The silence in the Hall of Ancestors was no longer the silence of shock; it was the silence of a graveyard.
Every disciple, from the lowest servant to the most arrogant inner-circle genius, stared at Han Feng as if he were a ghost. The Great Elder, a man who had ruled the Han Clan's internal affairs with an iron fist for decades, was currently on his knees, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
"Layer 9..." the Elder wheezed, his eyes bloodshot. "It's impossible. Even the Sect Leaders of the Great Valleys took years to reach the Peak of Qi Refining. You... you were a mortal heartbeat ago!"
Han Feng didn't answer immediately. He was too busy feeling the sensation of the Apex Parity System. It wasn't just about strength; it was about clarity. At the 9th Layer of Qi Refining, his senses had expanded to a radius of fifty meters. He could hear the frantic heartbeat of the disciples behind him and the whistle of the wind through the eaves of the pagoda outside.
Most importantly, he could feel the "logic" of the world. Power was the only currency here.
"Impossible?" Han Feng finally spoke, his voice echoing off the high rafters. "In this world, 'impossible' is just a word used by the weak to describe their own limits. You called me trash, Elder. If I am trash at Layer 9, then what are you, kneeling there at Layer 8?"
The Elder's face flushed a deep, shameful purple. He tried to circulate his Qi to stand, but the invisible wall of Han Feng's n+1 pressure slammed down every time he tried to rise. It was like trying to stand up under a falling sky.
"Han Feng! Don't go too far!" Han Li yelled from the corner, though he was still clutching his broken wrist. "You've clearly used some forbidden demonic art to temporarily boost your cultivation! When the City Lord finds out, you'll be executed!"
Han Feng turned his gaze toward Han Li. The younger man flinched, nearly falling over.
"Forbidden art?" Han Feng mused. "Perhaps. Or perhaps the heavens simply grew tired of watching a group of mid-wits bully a man with more potential in his pinky finger than your entire bloodline."
Suddenly, a thunderous boom shook the entire estate.
The heavy iron-wood gates of the Han Clan's main courtyard burst open with a crash that could be heard for miles. A streak of blue light soared into the sky, hovering directly above the Hall of Ancestors.
A man stood in mid-air, his robes fluttering in the wind. He wasn't flying with wings; he was standing on a floating sword.
[Warning: High-Level Entity Detected.] [Scanning...] [Target: City Lord Ye. Cultivation: Foundation Establishment Layer 1.]
The disciples outside screamed in terror and awe. "The City Lord! A Foundation Establishment expert!"
In the Azure Cloud Continent, the transition from Qi Refining to Foundation Establishment was like the transition from a caterpillar to a butterfly. A Qi Refiner merely gathered energy; a Foundation Establishment expert had condensed that energy into a solid spiritual sea. They were the true lords of the land.
City Lord Ye looked down, his eyes scanning the hall. "Who is releasing such a violent aura in my city? Speak, or I shall flatten this estate!"
The Great Elder's eyes lit up with hope. "City Lord! Help! This disciple, Han Feng, has fallen into the demonic path! He has stolen the clan's treasures and is using a forbidden technique to threaten his elders!"
Han Feng looked up at the man on the sword. The pressure coming from City Lord Ye was different—it felt heavy, like deep water. If the Elder was a hill, this man was a mountain.
But the System didn't care about metaphors.
[Ding!] [Enemy detected: City Lord Ye (Foundation Establishment Layer 1).] [Logic Triggered: Host level must be n+1.] [Calculating New Realm...] [Adjustment Complete: Host is now at Foundation Establishment Layer 2.]
CRACK.
The ground beneath Han Feng didn't just crack this time—it exploded. A pillar of white, crystalline Qi erupted from his body, tearing through the roof of the Hall of Ancestors and shooting into the clouds.
The blue light of the City Lord was swallowed by the blinding white radiance of Han Feng's breakthrough.
Up in the air, City Lord Ye's eyes widened to the size of saucers. His flying sword began to wobble. "What? Foundation Establishment? No... this pressure is higher than mine! Foundation Establishment Layer 2?!"
Han Feng didn't wait. He didn't have a flying sword, but with his new level of power, he didn't need one. He flexed his legs and leaped.
He moved so fast he disappeared from the sight of the disciples below. He reappeared ten meters in front of the City Lord, suspended in the air by the sheer density of his own Qi.
"You wanted to flatten this estate?" Han Feng asked, his eyes glowing with a faint, dangerous light.
City Lord Ye broke out into a cold sweat. He had spent forty years reaching the 1st Layer of Foundation Establishment. He was the supreme power in this region. Yet, standing before him was a teenager whose aura made his own spiritual sea feel like a drying puddle.
"I... I was misinformed," the City Lord stammered, his hand trembling on his sword hilt. "I felt a massive surge of Qi and assumed a demonic cultivator had invaded..."
"And now?" Han Feng asked, taking a step forward in the air.
With every step Han Feng took, the City Lord's flying sword sank a few inches lower, forced down by the n+1 weight.
"Now... I see that a peerless genius has been born in the Han Clan!" the City Lord shouted, his voice cracking. He was a survivor; he knew when to fight and when to beg. "Young Master Han, please forgive my intrusion! I had no idea the Han Clan was hiding a Dragon!"
Below, the Han Clan disciples were catatonic. The City Lord—the man they treated like a god—was practically begging for mercy from the "Trash" they had mocked an hour ago.
Han Feng looked down at his clan. He saw the Elder hiding his face, and Han Li trembling in the dirt.
He realized something then. The n+1 system didn't just make him stronger; it made him the inevitable ceiling of any room he walked into. He could never be defeated, because the very act of an enemy being stronger was the trigger for his own growth.
"City Lord," Han Feng said calmly. "I'm bored of this city. Tell me... where is the strongest sect in this kingdom?"
The City Lord blinked, stunned. "The... the Heavenly Sword Sect. Their Sect Leader is a Core Formation expert. But that is thousands of miles away..."
"Good," Han Feng smirked. "I think I'll go pay them a visit. But first..."
Han Feng turned his gaze back to the Great Elder in the hall below. "I believe there was a 'Dragon-Marrow Pill' that belonged to my father. Bring it to me. Now. Or I'll see if the City Lord's sword is as sharp as his tongue."
The Great Elder didn't even hesitate. He scrambled toward the treasury as if his life depended on it—because it did.
Han Feng stood in the sky, the wind whipping his hair. For the first time in two lives, he wasn't looking at a spreadsheet. He was looking at a world that was about to find out that no matter how high they climbed, he would always be one step higher.