If it had been in the past, Wang Chen would have cringed so hard at his own words that he might have wished the ground would swallow him whole.

But not now, not when facing these arrogant people.

Sometimes, growth meant doing things you once found unbearably embarrassing. Sometimes, you had to step out of your comfort zone and wear arrogance like armor.

Wang Chen's sudden appearance and ruthless words stunned everyone present.

Including Young Master Yun.

His gaze swept over Wang Chen lazily, assessing him in a single glance. When his divine sense brushed against Wang Chen's cultivation, a faint flicker of amusement crossed his eyes.

Peak of Foundation Building Realm.

That was all.

Interesting.

A trash cultivator at the peak of Foundation Building Realm dared to utter such words?

"Exterminate my clan… the Yun family?" Young Master Yun chuckled softly, as if he had just heard an especially good joke. "How laughable."

A smile naturally curved at the corner of his lips. To him, Wang Chen's threat was nothing more than the noise of an ant squeaking before being crushed, an ignorant frog croaking at the bottom of a well, unaware of how vast the heavens truly were.

He didn't even bother hiding his disdain.

By now, everyone inside the Phoenix and Dragon Dojo had rushed out.

Li Mei stood behind Wang Chen, her eyes cold and sharp, the Nine-Petaled Soul Calming Flame faintly resonating within her. Lin Huang's expression was equally icy, his body subtly tense, ready to move at the slightest sign of danger.

Fang Biyu and Fang Zhirou stepped out more hesitantly, their gazes immediately locking onto Patriarch Fang. Anxiety and fear flickered across their faces, mixed with something deeper… disappointment.

Zhao Yunfei emerged last.

Her expression was solemn, her head slightly tilted as if listening to something only she could hear. Though her eyes were covered, her presence felt strangely heavy, as if the air itself bent around her.

…

Wang Chen frowned.

Not at the enemies before him—but at the figures behind him.

He was worried.

Not for himself, but that the coming clash might accidentally injure his disciples.

That alone was enough to sour his mood.

Before he could say anything, Patriarch Fang's furious roar echoed across the sky, thick with suppressed rage:

"You unfilial daughters! You finally dared to show yourselves after shaming my Fang family in front of honored guests!"

The moment his eyes landed on Fang Biyu and Fang Zhirou, the fury in his expression ignited like oil thrown onto fire.

His furious shout dragged everyone's attention toward the two sisters.

Under the combined gazes of countless cultivators, Fang Biyu and Fang Zhirou felt their knees weaken. Their faces turned pale, breaths turning shallow. They were still barely cultivators—mortals who had only stepped onto the path a few days ago.

To them, the gaze of Deity Transformation Realm experts was no different from a mountain pressing down on their souls, crushing their will inch by inch.

Their vision blurred. Their bodies trembled.

"Hmph."

A soft sound escaped Wang Chen's lips.

Yet the effect was immediate.

The invisible pressure blanketing the sisters vanished as if it had never existed, like frost evaporating beneath the morning sun. The suffocating weight disappeared, replaced by a sudden, unsettling calm.

The two sisters staggered slightly, barely managing to steady themselves, disbelief flashing across their faces.

Wang Chen didn't even spare them a glance.

There was no need to waste any more time.

His eyes turned cold.

Slowly, deliberately, he raised a hand and spoke in a flat, emotionless tone:

"Rong Luo."

The name alone caused a subtle ripple in the air.

"Make sure none of them are injured. If even a single scratch appears on these disciples…"

Wang Chen paused, his gaze sharpening imperceptibly.

"…hmph."

He didn't finish the sentence.

He didn't need to.

Rong Luo understood perfectly.

In the next instant, his figure flickered like a specter. One moment he was nowhere to be seen, the next he had already appeared beside Lin Huang and the others. He placed a fist over his chest and bowed his head slightly.

"For me, Master's command is law."

Once, Rong Luo had resented Wang Chen deeply. The seals in his spiritual space had felt like humiliation, like shackles clamped onto his pride.

But that resentment had long since been burned away.

After witnessing Wang Chen face a Deity Transformation Three-Eyed demon head-on—and crush it—Rong Luo's perception had completely changed.

He understood now.

The fact that he was still alive was not mercy. It was fortune.

If Wang Chen had truly wanted him dead, not even his soul would have remained.

So this time, his nod carried no reluctance.

Only resolve.

As long as his life was not on the brink of extinction, he would protect Wang Chen's disciples at all costs—even if it meant dying in their place.

Wang Chen nodded faintly in Rong Luo's direction, a trace of approval flashing through his eyes.

Then his gaze shifted back to the figures floating before him.

His voice was calm. Too calm.

"Now tell me," he said evenly, "how would you like to die?"

The words fell lightly, yet the moment they were spoken, Patriarch Fang and Young Master Yun felt as if an invisible blade had pressed against their throats—cold, merciless, ready to spill blood at the slightest movement.

Puchi!

This time, it wasn't just an illusion.

A thin blood-red line suddenly appeared on Young Master Yun's fair neck, as if carved by an unseen edge. A single drop of blood slid downward.

His expression froze.

Then his face darkened to the color of charcoal. Veins bulged on his clenched fists as he glared at Wang Chen with eyes burning in fury and disbelief.

"How dare you…!" he hissed instinctively.

The two Dharma Protectors were completely stunned.

"Young Master!" one of them shouted in alarm.

Without hesitation, one Dharma Protector stepped forward, positioning himself squarely in front of Young Master Yun like a human shield. At the same time, the other flicked his sleeve and produced a jade-green pill, forcing it into the Young Master's mouth.

The pill melted instantly.

Anyone with even basic alchemical knowledge would have recognized it at once—the Green Dew Pill, a treasure capable of healing severe injuries at the Deity Transformation Realm.

Yet here it was.

Used to treat a single, shallow wound.

In the blink of an eye, the red line vanished as if it had never existed.

The skin was flawless once more.

But no one relaxed.

If anything, the atmosphere grew heavier.

Because everyone understood the truth.

The wound had never been the danger.

The danger was the message behind it.

Wang Chen had injured the Young Master without anyone sensing how.

No warning.

No movement.

No fluctuation.

And that realization sent a chill far colder than any blade straight into their bones.

The eyes of both Dharma Protectors flickered with complex emotions as they studied Wang Chen once more—no longer with disdain, but with unmistakable solemnity.

They had no idea how their Young Master had been injured.

No ripple of qi.

No spatial distortion.

No trace of intent.

It was as if the wound had appeared because the world itself allowed it.

Not just them—even Young Master Yun was shaken to his core.

Though he had shouted in anger a moment ago, the arrogance that once sat proudly on his face had vanished without a trace. In its place was a flicker of dread… and beneath it, something even more dangerous for someone like him—awe.

Others present might have been completely ignorant of what had just happened, but Young Master Yun was not.

A memory surfaced unbidden.

Years ago, he had accompanied his father to the legendary Sword Saint Mountain. Back then, when that peerless existence had casually displayed his might, Young Master Yun had been injured in the exact same manner—silent, unavoidable, and utterly beyond comprehension.

There was no defense against such power.

No reaction.

One would barely feel anything when their blood was spilled.

Same feeling.

Same terror.

The same method…

His pupils shrank.

Just who… is this master of Phoenix and Dragon Dojo…?

A strange light flickered deep within his eyes as realization dawned—slow, crushing, and merciless.

Wang Chen, however, paid no attention to their stunned expressions. To him, this was already over. He was just about to take another step forward—

When something completely unexpected happened.

Bang!

Like a meteor crashing to the ground, Young Master Yun suddenly dropped to his knees.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

He slammed his forehead against the stone tiles without hesitation, the sound echoing loudly across the courtyard.

Dust rose.

Blood seeped.

"Senior," he said hoarsely, his voice stripped of all arrogance, "forgive this ignorant junior."

"I had eyes… but failed to recognize the towering mountain before me."

The world fell silent.

A cold gust of wind blew brushing against patriarch Fang cheeks, his eyes never leaving the Young Master Yun figure kowtowing on the ground, showing no sign of stopping.

The dharma protectors were also stunned, yet if anyone were to look clearly they would notice a look of relief evident flashing expertly hidden, as if they survived a calamity.

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