As Wei Feng stepped out of the cave, sunlight pierced his vision. He flinched—his eyes, long adjusted to darkness, stung under the morning rays. The mountain breeze tugged at his tattered robes, which barely clung to his frame after enduring two years of relentless physical training. His beard was wild, his hair unkempt, but none who saw him dared laugh.
Because they could feel it.
The aura.
It wasn't spiritual pressure or raw cultivation power it was something more primal. A stillness forged in solitude, a presence honed through repetition and pain. Wei Feng walked like a martial artist who had trained alone on a mountaintop for ten years straight. His posture upright, his steps confident. He now stood 183 centimeters tall, towering above his former self, muscles etched like stone beneath his robes. The boy who had entered the sect was gone.
As he descended the sect's winding stone paths, disciples paused mid-step.
"…Is that him?"
"Impossible. He hasn't shown his face in two years."
"No, that's him! Look at the build"
"Amazing… but he still won't beat Senior Brother Lu Tianhai."
That name rippled through the crowd like a thrown stone in a pond: Lu Tianhai. The current first place in the tournament rankings. Ruthless. Precise. The youngest disciple to ever master the sect's mysterious technique. Known for paralyzing his opponents' arms with one strike. More importantly, the silk-pants son of an elder backed with resources, pride, and arrogance.
As the chatter built behind him, Wei Feng paid it no mind. He continued forward, arriving at the towering red building adorned with fluttering black banners. It was the Hall of Crimson Trials the place where disciples registered to fight in the sect's annual tournament.
Inside, the air was thick with tension. Dozens of hopeful participants gathered in lines, many clad in fresh robes, faces youthful and eager. But when Wei Feng entered, the noise thinned into silence.
He was the tallest in the hall. The bulkiest. His eyes didn't waver, and his steps didn't pause. The scent of blood and sweat clung to him like armor.
"I want to register for the tournament," Wei Feng said, stepping up to the registration desk.
The disciple behind the counter, initially disinterested, looked up and froze.
"…Name?" he asked, voice caught somewhere between duty and disbelief.
"Wei Feng."
Almost immediately, a mocking voice cut through the air.
"Hey, newbie! Don't you think you should bathe before showing up in public? You look like an ownerless dog!"
Laughter followed. Wei Feng squinted his eyes and turned his head.
Three stood before him, clearly no ordinary disciples. The leader had gray hair tied back in a stylish knot and wore elaborate robes. The other two were twins with platinum-blond hair, one long and flowing, the other buzzed short. Even in this twisted sect, they stood out like painted porcelain among iron tools.
"We are the twins from the Blood Jade Pavilion," the long-haired twin declared with an arrogant grin, "and our senior brother Mei here is peerless with the spear. Bow now or face the consequences."
Wei Feng blinked, completely at a loss.
"…What?" he muttered, genuinely confused.
His silence stretched. It wasn't passive or fearful but oppressive. The kind of silence that weighed on others. The trio faltered slightly.
The younger twin, clearly frustrated, finally snapped. "You took the bounty of the red stone! Senior Mei wanted it, but he had a stomach ache that day. You stole his spotlight!"
Wei Feng's eyes lit up with understanding.
"Ah," he said. "That's it."
He turned back to the clerk. "We'll settle it in the tournament then, if there's any grievance."
He paid the fee calmly.
But as he was about to leave, the buzzed twin hurled a hot beverage at his chest. The splash stained his ragged shirt though he had clearly intended for it to hit Wei Feng's face, he simply couldn't reach.
Excitement surged in the hall. Disciples leaned in.
"Is he gonna fight them?"
"He should! Make that Mei brat eat dirt!"
"…Or maybe he'll get clobbered like everyone else who crosses the Blood Jade Pavilion."
Wei Feng's patience snapped.
"…Alright. Now you're dead."
He took one step forward
"Wait."
The voice cut through the tension like a blade. Everyone froze.
The clerk, who had until now seemed like an ordinary introverted disciple, exuded sudden pressure. He was a Foundation Establishment cultivator.
"You troublemakers can resolve this in the training grounds. Take it there."
And so the crowd, the trio, and Wei Feng all turned, heading toward the open training arenas just outside the hall.
Whispers rippled again:
"He's doomed."
"That Mei guy has elite-level resources and battle arts. Wei Feng? He's a wild dog with muscle."
"He might be tall, but cultivation isn't about muscles. Watch him get folded."
Still… a few disciples squinted at Wei Feng.
"…But doesn't his aura feel weirdly… centered?"
"Yeah. Like… too calm."
"He's either a lunatic, or someone scary."
Wei Feng stood calmly in the dusty training grounds, the scent of sweat and iron thick in the air. Around him, disciples crowded the perimeter, their excited whispers creating a buzzing tension.
On the other side, the two blonde brothers prepared themselves. Senior Brother Mei, the gray-haired leader, remained seated among the crowd, arms crossed, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he watched.
Wei Feng cocked his head slightly, a hint of a smile on his face.
"Two against one? Funny. You silk-pants types bark loud, but when the fight comes, you only dare to gang up."
The buzz-cut twin sneered. "Hmph! Aren't you the legendary star newbie? Stop whining and fight!"
"So be it," Wei Feng muttered.
In truth, he was pleasantly surprised. After two years of isolation, this was a perfect chance to test the extent of his rebuilt body and new powers. His body relaxed naturally into a loose boxing stance, his muscles fluid and his weight balanced on the balls of his feet.
The buzz-cut twin moved first. Wearing a pair of luxurious gloves glinting faintly with runic engravings, he charged forward. His punches were swift and carried weight behind them fast and dangerous in the eyes of most bystanders.
The crowd erupted.
"Look how strong Senior Brother Bai's strikes are!"
"Even he'll be flattened!"
Yet, to Wei Feng, the blows seemed sluggish, filled with glaring openings.
He dodged the first punch easily, tilting his head just slightly to the side. His arms moved lazily, brushing aside the second and third strikes like they were an afterthought.
At that moment, three arrows whistled through the air. The long-haired twin had already notched and fired, each arrow aimed expertly at a different point: shoulder, thigh, and chest.
But Wei Feng simply bent his knees slightly, sprang into the air, and spun midair like a leaf caught in the wind.
The crowd gasped.
He rotated gracefully, weaving between the arrows, not a single one so much as grazing his robes. His landing was soft, balanced, and utterly calm.
The disciples watching were frozen.
"Did you see that?"
"He dodged three arrows midair! How...?"
Even Senior Brother Mei's smile faltered ever so slightly.
Wei Feng straightened up, dusting off his tattered robes casually, a bored look in his sharp, predatory eyes.
"Is that it?" he said lightly, almost disappointed.
The real fight was just about to begin.
The two brothers, their faces burning with humiliation, suddenly roared and released their Qi, letting it run wild across the training grounds.
A violent gust of wind swept through the area as the golden hue of their Qi became visible, surging around them like a pair of raging storms.
"Nine meridians!" someone from the crowd shouted, voice full of awe and disbelief.
"They're both at nine meridians!"
The spectators stirred into an excited frenzy. Even Senior Brother Mei allowed himself a pleased nod, arms still crossed but his eyes sharpening with interest.
The long-haired twin, feeling the power course through his body, smirked arrogantly at Wei Feng.
"If you bow a hundred times and call me 'Grandpa,' I might just spare you!" he jeered, raising his chin proudly.
Wei Feng simply stared at him with a look of genuine disgust, as if their very existence was an insult to the air he breathed. He slowly shook his head and, without saying a word, silently released his own cultivation pressure.
BOOM!
It was like the very air was crushed. A tangible force pressed down on the training grounds. Dust and pebbles lifted from the ground only to be pinned midair by the weight of his presence.
Ten meridians.
The oppressive might of Wei Feng's Qi crashed down upon the two brothers and even Senior Brother Mei in the stands and for a brief moment, the entire training grounds fell into complete silence.
The brothers' smirks froze on their faces. Their bodies stiffened, cold sweat breaking out down their backs.
Senior Brother Mei's expression darkened; the lazy amusement in his eyes was wiped clean, replaced by a trace of grim seriousness.
The crowd exploded into an uproar.
"Ten meridians!"
"That hobo-looking guy has ten meridians!"
"Isn't he just a newbie?!"
"How can this be?!"
Wei Feng stood there calmly, his robes fluttering ever so slightly under the pressure he himself emitted, his expression bored, as if none of this was worth even a fraction of his attention.
The tide of the fight had completely shifted before a single new blow was even exchanged.
Senior Brother Mei, standing high above with arms folded, threw a death glare toward the noisy crowd. Immediately, silence descended. The disciples who were just gossiping now lowered their heads, not daring to utter another word. No one wanted to offend the son of an elder—especially one as ruthless as Mei.
On the training grounds, the two brothers exchanged glances.
It was subtle, but Wei Feng caught it.
The buzzcut brother began making rapid incantations with his hands, grotesque energies swirling around him. From his back, fleshy, malformed clones began to erupt like parasites being born. Their figures were distorted ugly mockeries of himself.
Wei Feng, sensing danger, acted without hesitation.
With a violent stomp, he blasted off the ground like a cannonball toward the buzzcut brother, moving faster than the eye could follow.
The clones weren't even fully formed yet.
But just as he closed in, a strange sensation gripped him time seemed to slow. His instincts screamed.
Without thinking, Wei Feng punched the ground mid-flight.
BOOM!
A crater formed under his fist, and his body abruptly stopped, rooted into the earth just five meters short of reaching the buzzcut brother.
At that very moment, an arrow whizzed past where his head would have been, embedding into the ground with a loud thunk.
Wei Feng's gaze snapped toward the long-haired blond twin.
To his shock, the twin had somehow sprouted an extra pair of arms from his back. Each hand now gripped a bow, and as he loosed arrows rapidly, he chanted strange incantations under his breath. Tiny portals no bigger than a tennis ball opened before the arrows, swallowing them into nothingness.
Wei Feng's senses sharpened.
Dangerous.
Suddenly arrows from six different directions burst forth from surrounding portals.
Without hesitating, Wei Feng raised one hand, forming an invisible, translucent shield using his budding telekinetic powers.
The arrows slammed into the barrier, creating spiderweb cracks across its surface.
The shield held, but barely.
As Wei Feng prepared to retaliate, a new threat emerged
the buzzcut brother's clones, four of them, lunged toward him. Each clone was a grotesque mutation:
one was morbidly obese, another skeletal and tall, one a hunched dwarf, and the last missing an arm.
Their movements were erratic but aggressive, forcing Wei Feng's attention to split.
SWISH!
A searing pain ripped across his shoulder.
Wei Feng grunted in pain, his eyes narrowing.
He turned to see a tiny portal inside his shield, placed discreetly, had allowed a single arrow to bypass his defense.
Blood dripped from his wound.
Wei Feng's expression grew cold, deadly serious for the first time.
No more testing.
It was time to end this.