"Power invites fear. And fear breeds judgment."
The clan tribunal was held on Spirit Judgment Platform, an ancient stone arena used only for matters of grave importance. It had not been used in nearly thirty years.
Today, it stood ready—its gray tiles humming faintly beneath the morning sun.
Clan elders gathered on elevated seats shaped like crescent moons. Outer disciples stood along the perimeter, whispering.
At the center stood Li Fan, dressed in plain robes, arms folded behind his back, his expression calm.
His body was lean and scarred. His eyes, however, held a weight no one could place—a stillness carved from flame and pain.
Across from him, Elder Li Zhen stood with a face like polished ice.
> "Li Fan," he intoned, his voice loud and sharp, "you stand accused of cultivating a forbidden method that disregards the Dao of Qi. What say you?"
Li Fan tilted his head.
> "I cultivate my body. Is strength itself forbidden now?"
Gasps rippled through the disciples.
"Don't be clever," Li Zhen snapped. "We've seen the signs. Your bloodline has no spiritual root. And yet you return from cursed places stronger each time. This is not natural—it reeks of demonic influence."
The Patriarch, an old man with cloudy eyes, raised a hand.
> "We have heard the accusation. Let the accused speak. You have one chance, Li Fan."
Li Fan stepped forward.
> "I was cast aside. Mocked. Called trash. I found a path where none existed. The Earth refined my bones. Fire cleansed my blood. Water rebuilt my flesh. I stand now not as a threat to the clan—but as proof that fate can be defied."
The platform trembled faintly.
A few elders shifted in their seats. Some looked curious. A few looked afraid.
Suddenly, a calm voice interrupted.
> "If what he says is true... he should be tested."
All eyes turned.
Elder Mu Qiu, the eccentric alchemist, walked into the arena while sipping a gourd of wine. He looked at Li Fan and smiled.
> "Strike that stone pillar. Let's see what kind of 'demonic influence' you carry."
The Patriarch nodded.
Li Fan approached the spiritual resonance pillar—a tool used to measure raw physical strength. Qi cultivators often required years to barely move it.
Li Fan took a breath.
He exhaled.
Boom!
His palm struck the stone.
A deafening crack echoed.
The pillar split down the center.
Silence fell.
Even Li Zhen said nothing.
Mu Qiu chuckled and took another sip. "Well, that's one way to shut up old ghosts."
The Patriarch rubbed his temples and sighed. "Li Fan… your path is not one we understand. But today, you are innocent. You are free to continue."
Li Zhen clenched his fists.
But before anyone could respond—a distant thunderclap echoed from the clear sky.
The platform trembled again. This time… not from Li Fan.
Everyone looked up.
Dark clouds had begun to swirl over the clan grounds.
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