The middle-aged martial artist from the miscellaneous courtyard stared at the tiny particles on the floor. Ignoring the grime, he dropped to his knees, rubbing them between his fingers.

His mind buzzed as he collapsed. “This… this is really Five Ores Powder!”

“No… no way! I checked all the powders myself. Master Liu specifically warned me—how could I dare mess this up?” His voice trembled. “This is mineral medicine—rare even in the Hundred Herbs Courtyard!”

His lips quivered, his face drained of color.

Zhao Mu’s expression was icy, his teeth gritted as he snarled, “Hmph! In our martial hall, someone dared to poison a candidate for the ninth-grade trial with such vicious mineral medicine! If this lad weren’t so resilient, he’d have had his skin torn and muscles snapped in that tub!”

The words struck the middle-aged martial artist like thunder, nearly shattering his spirit.

He shot to his feet, voice shaking. “It’s Lu Qi! That little bastard—he’s the only one who got close to the tub!”

Xiangzi’s eyes sharpened. Lu Qi, the one who went mad? Why would he try to harm me?

Zhao Mu’s voice was cold. “Inform the Wind Justice Courtyard. Search Lu Qi’s quarters!”

—

Under the night sky, Baolin Martial Hall blazed with torches. Martial artists with gold-embroidered banners on their chests, leading groups of young disciples, sealed off the apprentice courtyard.

Jiang Wangshui and Xu Xiaoliu gaped. Xiangzi’s still in the medicinal bath—what’s all this?

Before they could process, a stern black-robed disciple approached. “Do you know Lu Qi?”

Xu Xiaoliu nodded, only to see the disciple flash a jade plaque engraved with “Wind Justice” and say gravely, “Come with me to the Wind Justice Courtyard!”

—

Scenes like this unfolded not just in the apprentice courtyard but across the third-class, second-class, and even first-class courtyards. Disciples bearing “Wind Justice” plaques stormed in, hauling away anyone close to the miscellaneous courtyard seniors or Lu Qi.

Before the “Wind Justice” plaque, none dared resist.

A terrifying aura of iron and blood spread through the thick night.

No interrogations—just confinement in the eerie courtyard behind the Wind Justice Courtyard for anyone linked to the incident. Back when the Dashun Dynasty’s dragon banners still flew, Lord Xuanzhi, who later burned the imperial palace, had made a grim jest under the golden plaque: Before three gold-threaded banners, a king need not bow, but a prince might. Exaggerated, perhaps, but coming from the lips of the supreme ruler, it carried weight.

Such was the might of the three great martial halls, unbroken for centuries.

The old hall master in Forty-Nine City was usually jovial, quick to downplay disputes. But tonight, with him away in Shen City, the Wind Justice Courtyard’s swift, ruthless response carried a different edge—a glimpse of the ferocious tenacity Baolin Martial Hall had forged through centuries of blood and storm.

Even Master Liu, hearing the news, paused. Someone using Five Ores Powder to harm a disciple was a grave matter, but the Wind Justice Courtyard’s reaction seemed excessive.

As the miscellaneous courtyard’s head and the chief examiner for this apprentice trial, Master Liu could say little. I picked this talent myself, but the poisoner came from my courtyard. With the old hall master gone, Baolin Martial Hall was a churning undercurrent.

—

Under a sparse moon, faint footsteps echoed through the martial hall. The apprentice courtyard was under lockdown—no one could enter or leave.

In the first-class courtyard, Xiangzi gently pushed open his window, gazing at the crescent moon in the inky night, his thoughts adrift.

Lu Qi tried to harm me? He couldn’t fathom what motive the pale-faced boy had. They’d barely spoken.

Was there a larger plot, or mere coincidence? Xiangzi didn’t know. But one thing was clear: Five Ores Powder, refined from precious vein ores, wasn’t something Lu Qi could obtain alone.

“Stop overthinking. Rest well—tomorrow’s the ninth-grade trial!” Zhao Mu emerged from the shadows, his voice cold, fatigue etched on his face from the night’s bizarre events. “The Wind Justice Courtyard sent word. They found the rest of the Five Ores Powder and sixty silver dollars in Lu Qi’s room. He likely carried the powder, got tainted by it, and lost his mind.”

Xiangzi nodded. The evidence seemed airtight.

But he didn’t dwell on it. Having weathered the storms of the rickshaw yard, his focus was solely on surviving tomorrow’s Bone-Strengthening Broth. As Uncle Jie once said: In this world, all you need is a pair of fists.

Once he reached the ninth grade, what were petty schemes or hidden arrows? Xiangzi gave a faint smile and clasped his fists toward Zhao Mu. “Thank you, Master Zhao.”

Zhao Mu’s face remained impassive, but inwardly he nodded. This lad’s brute strength is matched by real composure.

—

At dawn’s light, Xiangzi stepped out of his room and froze. A crowd of first-class courtyard peers stood outside, even the chubby Chen Jiashang among them, beaming warmly.

Qi Ruiyang, leading the group, clasped his fists with a smile. “We got Master Zhao’s permission to see you off, Brother Li.”

“Sounds a bit ominous,” Xiangzi teased, a grin tugging at his lips.

“Ominous? Not at all! Once you leave this courtyard, you’ll be a ninth-grade martial artist,” Qi Ruiyang said, his smile unwavering. “Isn’t that a send-off? Next time we meet, it’ll be in the outer sect.”

Xiangzi returned the gesture. “Then I’ll be waiting for you all in the outer sect!”

“Brother Li’s boldness puts me to shame,” Qi Ruiyang said, stepping aside to clear a path.

The crowd parted like a tide, and Xiangzi strode forward confidently.

Watching his departing figure, the apprentices felt a mix of emotions. Last night’s events had spread through the courtyard. Most, being scions of great families, knew what Five Ores Powder was—a potent mineral-derived powder, too dangerous for Blood Energy Barrier apprentices and even approached cautiously by ninth-grade peak martial artists aiming for the eighth-grade Muscle-Strengthening Realm. A single misstep could lead to “mineral miasma,” turning one into a soulless husk.

Yet Xiangzi had endured its power while refining the Marrow-Washing Pill? Is he a human-shaped demon beast, a natural tonic prodigy?

That aside, they’d seen his calm mastery of medicinal power over the past month, so they weren’t entirely shocked. But his demeanor now—facing a poisoning attempt yet remaining as composed as ever—humbled even the proudest among them.

They’d all trained since childhood, each yearning for the ninth-grade chance. But faced with the Bone-Strengthening Broth, how many could match Xiangzi’s serene confidence?