"Ok… that is quite unexpected…"

Even if Wang Chen had all the time to think inside the Tower of Infinite Enlightenment, he had never imagined a scene like this.

An arrogant-to-the-bone young master—someone who moments ago looked down on everyone as if the world existed solely for his convenience—was now kneeling on the ground, kowtowing and begging forgiveness.

If someone told him the sun had risen from the west today, Wang Chen would have believed that faster than this.

It took him a brief moment to process reality.

Young Master Yun was kneeling.

Not just kneeling—begging.

And his two Dharma Protectors were no different. The moment their master dropped to his knees, they followed without hesitation. How could they dare remain standing? If word spread that Young Master Yun had been kowtowing while they stood tall like pillars, the Yun Family Patriarch would personally chop their heads off and feed them to the dogs.

"Just… what happened…?"

Fang Biyu's mouth hung open wide enough to swallow an ostrich egg whole. Her mind felt completely blank.

One moment, this man had been her nightmare—the one threatening her future, her freedom, even her family.

The next moment, he was kneeling in front of the man she had trusted enough to run toward.

The world felt unreal.

And she wasn't alone.

Lin Huang and Li Mei stared in stunned disbelief, their expressions frozen as if time itself had stopped. Zhao Yunfei's lips parted slightly, her usually composed demeanor shattered as she watched the scene unfold with crystal clarity.

No one understood.

No one could.

Except one man.

Patriarch Fang stood rigid, his mind roaring like a collapsing mountain. The pillar he had relied upon to crush Wang Chen… had folded instead.

Fear—raw and suffocating—crawled up his spine.

Instinct screamed at him to flee.

He had just taken a single step backward—

When a gaze sharp as a drawn sword landed squarely on his body.

Patriarch Fang froze.

Cold sweat soaked through his robes as the realization finally struck.

He had made a mistake.

A fatal one.

"Take one more step and prepare to face the consequences."

Rong Luo's voice was low and restrained, yet to Patriarch Fang it thundered like a heavenly verdict. The qi in his meridians instantly went berserk, surging chaotically as if trying to tear free from his control.

Patriarch Fang froze in place.

Cold sweat soaked through his robes.

The events of today had already surpassed Rong Luo's wildest imagination. Although he couldn't be completely certain, something deep in his bones told him this old fox was the root of everything that had gone wrong.

There was no way he would allow him to leave.

Not until Wang Chen spoke.

…

Thud!

The dull sound of flesh striking stone echoed rhythmically across the courtyard.

Once.

Twice.

Again.

Young Master Yun's once-luxurious robes were torn and dirtied, stained with blood and dust. Bruises bloomed across his forehead, purple and red overlapping one another. The ground before him was cracked and pitted, as if repeatedly hammered by brute force.

"Why… why is Master not responding…?"

Young Master Yun's heart sank deeper with every unanswered breath. Cold sweat streamed down his spine as he stared at Wang Chen's calm, unreadable face.

No anger.

No disdain.

No reaction at all.

To someone like him, this silence was far more terrifying than rage. It was a death sentence.

His thoughts raced frantically, replaying every word he had spoken, every action he had taken since arriving at the Phoenix and Dragon Dojo.

For existences like this… words were cheap.

Only actions mattered.

Once offended, forgiveness was never guaranteed.

Realizing this, Young Master Yun gritted his teeth and decisively changed his approach before his situation worsened any further.

"Respected Master," he said hurriedly, his voice trembling despite his effort to stay composed. "I know my sins cannot be easily forgiven. I am willing to repent… to atone for my mistakes."

He slammed his forehead into the ground once more.

"I am willing to sweep the floors of Phoenix and Dragon Dojo for a hundred years. I will serve without complaint. Please… grant this ignorant junior a chance."

Silence.

A suffocating, oppressive silence descended upon the courtyard, heavy enough to make it difficult to breathe.

No one dared to move.

No one dared to speak.

All eyes were fixed on Wang Chen.

Waiting.

For a single word.

The suffocating silence was finally shattered by shrill, panicked cries.

"Young Master, don't be rash!"

The two Dharma Protectors turned deathly pale. All the dignity and composure befitting peak Deity Transformation experts evaporated like mist under the sun.

If word spread to the Soaring Dragon Continent that the Young Master of the Yun family was sweeping floors in some nameless backwater dojo, death would be the least of their concerns. The Yun family's wrath would not spare even their souls.

Yet Young Master Yun acted as if he hadn't heard them at all.

His forehead remained pressed to the ground, his posture unwavering, his expression resolute. There was no hesitation in his eyes, only grim determination.

To outsiders, it looked like humiliation.

But inside his mind, calculations ran at terrifying speed.

Given how our first meeting went, this master will never accept me as a disciple, he reasoned coldly. But becoming a sweeper… that keeps me close.

Close enough to observe. Close enough to earn trust.

And most importantly… close enough to survive.

Not only would this improve his image in Wang Chen's eyes, it would also buy him time. With this master standing here, Fang Biyu was already out of his reach. No amount of force or backing would change that.

This was the best possible outcome.

The only possible outcome.

Wang Chen nearly fell flat on his face.

"Willing to be a sweeper for the Phoenix and Dragon Dojo… for a hundred years… huh."

He stared at the kneeling figure as if he were looking at an alien creature.

For a moment, he was genuinely speechless.

What kind of brain circuit leads to this conclusion?

Why should I allow you to sweep the floors of my dojo?

A dual-faced young master, dripping with schemes, kneeling with fake sincerity plastered all over his face?

No.

Absolutely not.

Wang Chen's eyes grew cold.

He had no intention of letting such a poisonous snake slither any closer—let alone into his home.

Just as Wang Chen was lost in thought, habit kicked in.

He activated Fortune Vision.

Young Master Yun didn't look much older than Lin Huang, yet he had already stepped into the Nascent Soul Realm. By all logic, his fortune should have been vast and blazing.

That was what Wang Chen expected.

The moment Fortune Vision unfolded, however, the world in his perception twisted violently.

A dark, oppressive aura wrapped around Young Master Yun like a shroud of death. It wasn't smooth or uniform. It writhed.

Thousands upon thousands of tiny, shadowy insects crawled over his fate, gnawing, burrowing, clustering together in grotesque swarms. Some seeped out from his eyes. Others squirmed from his nose and mouth. Still more emerged from his shadow, clinging to his destiny like parasites.

Yet the man himself felt nothing.

He smiled. He breathed. He knelt.

As if unaware that his fate was already rotting.

Then, as if sensing Wang Chen's gaze, the swarming insects suddenly froze.

One by one, they turned their heads.

And looked straight at him.

Hiss!

Wang Chen sucked in a sharp breath of cold air.

A single phrase surfaced in his mind.

Aura of Calamity.

There was no doubt about it.

Young Master Yun had already burned through nearly all of his fortune. Meeting Wang Chen today, kneeling before him, nearly dying just moments ago—this was not coincidence.

This was fate collecting its debt.

Death had been inevitable.

Yet somehow, impossibly, he had survived.

In just a breath of time, Wang Chen understood everything that mattered.

The irritation he felt moments ago—the urge to kick this Yun brat out of his sight—vanished completely.

In its place rose something colder.

Sharper.

More surgical.

Suddenly, in Wang Chen's mind, Young Master Yun's value skyrocketed.

In terms of usefulness, he now ranked almost on the same level as Zhao Yunfei.

Originally, Wang Chen had planned to research a method to refine fortune itself, to extract and amplify providence for his own survival. The idea had stalled, progress nonexistent, and he had shelved it for later.

But now—

A walking calamity.

A living container of negative providence.

Someone whose fate attracted disaster like a magnet.

Perhaps…

Perhaps this could be the missing piece.

Wang Chen's gaze deepened, no longer hostile, no longer dismissive.

Instead, it became calculating.

Very calculating.

After weighing everything in silence, Wang Chen turned his gaze back to the kneeling Young Master Yun.

This time, his eyes were no longer cold.

They were simply plain.

That change alone sent a chill deeper than any killing intent ever could.

Young Master Yun noticed it instantly. His heart thudded violently, then surged with desperate hope. His face lit up as if he had seen salvation itself. Without hesitation, he hurriedly rose and bowed again and again, his movements exaggerated, almost frantic.

"Senior truly possesses a magnanimous heart," he said earnestly, his voice trembling with gratitude. "To forgive trash like me… such virtue is rare even among the heavens."

The words poured out smoothly. Too smoothly.

Before anyone could react, he flicked his wrist. A worn wooden broom appeared in his hand, plain and unremarkable. Without the slightest hesitation, he lowered his head and immediately began sweeping the ground, movements swift and diligent, as if afraid that even a single heartbeat of delay might anger Wang Chen again.

Dust scattered. The broom scraped softly against stone.

The scene was surreal.

Just then, Wang Chen spoke casually, as if remembering something trivial.

"Wait for a moment."

Those four words hit Young Master Yun harder than a divine strike.

His heart plunged straight to the bottom of an abyss.

The broom slipped slightly in his grip. Cold sweat instantly soaked his back. Slowly—mechanically—he turned around, his movements stiff, his smile frozen halfway.

Wang Chen raised a finger and pointed—not at him, but at the storage ring on his hand.

In that instant, Young Master Yun felt as if his soul had been stabbed.

His heart let out a silent, agonized scream.

That ring contained everything—life-saving treasures, emergency talismans, ancestral gifts, fortunes painstakingly accumulated over decades. Giving it away was no different from cutting flesh off his own body.

Yet he didn't hesitate.

Grinding his teeth until they nearly cracked, Young Master Yun stepped forward and presented the storage ring with both hands, his posture respectful to the extreme.

"Please… accept this, Senior."

The words tasted like blood.

But he swallowed them anyway.

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