The scream of the bodyguard pinned to the table tore through the noisy atmosphere of the Drunken Immortal Tavern like a jagged knife.
The wooden chopstick, usually a fragile utensil for eating rice, had pierced through flesh, tendon, and table oak as if it were a steel nail. The bodyguard, a hulking man at the 4th Level of Body Refining, stared at his own hand in horrified disbelief, his knees buckling as blood pooled rapidly around his half-eaten bowl of beef.
Silence descended. Total, suffocating silence.
The mercenaries and hunters in the room froze, cups halfway to their mouths. In Willow Creek Town, fights were common. But this level of casual, brutal precision? That was rare.
Young Master Wang Long stared at his servant, his face flushing from shock to a deep, violent purple. The golden fan in his hand crumpled slightly under his grip.
"You..." Wang Long's voice trembled with rage. "You dare cripple my dog in front of me?"
Han Feng didn't answer immediately. He picked up his wine cup with his free hand and took a slow sip. The cheap rice wine burned his throat, a stark contrast to the cold calculation in his mind.
"He reached for me," Han Feng said, setting the cup down. "I simply pinned the offending limb."
"Kill him!" Wang Long shrieked, pointing the fan at Han Feng. "Cut him into pieces and feed him to the stray dogs!"
The remaining three bodyguards roared. They were elites of the Mayor's household, all at the 4th Level of Body Refining. They drew their weapons—heavy iron broadswords—and charged. The wooden floorboards groaned under their combined weight.
The onlookers scrambled back, knocking over chairs.
"He's dead," a mercenary whispered. "Three on one in a corner? No space to dodge."
Han Feng didn't dodge.
As the first blade whistled toward his neck, Han Feng remained seated. He simply raised his left forearm to block.
CLANG!
The sound wasn't the wet thud of metal hitting flesh. It was the ringing bell-tone of metal striking metal.
The bodyguard's eyes bulged. His sword had stopped dead against Han Feng's sleeve. The fabric tore, revealing skin that shimmered with a faint, jade-like luster. Underneath that skin, the Star-Steel Bones absorbed the kinetic energy instantly.
"My turn," Han Feng whispered.
He stood up.
The movement was explosive. He didn't just rise; he launched himself upward. He grabbed the shocked bodyguard by the throat and slammed him down onto the table.
CRACK.
The sturdy oak table shattered into splinters. The bodyguard's spine snapped with the sound of a dry branch. He went limp instantly.
The other two guards faltered. "Monster... he's a monster!"
"Don't stop, you idiots!" Wang Long screamed.
Han Feng turned to the remaining two. He didn't use any fancy techniques. He didn't need to. The fusion with the Star-Iron Meteorite had made his skeleton incredibly dense. A simple backhand from him carried the weight of a sledgehammer.
He stepped inside the guard's reach and punched.
[ Technique: Iron-Breaking Fist ]
The fist connected with the guard's chest armor. The leather armor exploded outward. The guard flew backward across the room, crashing into the wine rack, bottles shattering in a rain of ceramic and alcohol. He didn't get up.
The last guard dropped his sword. His will to fight evaporated. He turned to run.
Han Feng kicked a piece of the broken table leg. It flew like an arrow, striking the fleeing guard in the back of the knee. The man crumbled with a wail.
It had taken less than ten breaths of time. Four elite guards were down.
Han Feng stood amidst the wreckage, dusting off his hemp robes. He looked calm, almost bored. He turned his gaze to the only person left standing.
Wang Long.
The Young Master was trembling. He was a 5th Level cultivator—technically stronger than Han Feng's 4th Level. But cultivation levels meant nothing when one side was a greenhouse flower and the other was a wolf raised in the dark.
"You... do you know who my father is?" Wang Long stammered, stepping back. "I am the future Lord of Willow Creek! If you touch me—"
Han Feng walked forward. Each step was heavy, cracking the floorboards slightly.
"I don't care who your father is," Han Feng said, his voice devoid of emotion. "I only care about who you are right now."
Wang Long's fear turned into hysterical desperation. "I am a 5th Level genius! Die!"
He snapped his golden fan open. The fan was a Low-Tier Human Artifact. As he waved it, razor-sharp blades extended from the ribs of the fan, and a gust of wind infused with Qi slashed toward Han Feng.
[ Technique: Gale Slicing Wind ]
The wind blades tore through the air, sharp enough to decapitate a horse.
Han Feng narrowed his eyes. The Akashic Root in his dantian pulsed. Time seemed to slow. He could see the flow of the wind Qi. It was sloppy, full of gaps.
Han Feng didn't retreat. He charged through the wind.
Sshhhk. Sshhhk.
The wind blades slashed his robes, leaving white marks on his skin but failing to cut deep. Han Feng ignored the stinging pain. He closed the distance in a blink.
Wang Long tried to swing the bladed fan at Han Feng's throat.
Han Feng caught the fan.
With his bare hand.
"What?!" Wang Long gasped. He tried to pull the fan back, but it was like trying to pull a mountain.
Han Feng's fingers tightened around the metal ribs of the fan.
Cruuunch.
The gold, steel, and jade of the artifact crumpled like paper in Han Feng's grip. The expensive weapon was destroyed instantly.
Han Feng released the broken trash and backhanded Wang Long across the face.
Smack!
Wang Long spun in the air, spitting out blood and three teeth, before crashing to the floor.
Han Feng walked over and placed his foot on Wang Long's chest. He applied a little pressure. Just enough to make Wang Long's ribs groan.
"P-please..." Wang Long wheezed, tears and snot running down his face. The arrogance was gone, replaced by the terror of a child facing a predator. "Don't kill me... I'll give you anything. Money? Women?"
Han Feng leaned down. The silver light in his eyes dimmed, making him look like a normal human again, which was somehow more terrifying.
"I heard you mention the White Crane Sect earlier," Han Feng said softly. "You have a recommendation token, don't you?"
Wang Long nodded frantically. "Yes! Yes! In my sash! Take it!"
Han Feng reached into the Young Master's silk sash and pulled out a heavy jade token carved with a crane spreading its wings. It was a Direct Entry Token. With this, one didn't need to queue with the thousands of commoners; they could go straight to the inner exams.
Han Feng inspected it, nodded, and tucked it into his robe.
"One more thing," Han Feng said.
"Anything!"
"Your money pouch."
Wang Long hurriedly unhooked a heavy embroidered purse and handed it over.
Han Feng weighed it. At least fifty Spirit Stones. A fortune.
He stepped off Wang Long's chest. The tavern was dead silent. Even the innkeeper was hiding behind the counter, praying not to be noticed.
"If you want revenge," Han Feng said, looking down at the weeping Young Master, "come find me at the White Crane Sect. But next time, bring your father. You are too boring."
Han Feng turned and walked out of the tavern, stepping over the groaning bodies of the guards.
Outside, the sun was setting, casting long orange shadows over Willow Creek Town.
Han Feng walked quickly, weaving through the alleyways to lose any potential tails. His heart was beating calmly, but his body felt heavy. The burst of strength from the Star-Steel Bones consumed a lot of stamina.
He needed a safe place to digest his gains.
He didn't return to his old inn. That place was compromised now. He went to the outskirts of town, finding an abandoned miller's shed near the river.
Once inside, he sat down and exhaled a long breath.
He looked at his arms. His robes were in tatters, slashed by the wind blades. There were faint red welts on his skin, but they were already fading.
"Level 5 attack... and it barely scratched me," Han Feng muttered. The power of the Earth-Tier physique was terrifying. If he had been a normal Level 4 cultivator, that fan would have sliced him in half.
He opened Wang Long's money pouch.
Loot Tally:
52 Low-Grade Spirit Stones.
3 Mid-Grade Spirit Stones (Worth 100 Low-Grade each).
A bottle of 'Blood Clotting Pills' (Healing).
The White Crane Token.
"Rich," Han Feng smiled. A grim, predatory smile. "With these resources, I can stabilize my foundation."
He took out a Mid-Grade Spirit Stone. It hummed with power, the energy inside pure and dense.
"Devour."
The Akashic Root roared to life. Unlike the low-grade trash, this stone tasted like fine wine. The energy poured into his meridians, washing away the fatigue of the battle.
The Root in his Dantian began to wiggle. A second leaf was forming.
[ Significant Energy Source Ingested. ] [ Second Leaf Unfurling... ] [ Ability Unlocking: "The Phantom Step." ]
Han Feng's mind was pulled into the archive. He saw shadows moving. The "Phantom Step" wasn't a technique he stole from someone else; it was a memory from the Root itself, a fragment of the ancient era.
It was a footwork technique. To move not through space, but through the gaps in perception.
Han Feng closed his eyes, entering a deep trance.
Three days passed.
The town of Willow Creek was in an uproar. The Mayor was furious. Guards were scouring every inn and house looking for the "man in the bamboo hat." A bounty of 1,000 Spirit Stones was placed on his head.
But the man had vanished.
On the morning of the fourth day, the mist cleared from the valley floor.
A massive gathering was taking place at the foot of the Cloud-Peak Mountain, the home of the White Crane Sect. Thousands of hopeful youths were gathered in the massive plaza, nervously awaiting the start of the entrance trials.
They were separated into lines. The "Common Line" stretched for miles.
But there was another line. The "VIP Line." Only those with noble backgrounds or recommendation tokens stood there.
A young man walked up to the VIP gate. He wore fresh, clean black robes and a simple wooden mask covering the lower half of his face. His hair was tied up in a warrior's knot.
"Token?" The Sect Elder at the gate asked, looking bored.
The young man handed over a jade token with a crane on it.
The Elder checked it. "Direct Entry Token. Issued to... the Wang Family?" The Elder frowned and looked at the young man. "You are not Wang Long."
The young man looked the Elder in the eye. His gaze was calm, like a deep, still pool of water.
"Young Master Wang realized his talent was insufficient," the young man said smoothly. "He gifted this to me, hoping I would bring glory to Willow Creek in his stead."
It was a blatant lie. But in the cultivation world, possession was nine-tenths of the law. If you had the token, you had the right.
The Elder smirked. He sensed the faint, dangerous fluctuation of Qi radiating from this boy. Bone Forging Peak. And a body that smells of blood.
"Interesting," the Elder muttered. He tossed the token back. "Pass. Name?"
The young man stepped through the gate.
"Han Feng."
[ Quest Updated: Enter the White Crane Sect. ] [ Status: Success. ] [ New Objective: Locate the "Spirit Vein" of the mountain and feed the Root. ]
The trials were about to begin. And the wolf was now among the sheep.