, but the cold light in them when she looked at Ouyang Dihua could have frozen a lava lake.
Ren watched Bai Jingyun for a breath.
His smile gentled, becoming something without mockery or edge.
Then he looked back down at the kneeling Envoy.
"Good," he said simply. "Now that that's settled…"
He flicked his fingers.
The pressure pinning Ouyang Dihua vanished.
The Acacia Envoy collapsed forward, catching himself with his good arm. His right shoulder still screamed from Qin Xingxuan's earlier strike; his chest burned where her spear's Fire Intent had seared along his channels. He staggered to his feet, face ashen, hair disheveled, dignity in tatters.
Ren straightened.
His gaze swept over Ouyang, over Zhang Guanyu's pale, twisted face, over the cluster of Acacia faction lackeys gathered behind them, like he was looking at dirty water that had splashed on his shoes.
"You can scram now," he said. "Tell your Third Elder. Tell your Acacia Sovereign. Bring them, bring whoever you like."
His smile returned—light, almost lazy, as if he were talking about guests for a banquet.
"If they want to talk," he went on, "they know where to find me. I'll be here."
The words were simple.
The madness behind them was not.
An unknown guest instructor in a backwater Martial House…
Openly declaring that he didn't care if Xiantian elders or even a Sovereign came knocking.
Even in the Seven Profound Valleys' main mountain, no one spoke about the Sovereigns like that.
The arena was deathly quiet.
No elder dared to rebuke him.
No envoy stepped forward.
Ouyang Dihua's fingers shook.
He wanted to scream.
He wanted to spit back threats, to carve this shame into Ren's bones and repay it a hundredfold. In his mind, he saw himself kneeling in front of his uncle, begging for aid; he saw Acacia Faction experts descending on this little Martial House in waves.
Instead, he swallowed blood.
"This Envoy…" he forced out, voice tight, "will withdraw for now."
He turned sharply.
"Let's go," he snapped at his followers.
Zhang Guanyu tried to straighten his back.
His chest flared with pain; broken bones ground together. He coughed blood, vision blurring, hatred so deep it felt like poison in his veins.
He looked at Murong Zi.
At Qin Xingxuan.
At Bai Jingyun, who now stood just half a step closer to Ren than before, her eyes still slightly reddened but her posture lighter, freer.
Then he looked at Ren himself.
"Ren Ming…" he rasped silently in his heart, teeth grinding. The name cut through his mind like a blade.
The Acacia faction group retreated, faces stiff, robes disordered. No matter how they tried to hold their backs straight, to the eyes watching them, all that could be seen was one thing—
Defeat.
And not just defeat in a contest of strength.
Defeat in status, in schemes, in face.
...
For a long breath after their departure, no one moved.
The arena was filled with the sound of hundreds of hearts pounding and harsh, uneven breathing.
The sky over Sky Fortune Kingdom felt strangely low. Even the clouds seemed to hang, waiting for some verdict.
Then, slowly, Ren clapped his hands once.
The sharp sound cracked the tension like breaking ice.
"Well," he said lightly. "That got louder than I planned."
Several disciples almost choked.
Somewhere in the stands, a nervous laugh escaped and was quickly smothered.
Ren looked around, expression easy again, as if the last few minutes were no more than a minor detour on his way home.
"Since everyone's already gathered," he went on, "I might as well say this now."
He spread his hands, palms open.
"In a few days, I'll open a proper lecture on Fire Laws," he said. "Not just empty theory. We'll talk about how to shape Fire true essence cleanly, how to use it to support body tempering and killing moves, how to avoid frying your own meridians while you're at it."
His gaze swept across Murong Zi, Qin Xingxuan, Bai Jingyun, Na Yi, Na Shui, then continued outward to the mass of disciples.
"Those who have affinity with Fire, or whose cultivation paths lean toward heat and blood vitality—come," Ren continued. "Those who don't, but think they might learn something anyway—come. If you lack talent, bring a good quill and a stubborn head. I don't mind."
Whispers erupted instantly.
"Fire Laws…"
"Did you see Murong Zi just now? She crushed Zhang Guanyu like nothing…"
"And Qin Xingxuan… she suppressed a middle Pulse Condensation envoy in two moves…"
"Bai Jingyun too—their Fire auras… did you feel it? It was the same flavor as Guest Instructor Ren's…"
"To stand under that kind of teaching…"
Eyes that had been clouded with fear and awe a moment ago now blazed with naked desire.
Na Yi and Na Shui's earlier display of Fire Laws had already shocked everyone, but they were unfamiliar figures—Southern Wilderness cultivators whose origins were a mystery. Murong Zi and Qin Xingxuan, however, were local prodigies everyone knew. They had restarted their cultivation, thrown away their previous foundations, and in mere weeks had risen to a level that crushed former "geniuses" like insects.
To martial artists, true inheritance was more tempting than gold.
On the elders' platform, faces were much less relaxed.
"Fire Laws… at that level…" Sun Sifan muttered, throat dry. "If he raises too many… if the Valleys take offense…"
Qin Ziya pressed a hand to his chest, steadying his breath.
The waves Ren was stirring were already beyond what a simple Martial House Master could easily calm. A part of him screamed that this was inviting disaster; another part, the part that had watched countless talented youths be swallowed by the wider world, whispered that missing this opportunity would be the true sin.
"Seven Profound Valleys…" he thought quietly. "Even if they are displeased… so what? If we remain like this, a branch house that can only offer our best to them like tribute… then what is the point of this Martial House's existence?"
His gaze moved from Ren, standing relaxed on the stage, to Murong Zi, Qin Xingxuan, Bai Jingyun, and the others clustered behind him. A trace of resolve flashed in his heart.
Ren ignored their turmoil.
He turned, his aura already withdrawn, his presence once more that of a relaxed young man who'd just watched an interesting street play.
He smiled toward his girls.
"Let's go," he said. "If we stay here any longer, they'll start thinking I'm about to announce another duel."
Na Shui snorted, some of her usual mischief returning as the suffocating pressure in the arena finally eased.
"You say that like you didn't just treat them to an entire show," she muttered.
Murong Zi slung her spear over her shoulder, grin sharp and bright.
"We can always give them a second act," she said cheerfully. "Next time we'll take turns."
Qin Xingxuan's lips curved in a small, quiet smile, eyes calm, the tip of her spear still faintly warm.
Bai Jingyun's gaze met Ren's for a fraction of a breath; gratitude and something deeper flickered there before she looked away, cheeks faintly flushed. Without realizing it, she took half a step closer to his side.
Na Yi's eyes were clear, steady, that calm Southern Wilderness girl already thinking about how to adjust her Fire Martial Intent after feeling Ren's pressure again. For her, each clash of aura was another stone added to the road she was building.
They fell in behind him naturally, like they'd walked this path together a thousand times.
As they left the arena floor, the disciples parted on both sides as if the sea were being split.
Some bowed deeply.
Some stared with fanatical eyes.
Some clenched their fists, already making silent vows to crawl into that Fire Law lecture even if the Seven Profound Valleys sent down lightning from the sky.