A sharp gust of wind swept through the training courtyard as a grey-robed elder of the Chen Household stepped forward. His stern eyes bore down on Han Fei, whose chest rose and fell with rage. The aura of the elder trembled subtly with spiritual pressure—enough to demand silence from the surrounding disciples.
"If you seek justice," the elder's voice boomed, like a falling gong, his brows furrowed deeply, "then take your complaints to the Patriarch. Do not disturb Chen Ying's cultivation again."
His eyes narrowed into a cold glare as he turned to glance at the unconscious form of Chen Jin, sprawled across the tiled floor like a broken puppet.
Han Fei clenched her fists, lips trembling. Before she could utter a protest, a calm, cold voice broke the silence.
"I had no reason to retaliate," Chen Ying said flatly, his long black hair fluttering gently behind him. Dressed in deep robes that shimmered faintly, he stood at the center of the courtyard like a silent storm.
"Chen Jin interrupted my cultivation session," he continued, his eyes emotionless yet sharp. He raised his hand slowly and pointed toward the two pale-faced maidservants collapsed on the ground.
"He attempted to poison me with that powder. They inhaled it before I could deflect it completely."
The elder's eyes widened slightly as his gaze followed Chen Ying's pointing finger. The aura around him pulsed subtly as he examined the lingering scent in the air.
"That powder," the elder muttered, "to an ordinary person, causes instant unconsciousness. To a cultivator, it dulls the meridians and blocks the spiritual veins for three days." He paused, his gaze sweeping over the scene.
"But if the poison isn't expelled soon…" he glanced at the maidservants and then at Han Fei, "...they will die."
Han Fei gasped, her eyes widening in horror. The sudden weight of the situation sank into her. Her vision blurred as the remnants of the powder finally took effect—her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the ground, her hands trembling as she crawled to her son's side.
"Jin'er!" she cried weakly, shaking his motionless form. But there was no response.
The elder's face darkened. With a wave of his sleeve, he barked a command.
"Guards! Take them away—both the boy and the maids. Begin immediate detoxification treatment. Have the alchemists work on a remedy."
Several guards, clad in crimson armor bearing the Chen insignia, stepped forward and swiftly carried the unconscious away with practiced precision.
Chen Ying watched in silence, his expression unreadable. Then, without waiting for further words, he nodded respectfully to the elder, his robe fluttering as he turned and walked away, his back straight, his steps calm and unhurried.
The grand ancestral bell had tolled twice, signaling an urgent family summons. Elders, disciples, and inner-circle members assembled one by one. But even among them, Chen Xin stood out, cloaked in grey robes, his long hair tied with a silver thread. His eyes were calm, but the air around him held a chilling weight and wI ondered what went on between Chen Ying and Chen Jin standings beside his sister Chen Xue.
He stood at the far side of the hall, arms crossed, observing everything with hawk-like precision.
On the dais, seated beneath the grand dragon tapestry, the Chen Patriarch watched the crowd settle. His presence alone was enough to silence even the whisper of wind.
Han Fei stormed forward, her silk robes rustling like angry flames. Her face was twisted with rage, and without hesitation, she thrust her finger at Chen Ying, who stood beside his wife Yan Mei, calm but alert.
"This brat nearly killed my son!" she roared, voice sharp as a blade. "Look at what he's become because of him!"
The crowd murmured. All eyes turned to Chen Ying, whose bandaged arm still bore faint traces of blood seeping through the wrappings.
Chen Ying took a breath, unfazed by her aggression. He slowly raised his injured hand for all to see, the bloodstain like a badge of defiance. His voice was steady, carrying both resolve and pride.
"I had no intention of killing your son. He disrupted my cultivation and raised his sword against me first. I defended myself."
"You—!" Han Fei snarled, spiritual energy crackling around her like wild lightning. Her nails bit into her palms as her fury spiraled.
Before her rage could explode further, the Patriarch's gaze turned icy, locking onto her. He lifted a hand, and the hall fell deathly silent.
"Han Fei." His tone was grave. "Your son injured Ying'er without provocation. You know full well he has only just begun his cultivation path. Why was your son anywhere near his training grounds? Explain yourself."
Han Fei flinched. Her spiritual energy wavered, her fists trembling—but she stayed silent.
Chen Xin exhaled slowly, his gaze still trained on Han Fei. He had felt it all along—something was off. This wasn't just a petty conflict between Chen Ying and Chen Jin. His fingers tapped lightly on his robe repeatedly, then clenched his fist slightly.
Suddenly—BOOM!
The heavy doors to the hall slammed open, and a guard burst in, panting, blood smearing his armor. His voice rang out, cutting through the tension.
"Report!"
Everyone turned.
The Patriarch stood up, robes flowing like waves as his spiritual presence rippled through the chamber.
"Speak."
The guard dropped to one knee, fists clenched.
"We found traces of centipede venom in Lady Han Fei's quarters... and..."
He paused, motioning behind him. Another guard entered, carrying the limp, lifeless body of a fellow guard. His skin was darkened, veins black with poison. Gasps filled the hall.
"What...?! Han Fei poisoned Chen Ying?!" the Patriarch's voice thundered with fury.
Han Fei staggered back, face drained of color. Her lips moved, but no words came. Chen Ying's expression darkened, while Yan Mei gripped his arm protectively.
Before anyone could speak further, a golden blur flashed into the room.
A young woman clad in yellow hanfu stumbled into the hall. Her hair was loose, her eyes red with tears—but unmistakable. Everyone recognized her.
"Mian Mian...?!" someone whispered.
"She was presumed dead..."
"How is she still alive?!"
Chen Ying took a step forward, stunned. "You... I thought you—"
Chen Xin's gaze sharpened instantly. He interlaced his fingers. His heartbeat slowed. Something huge was about to unfold. His sister, Chen Xue, standing close, noticed his shift and whispered nervously,
"Brother... What's happening?"
Tears streamed down Mian Mian's cheeks as she collapsed to her knees before the Patriarch.
"Patriarch! I-I didn't die! I was ambushed..."
The Patriarch's eyes narrowed. A deadly silence fell over the hall.
"Speak clearly. What happened?"
Mian Mian looked directly at Han Fei, her voice trembling but fierce.
"It was... Han Fei and her son, Chen Jin! They planned everything—the poisoning of the Third Young Master. When I found out, they tried to silence me... I barely escaped!"
The entire hall erupted in shock. Accusations, gasps, spiritual pressure—an uproar ensued. But above them all, Chen Xin stood still as a mountain, eyes closed for a moment.
He whispered only to himself,
"So the rot runs deeper than I thought... Mother never wanted me to stay with Chen Ying only Chen Jin.... just because he was a cripple.."