The Sovereign's first strike
Han Feng stepped onto the stone stage, the rough granite scraping against the thin soles of his worn cloth shoes. To the hundreds of disciples watching, he was a ghost—a boy who had spent three years in the clan without making a single wave, a ""trash"" existence meant to be stepped upon. But as he stood there, the air around him didn't just feel cold; it felt hollow.
He closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, tuning out the jeers of the crowd. Internally, he was screaming. His soul, a vast ocean of Sovereign-level intent, was being forced into a container made of cracked glass. His current meridians were narrow, clogged with the impurities of a poor diet and lack of resources. It was like trying to pour a galaxy into a thimble.
[System Alert: Physical Vessel at 98% Stress Capacity]
[Warning: Attempting to exert Sovereign Intent will result in Total Body Collapse.]
I know, Han Feng thought, his mental voice cold and sharp. I don't need the power of a god to kill a dog. I only need the knowledge of where the dog is soft.
He opened his eyes. Standing ten paces away was Han Ming. The boy was preening, flexing his muscles under his silk-trimmed robes. Han Ming was seventeen, a year older than Han Feng, and had already reached the Third Stage of Body Refining. In this small, backwater corner of the world, he was considered a ""genius."" To the Han Feng of an hour ago, he was an invincible mountain. To the Han Feng of now, he was a blueprint of biological failures.
[The Eternal Void Archive: Analysis Complete]
[Target: Han Ming]
[Conditioning: Over-reliant on 'Iron Fist' External Strength. Internal Qi flow is stagnant at the 'Hidden Gate' acupoint.]
[Outcome Prediction: 100% Victory if strike is landed during the 3rd breath cycle.]
""Are you done daydreaming, trash?"" Han Ming's voice boomed, drawing a ripple of laughter from the spectators. ""If you kneel now and crawl through my legs, I might ask my father to let you stay in the clan as a stable boy. It's better than being kicked out into the wilderness to be eaten by spirit wolves.
" Han Feng didn't answer. He didn't even look at Han Ming's face. He was looking at the way Han Ming's weight shifted onto his right heel, the way his breathing was slightly shallow because of the 'Low-Grade Spirit Pill' he had swallowed an hour ago to cheat during the exam. The pill was still dissolving, creating a ""hot spot"" of unrefined energy in his stomach.
""The Elder said 'Begin,'"" Han Feng said softly.
Han Ming's face contorted in rage. The ""trash"" wasn't shaking. The ""trash"" wasn't begging. In fact, looking into Han Feng's eyes felt like looking into a deep, dark well with no bottom. It was an insult to his pride.
""Die!"" Han Ming roared. He lunged forward, his fist glowing with a faint brown light—the sign of the 'Iron Fist' technique. It was a brutal, straightforward move designed to break bones. To the disciples below, it was a blur of power
Han Feng didn't retreat. To the horror of the crowd, he stepped forward.
It was a movement so minute, so precise, that it looked like Han Ming had simply missed. The glowing fist whistled past Han Feng's ear, the wind from the strike ruffling his hair. At that exact micro-second, Han Feng's hand moved.
He didn't clench a fist. He extended two fingers, stiff as steel, and tapped the underside of Han Ming's extended arm—exactly where the 'Hidden Gate' acupoint was struggling to process the stolen energy of the spirit pill.
Pop.
The sound wasn't loud, but to Han Ming, it sounded like a thunderclap inside his own body. The unrefined Qi from the pill, suddenly blocked by Han Feng's touch, reversed its flow. It was like a dam breaking in the wrong direction.
Han Ming's eyes bulged. His ""Iron"" arm went limp instantly. But Han Feng wasn't finished. This boy had spent years tormenting Han Feng's younger sister in the previous life. He had been the one to sell her into slavery to pay off a gambling debt.
Han Feng leaned in close, his lips near Han Ming's ear as the bully stumbled past him. ""This is for the debt you haven't even collected yet,"" Han Feng whispered.
He pivoted on his heel and delivered a palm strike to Han Ming's back. It wasn't a strike of strength, but of vibration. He sent a sliver of the ""Void"" energy—just a tiny, microscopic thread—into Han Ming's dantian.
Han Ming didn't just fall. He flew off the stage, his body skidding across the dirt of the courtyard like a skipped stone before crashing into the willow tree where Lin Yue stood.
Silence descended on the Han Clan. It wasn't the silence of respect; it was the silence of confusion. No one understood what had happened. There was no explosion of light, no high-level technique. The trash had simply touched the genius, and the genius had collapsed.
Han Feng stood at the edge of the stage, his chest heaving. His body was screaming in pain, his veins feeling like they were filled with broken glass. But he ignored it. He looked down at his hands, then out into the crowd.
His eyes found Lin Yue. She was staring at him, her small hands pressed against her mouth, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and something else—something that looked like recognition.
[System Alert: The Butterfly Effect has reached 5% Divergence]
[historical Record Changed: Han Ming's Dantian has been 'Devoured.' He will never cultivate again.]
[Archive Note: You have officially drawn the attention of the Clan Elders. Prepare for high-intensity conflict.]
Han Feng wiped a trickle of blood from his nose. He didn't care about the Elders. He didn't care about the Clan. He looked at the sky, seeing through the blue atmosphere to the invisible golden threads of the Parasite Heavens that hovered above the world. One down, he thought. Only a few million more to go."
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Hello dear readers, do you enjoy this if so kindly move on to chapter 3, she is waiting for you , and dont forget to add to library and give her those powerstones thank you