Time flew.
Three days had passed since Yang Fan returned to the Breaking Clan. Clansmen had gradually grown accustomed to his presence.
With no sign of escape attempts, Third Uncle—tasked with watching him—naturally granted Yang Fan more personal space.
One day, as Yang Fan prepared to step out, he paused unconsciously before the dueling platform.
The Blood-Clotting Powder had truly transformed the clan!
He still remembered how pitifully small the platform once was—barely thirty meters across, fit only for one- or two-ring clansmen to spar occasionally.
Now? Expanded to one hundred meters—there was ample space for Soul Ancestors to duel freely, even Soul Kings to test their mettle.
"Yang Fan!"
"Come up! Show us what three years of training outside has forged!"
Yang Fan's arrival instantly drew every eye.
The clan's prodigy! From the moment his martial soul awakened, he'd embodied the Breaking Clan's hope.
Naturally, everyone burned to know his progress.
Yet Chief Yang Wudi had claimed Yang Fan hadn't even reached two rings—a statement that left clansmen quietly disappointed.
After all… he possessed innate full soul power!
In Douluo continent's history, no full-soul-power prodigy had ever failed to reach two rings by age nine.
But they couldn't voice this.
Even Yang Wudi himself was only Level 19 at nine. The Breaking Clan had never produced such a young two-ringer.
"Not today," Yang Fan declined. "I have errands outside."
Third Uncle shot up reflexively. "I'll accompany you."
He'd permit Yang Fan to roam the clan grounds—but never alone beyond them.
Yang Fan raised no objection.
Three years had reshaped Yunluo City. He welcomed a hometown guide.
After he left, whispers spread:
"Do you think Yang Fan's strength…"
"Hush! Not reaching two rings doesn't mean he's weak. Among our youths, he's still unmatched."
Yang Wudi's vague reply and Yang Fan's silence bred doubt.
There was no denying his talent was off the charts—yet what had truly happened these three years?
Watching his retreating back, clansmen's hearts held a quiet question mark.
…
Meanwhile.
Inside the clan hall, three elders sat in grim silence.
Only Second Elder Yang Wutian's vigorous pipe-puffing and swirling smoke broke the stillness.
After a long pause, Yang Wudi spoke:
"The incident happened. The Breaking Clan must bear responsibility. We proceed as planned."
After a night's deliberation:
Allocate 50,000 gold soul coins to buy herbs, refine Blood-Clotting Powder urgently, and deliver it as compensation.
Goal: to salvage the newly opened Star Luo noble sales channel.
"But then our liquid funds drop to 50,000!"
This was the pain point.
They'd planned to leverage the Elite Tournament to promote their powder—but 50,000 gold as startup capital? It wouldn't amount to anything!
"We have no choice," Yang Wudi sighed. "This is all we can do."
A reluctant decision.
Whether it saved the channel was uncertain—but the accident had already erased two years of progress.
The Elephant Armor Sect's knife cut deep.
"Damn it!" The Grand Elder slammed the table. Rage at their enemies—and guilt over his failed escort—burned in his voice.
"Enough," Yang Wudi said quietly. "Even if our entire clan confronts them, can we recover 300,000 gold?"
The truth was bitter: the Breaking Clan, though improved, remained no match for the sixth-ranked Elephant Armor Sect.
"Stop arguing!" Yang Wudi commanded. "Once the boys return with herbs, we begin refining."
50,000 gold worth of herbs required five days of nonstop work by the whole clan.
Before echoes faded—a tall clansman burst in, breathless:
"Chief! There's trouble!"
Three elders froze.
Another crisis now could shatter everything.
"The Blood-Clotting Grass… have been bought out everywhere!"
Though Yao Lao's formula allowed minor substitutions, Blood-Clotting Grass was irreplaceable.
"Bought out?!" Yang Wudi's mind reeled.
How? Common hemostatic herbs selling out? In remote Yunluo City—with no elite academies?
Second Elder set down his pipe. "Check neighboring towns!"
"We did! Qingfeng Town, Heimu Cliff—all swept clean!"
Silence shattered.
It was a conspiracy!
Someone knew the Blood-Clotting Grass was key to their powder—and severed their economic lifeline.
"Who?" Yang Wudi already knew. Only one faction relished crushing the Breaking Clan.
"We investigated… nothing. Apothecaries say a mysterious merchant bought everything last night. It's the same story everywhere."
The clansman's voice cracked.
The fragile hope of better days evaporated.
"Son of a bitch! The Elephant Armor Sect leaves us no path!"
All three elders knew the truth.
"How much inventory remains?"
Second Elder replied resignedly: "Under 1,000 gold worth."
Only enough for small-scale operations. Minimal liquid funds. No one imagined this herb would vanish.
"Enough." Yang Wudi stood. "Tomorrow, I will go to Star Luo City myself. Wutian stays to guard the clan."
Plans abandoned. Life pressed on. He prayed the buyer would understand.
Outside, clansmen gathered silently. They knew what this meant.
The courtyard fell into deathly stillness—faces grim, hope fading.
"Hahaha—!"
Third Uncle strode in beaming, munching snacks Yang Fan bought him.
He looked like a joyful child under the gate.
No one smiled back.
"Why the long faces?" he boomed. "I bring great news—"
Second Elder cut in sharply: "Clan business is ongoing! No barging in!"
But Third Uncle, rough and unfiltered, swaggered forward:
"You won't believe Yang Fan's success! This morning, he took me to Yunluo's largest apothecary. Walked in, asked: 'Is my pre-ordered medicine ready?' Next thing—owner pulls out a storage soul tool with 200,000 gold worth of Blood-Clotting Grass!"
His eyes shone with remembered thrill.
Since leaving the Hao Tian Sect, he'd never felt such lavish power—even standing beside Yang Fan made his heart race.
"200,000?!" Elders shot up.
"You bought out Yunluo's supply?!"
"Yes! Qingfeng Town, Heimu Cliff—all swept clean by us! For a total cost of 800,000!"
Third Uncle now radiated pure fandom.
For a clan starved of prosperity, spending 800,000 gold was unimaginable euphoria.
"Hiss—!"
Silence returned—only stunned breaths broke it.
"You're joking…"
Third Uncle never lied. His vivid telling swayed some—but Yang Fan possessing 800,000 gold? The elders remained skeptical.
"Yang Fan—show them!" Third Uncle's pride flared. Too poor to know extravagance? Time to educate them.
Yang Fan calmly drew a soul tool from his pocket. Soul power flowed—
Crates erupted—Blood-Clotting Grass flooded the courtyard.
Yang Wudi staggered.
The entire sect stood thunderstruck.
It was true.
Yang Fan had single-handedly secured the clan's lifeline.
Clansmen stared at the mountain of herbs—at the youth who'd saved them—and felt tears well. Some nearly kowtowed.
"Real Blood-Clotting Grass!"
"He quietly bought this for us?"
"Struck gold outside, didn't he?"
Yang Fan's deed cemented his legacy.
Many already saw him as the undisputed next chief—regardless of his cultivation progress.
"Xi… Xiao Fan," Yang Wudi's voice trembled. "How…?"
He knew his grandson's strength, his abnormal rings—but this wealth?
"Bought it!" Yang Fan grinned. "I found a soul tool on the road during my travels. It had exactly 1 million gold soul coins inside."
No lie this time.
Yet this explanation was Yang Wudi's least believable.
Found it?
I'm currently seventy years old… how come I've never found one?
But Yang Wudi let it pass.
Too many secrets surrounded this boy. Secrets the clan must never know.
"Unload the goods!" Yang Wudi's voice shook with emotion.
"Xiao Fan… on behalf of the clan—thank you. You saved the Breaking Clan today."
The elders also doubted the "found money" tale—but decades of hardship had taught them:
Some truths are spoken. Some truths are to be shielded.
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