Han Cui rubbed his temples hard, his face pale with exhaustion.
The main hall of the Han Family was filled with murmurs and tension so thick it could choke a man.
Every elder, servant, and disciple who dared to meet his eyes could see the shadow of worry deep within them.
He never expected the day would come when the Han Family, once a respected but quiet clan in the mortal realm, would be shaken by one man — Han Ji.
That useless, woman-chasing, drunk son who was once laughed at by every branch member of the family.
Now, that same man had killed a cultivator. Not an ordinary one, but a Qi Condensation expert.
Han Cui could still remember the moment clearly when the report came — Han Ji stood calmly, his robe still fluttering from the shockwave, as the corpse of the Red Sand Sect's demonic elder turned into ashes before the family's eyes.
It was done so easily that for a second, everyone doubted what they saw.
At first, they tried to reason it out.
"It must be luck," one elder muttered.
"The demon must've been wounded," another said. "Maybe it wasn't at full strength."
Han Cui's second son, Han Zukong, was the loudest of all. His voice was filled with disbelief and hidden rage. "Don't be fooled! The demon's vessel was damaged. Han Ji only took advantage of it. Anyone could've done it!"
But his words didn't match the flicker of fear in his eyes.
Because everyone knew — even an injured Qi Condensation cultivator could crush mortals like ants. And yet Han Ji didn't just survive. He killed.
The room fell silent again, but their gazes changed. Han Ji was no longer just the useless eldest son.
Han Zukong clenched his fists under his sleeve. His knuckles turned white.
He could still remember the day he lost to the youngest — Han Zhanjian, the mute. That memory burned in him like acid.
He had trained for years, pouring blood and sweat into his cultivation. Waking before dawn, meditating until his meridians screamed in pain, breaking bones and forcing them to heal stronger. He ate herbs that burned his throat and drank elixirs so bitter he vomited blood.
All for strength.
All to surpass his brothers.
And yet, that day in the family courtyard, when he tried to "teach" Han Zhanjian a lesson, the mute boy had caught his punch with one hand. Just one.
Then came the blow that shattered his pride — a single kick to the stomach that sent him flying across the yard. He had spat blood and crashed into a wall, his ribs broken, his vision spinning.
That quiet, emotionless face of Han Zhanjian haunted him every night since then.
And now, the eldest — the fool, the drunkard — turned out to be the most terrifying of all.
Han Zukong gritted his teeth so hard it hurt. How? How are they both stronger than me?
The air in the room suddenly shifted.
A terrifying pressure descended upon the entire hall like a tidal wave crashing from the heavens. The marble floor cracked, pillars trembled, and several younger members dropped to their knees, gasping for air.
The servants screamed and clutched their chests. The elders' faces twisted with fear. Spiritual pressure — sharp, heavy, overwhelming.
Han Cui stood up immediately, his face paling even more. Not again.
His heart pounded as he turned toward the entrance. From outside the grand doors, an overwhelming light poured in — white and crackling like lightning. The sharp sound of thunder filled the courtyard.
The Sword Shandian Sect.
Han Cui's hands trembled slightly. He recognized that aura anywhere. It belonged to one of the great sects of the upper realm — famous for its lightning sword arts and arrogance that knew no bounds.
He forced himself to calm down and stepped forward. "Welcome, honored guests," he said, forcing a polite smile. "May I ask which sect you represent?"
A figure floated into the hall.
A tall man with silver hair, wrapped in robes embroidered with lightning bolts. His eyes gleamed like blue fire, and behind him floated six other cultivators — each radiating energy so thick that even the air rippled.
"We are from the Sword Shandian Sect," the man said arrogantly. "Your Han Family has been blessed today. We are recruiting new disciples. Summon every youth in your family immediately."
Han Cui's heart nearly stopped. "All… all of them?"
"Now," the man said coldly. "If you delay, don't blame us for showing no mercy."
The moment the sect members' feet touched the marble floor, Han Cui bowed deeply and shouted, "Summon all disciples! Now!"
The mansion erupted into chaos. Servants ran through corridors, bells rang, and guards shouted orders. The sound of rushing footsteps filled the air as family members scrambled to gather.
Han Cui stood still, watching the chaos unfold, and whispered under his breath, "Why is this happening again… Why are all the sects coming to the Han Family?"
He had no answer.
All he could do was hope that this wouldn't lead to another disaster.
---
Meanwhile, deep inside the mansion, in the kitchen wing, Lu Shaohua walked through the smoke-filled air, clutching the token Wei Ji had given her. The scent of spices and meat filled the room, but the noise and heat made her uneasy.
She stepped forward politely and said, "Excuse me, I need to use the kitchen."
The head chef, a burly man with a thick beard and a stained apron, looked up from the counter. His brows furrowed in irritation. "Who are you? We're busy preparing for the Red Sand Sect's disciples. Get out!"
When two kitchen assistants tried to push her aside, Lu Shaohua held up the bronze token. "Look carefully."
The head chef froze when he saw it. He grabbed the token from her hand and inspected it. His eyes widened for a moment — it was real. The seal of the Han Family's master gleamed clearly under the light.
Then, his expression darkened.
"Where did you get this?"
Lu Shaohua blinked. "It was given to me by my husband, Han Ji."
"Given to you? By that useless brat?" he sneered. "You think I'll believe that? Do you know what this means? You stole this!"
He slammed his hand on the counter, and several pots clattered loudly. The assistants stepped back nervously.
"Do you know what we do to thieves here?" he said, his tone low and threatening. "We cut off their hands first. Then, if they're lucky, we let them work as servants to repay their sins."
He stepped closer, his greasy apron brushing against her sleeve. His breath smelled of oil and liquor.
"But you… you're a woman. The punishment might be different." His grin twisted into something darker. Lust enveloped his gaze. "Maybe we can find another way for you to pay for your crime."
Lu Shaohua's face went cold. Her fingers twitched slightly, her eyes glinting dangerously. But she didn't move. She couldn't for some unknown reason.
The head chef smirked, clearly misreading her silence as fear. "What's wrong? Cat got your tongue? Don't worry. The elders will decide how to deal with you after I'm done questioning you myself."
As he reached toward her, a sudden shout echoed from the hallway.
"All members of the Han Family household are to be summoned immediately! Anyone late will be punished!"
The chef froze, his hand stopping midair.
He looked at Lu Shaohua, scowling. "You're lucky."
He shoved the token back into her hand. "We'll settle this later. I'll meet you later."
He motioned for his assistants to follow, his heavy steps shaking the floor as they rushed toward the courtyard.
Lu Shaohua stood there, her hands trembling slightly, the token that was in his eyes a moment ago… was gone.