Wang Chen did not immediately bother checking the contents of the storage ring. Even so, the faint waves of energy leaking from it were enough to make his heartbeat accelerate slightly. The ring itself was already a rare treasure; whatever lay inside was undoubtedly worth far more.

After a brief glance, he turned to Rong Luo, then shifted his gaze toward the Fang sisters. A subtle, meaningful tension hung in the air.

"I will ignore this man's past mistakes," Wang Chen said calmly. "I will also not interfere in your internal family affairs. How you deal with him from this point on is your choice. I will not intervene."

"This…!" Fang Biyu's expression trembled. Her face drained of color as she looked from Wang Chen to Patriarch Fang floating in the sky. Her lips parted, but no words came out.

Wang Chen paid the sisters no further attention.

Before leaving, his gaze briefly rested on Li Mei. There was no need for words. The faint approval in his eyes was more than enough to tell her that he had noticed her progress—and was satisfied.

Then he turned and walked back toward his courtyard, leaving behind a stunned crowd frozen between fear, uncertainty, and disbelief.

Just as Wang Chen took another step forward, the world seemed to lose all color.

Sound dulled. Light dimmed.

In the next instant, Wang Chen appeared behind Patriarch Fang like a ghost, silent and unavoidable. Above the old cultivator's head, a faint phantom manifested—an ancient, invisible clock, its presence oppressive enough to make one's soul shudder.

Patriarch Fang's body stiffened.

Of course, Wang Chen had never intended to let him walk away unscathed.

Borrowing another's blade, hiding behind stronger forces, scheming while pretending righteousness—Wang Chen understood such people all too well. Leaving someone like that alive and untouched was simply inviting future trouble.

So what if he was the father of his so-called "pupil"?

Cause and effect never missed its mark.

And when judgment arrived, it never asked whether you were ready to pay.

In the next instant, the world returned to normal.

Color flowed back into the air as if nothing had ever happened. Sound resumed. Breath returned. To everyone else present, the momentary distortion might as well have never existed.

No one noticed the phantom clock.

Not a single person sensed the invisible weight now hanging above Patriarch Fang's fate.

After hearing Wang Chen's words, Patriarch Fang's expression slackened into something resembling devastation—like a man humiliated to the core, ashamed beyond measure. Yet beneath that outer shell, relief surged through him like a flood breaking a dam.

He lived.

That was all that mattered.

If Wang Chen truly wanted him dead, there would have been no begging, no bargaining, no kneeling. Death would have come silently, decisively, without even a scream. Compared to that, this outcome was mercy.

Even Young Master Yun had been willing to kneel and sweep floors just to survive. Patriarch Fang knew his own worth all too well. Pride was meaningless in the face of annihilation.

Thankfully… his fate was no longer in Wang Chen's hands.

With that comforting thought, Patriarch Fang turned his gaze toward Fang Biyu and Fang Zhirou. His eyes softened, relief plainly visible, as if he were already imagining forgiveness.

After all, they were his daughters.

He had brought them into this world. Raised them. Fed them. Sheltered them beneath the Fang family roof, sparing no expense so they could grow up without hardship.

A father's kind could not be repaid with hatred… right?

Surely, Fang Biyu would not truly resent him.

Surely, she would not raise her hand against her own father.

Meanwhile, Young Master Yun's gaze shifted as well—from the sisters back to Patriarch Fang. A flicker of complicated emotion passed through his eyes, calculation buried beneath caution.

Whatever designs he had once harbored toward the Fang sisters were now meaningless.

This was no longer a situation he could control.

After witnessing Wang Chen's decisiveness, his cold indifference, and that terrifying, unseen method of attack, Young Master Yun understood one thing with absolute clarity:

Showing sincerity might save his life—but it would not end this matter.

And if Wang Chen decided otherwise…

There would be no second chance to kneel.

As these thoughts churned in his mind, Young Master Yun's gaze instinctively drifted toward Rong Luo.

The man stood before Wang Chen's disciples like an unmovable wall, posture straight, aura restrained yet lethal. He did not shout, nor did he posture, but the quiet authority radiating from him sent a chill straight through Young Master Yun's spine.

Then it struck him.

A name thundered through his mind.

"Rong Luo… the Genius of the Thousand Sword Sect."

Young Master Yun's breath nearly hitched.

As an heir of the Yun family, it was his responsibility to memorize every rising talent of the Soaring Dragon Continent. Not just their names, but their temperaments, strengths, weaknesses, and rumored limits.

And Rong Luo was impossible to forget.

Arrogant. Sharp. Domineering.

A man who once cut down challengers without even drawing his full blade. A genius who walked with his chin raised, daring the heavens themselves to test him.

And now?

That same man stood here like a loyal hound, shielding Wang Chen's disciples without complaint, without resentment, without even a flicker of hesitation.

Young Master Yun felt a bitter cold spread through his chest.

In Rong Luo's figure, he saw a distorted reflection of his own future.

Rong Luo clearly sensed Young Master Yun's gaze—but he did not acknowledge it. To him, the thoughts of a pampered young master were less important than the task placed before him.

He turned slightly, his tone steady and respectful.

"Lady Biyu. Lady Zhirou."

His voice carried no coercion, no hidden pressure.

"How would you like to deal with this matter?"

The words were simple, yet their meaning was heavy.

Rong Luo remembered Wang Chen's instruction clearly. Though it had not been spoken outright, the intent was unmistakable: the decision must be theirs alone. No fear. No coercion. No interference.

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