In the night, Chen Jiashang’s hoarse, piercing voice dripped with resentment.

“At thirteen, I mastered my stance technique and entered the Blood Energy Barrier.”

“I prepared three whole years for this apprentice trial!”

“Why… why did I lose to you?”

“I was so close to the ninth-grade trial—just a hair’s breadth away!”

His bloodshot eyes bulged with defiance. “My poisoning was flawless, but Lu Qi, that useless fool, was too weak. I gave him just enough Five Ores Powder to keep him alive. Otherwise, how could a mutt like you stand here, ninth grade achieved?”

“It’s all because of that useless Lu Qi! He ruined my plan, ruined everything!”

His venomous gaze locked on Xiangzi. “How’d you know about fingerprints? To push me this far…”

Xiangzi’s lips curled into a wry smile. “Fingerprints? You think those coins, touched by countless hands, could really yield prints? I was just bluffing. Didn’t expect a dimwit like you to jump out and save me the trouble.”

His words struck like thunder, shattering Chen Jiashang’s mind. Fake? The fingerprint test was a ruse? His body trembled like a leaf, face pale as paper, lips quivering. “No… impossible! You’re lying! You venomous snake!”

“You… you destroyed everything!” His scream tore through the silent night.

—

Xiangzi’s brow furrowed. He didn’t know the root of Chen’s towering resentment, but it didn’t matter. Slapping his bundle, two cold short spears slid out, snapping into a long spear. The familiar chill surged through him.

His dantian’s red bead flared, and dust exploded beneath his feet. Intent, qi, force—aligned!

Before anyone could track him, Xiangzi’s form blurred into an afterimage, a sharp crack splitting the air.

Bathed in fading golden light, the spear’s tip pierced the thick night, a barely visible streak of cold.

—

So swift was Xiangzi that even the ninth-grade peak round-faced Wind Justice disciple couldn’t stop him. “Don’t!” the disciple shouted, chasing, stunned—how can my peak blood energy not catch this guy?

Xiangzi, deaf to the cry, swung his spear like a dragon. Amid its hum, a flurry of spear blossoms danced in the dark. Uncle Jie’s Five Tigers Gate-Breaking Spear was etched into his bones. Though unused for over a month, the Fierce Tiger Rends Mountain move flowed effortlessly.

The spear pressed down, sweeping forward, crashing toward Chen Jiashang. The heavy momentum loomed like a mountain. Chen sneered. “Let’s see how much a mud-leg like you’s got at ninth grade!”

Two sinister meridian mandarin duck axes appeared in his hands. Jiang Wangshui froze, recalling Chen’s boasted technique, shouting, “Brother Xiang, watch his spear-disarming move!”

The axes, symmetrical and versatile, excelled at locking long weapons in close combat, countering a spear’s block, seize, thrust. But Chen faced Xiangzi’s spear.

Chen’s footwork was deft, darting to the spear’s midsection, axes hooking it, wrist twisting. Instead of breaking force with finesse, a surge of power flooded through the spear. With a shake, both axes flew from Chen’s hands.

Weaponless, Chen’s eyes widened in shock. Before he could react, the spear swept his chest with a crack. The near-ninth-grade martial artist, with minor success in skin and muscle, was hurled back.

In a flash, Xiangzi’s cold spear tip rested at Chen’s neck. Blood trickled from Chen’s mouth, broken ribs stealing his breath. Yet he stared, uncomprehending, at the humming spear. Ten years of toil… how couldn’t I block one strike?

As the golden flare dimmed, Chen’s pride shattered with it, his face ashen.

—

“Who ordered you?” Xiangzi asked calmly. “You couldn’t access Five Ores Powder. And you didn’t kill Lu Qi. Who’s your contact in the hall? Why target me? What are you all planning?”

His questions snapped Chen from his daze, his eyes trembling with shock. How does he know? Then he laughed, a broken, grating sound from his shattered chest. “You want to know? You’re nothing—you don’t deserve to know!”

“You won’t kill me. A mere ninth-grade martial artist? With the secrets I hold, you wouldn’t dare!”

His hair wild, eyes red, Chen’s laughter was manic.

Xiangzi raised a brow, shrugging. Stubborn duck. His wrist twitched, the spear tip inching toward Chen’s neck.

Chen’s pupils shrank to pinpoints, his face draining. “No, I’ll talk—”

Too late. Xiangzi had no patience for games.

But then, a shift. A burly figure burst from the dark, a large hand seizing the spear. Wan Yuxuan emerged. Xiangzi sighed, saying to the limp Chen, “Lucky, little fatty.”

A thin bloodline marked Chen’s neck—half an inch more, and his throat would’ve been cut. Chen’s throat rasped, his manic eyes now pure terror, sweat soaking his gray robe, chilling his back.

—

Wan Yuxuan waved, tossing Chen to the round-faced disciple. “Xiao Shuanzi, tie him up, take him back.”

He raised a brow at Xiangzi, chuckling. “Didn’t peg you for a killer. Not your first time, huh?”

Xiangzi shrugged, smiling noncommittally, stepping back. With the culprit caught, the rest wasn’t his concern.

“Li Xiang, you worthless mutt! So what if you caught me? Can you kill me?” Chen, hands bound, face purple, roared. “Just wait. Once I spill those secrets, the hall will value me more. A mud-leg like you will never rise!”

Then, fawning, he bowed despite his broken ribs, staring at Wan Yuxuan. “Senior Brother, I know you—Wind Justice’s Wan. I have intel, valuable intel, about a big event at Great Green Ridge in six months. Someone’s targeting Baolin Hall—it’ll be chaos! I’m with an organization, and my ally here is high-ranking.”

His eyes darted, a stage jester currying favor. “Senior Brother, your cultivation’s high—you can protect me. If Wind Justice takes me in, I’ll help you solve that crisis!”

Wan Yuxuan stared coldly, disgust in his eyes, but waved for the round-faced disciple to release Chen. Seeing this, Chen’s heart leapt. Wind Justice means a comeback. With those secrets, I’ll gain Baolin’s trust—maybe even catch the foreign district’s big shots’ eyes!

But his smile froze. A red strip flashed before him—the same red from the black-robed disciple’s fingers in the first-class courtyard. Chen turned, seeing an unremarkable round face, now stern with lethal intent.

The red strip swayed in the thick night. With a fierce gust, the round-faced disciple’s hand slashed like a blade toward Chen’s neck. “Chen Jiashang, you betrayed the organization. I, Zhang Xiaoshuan, will execute you!”

The hand fell, a faint crack like breaking ice ringing out. Chen’s neck snapped, his head dangling by a thin layer of skin, swaying before his chest.

His lifeless eyes held a flicker of fear and confusion.