Lu Chen hadn't taken more than a few steps before the whispers started.
"Is that Lu Chen?"
"That loser? He's still breathing?"
"Three days ago he was crawling on the ground, half dead. Now look at him—strutting around like nothing happened."
"Shen Qing must've left him some spirit pills. Nothing else explains it."
"A leech who rode his sister's coattails. Now that she's gone, he's nothing. Absolute trash."
"Speaking of which—Shen Qing's been missing for over half a year. You think she's coming back?"
"Doubtful. She's strong, sure, but the Forbidden Zone of Longevity Mountain doesn't care how strong you are. Inner sect elders at the Divine Ability Realm have died in there. And she was only at the Divine Core Realm. Do the math."
"The Sect Master, the Grand Elders—they all went searching. Found nothing. She's dead. Ashes. Otherwise she'd be back by now."
"This guy's got nerve, I'll give him that. If I were him, I'd stay hidden. But here he is, walking around like he owns the place."
"Zhang Shuo's crew is going to hear about this…"
The Azure Sky Sect boasted over a hundred thousand outer disciples. Even with some away on missions or in seclusion, the outer grounds were never empty.
And almost everyone knew Lu Chen.
Shen Qing's Closest Man. That title had followed him like a brand—worn like a crown once, now a noose.
The moment he appeared, heads turned. Mockery. Jealousy. The quiet joy of watching someone fall. Every shade of contempt the outer disciples could muster.
Wooden huts lined the paths in tight clusters. Doors creaked open one after another as disciples leaned out to stare.
"Is that—"
"Lu Chen?!"
"No way. They beat him to death."
Near the edge of the growing crowd, a group of over a dozen disciples went rigid. Their faces twisted—not with recognition, but with greed.
"He must've stashed some high-grade healing pills," sneered a hawk-nosed disciple, his voice low and sharp. "How else would he recover so fast?"
The fat one beside him licked his lips. "Then let's go take them. And if he gives us trouble—" his eyes gleamed with a vicious light, "—we put him back in the dirt."
The remaining seventeen closed in around them. They shoved through the crowd without ceremony.
"Zhang Shuo's lackeys. The same ones who nearly killed him three days ago."
"Zhang Shuo's got family in the inner sect. The Outer Discipline Hall won't touch them unless someone actually dies—and even then, maybe not."
"Ha. Lu Chen's finished."
"Serves him right. Getting close to Shen Qing like that. Should've been dealt with ages ago."
The crowd swelled, disciples jostling for a better view. Nobody moved to intervene. This was entertainment.
The fat disciple stopped a few paces from Lu Chen, the hawk-nosed one—Ye Ying—flanking him. The seventeen fanned out behind them.
"Strong will to live," the fat one said, grinning. "I'll give you that."
Lu Chen looked at them calmly.
He had been about to hunt them down himself. They'd saved him the trouble.
These were the same men who had beaten him to the edge of death and picked his pockets clean. If he was going to start somewhere, this was as good a place as any.
"Hand over your pills," Ye Ying said, his smirk sharp as a blade. "Crawl between my legs. Do that, and maybe I let you walk away."
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
"Ye Ying never changes."
"Lu Chen's got spine, I'll say that. He refused last time too. That's why they almost killed him."
"This time he won't survive if he refuses."
They were already picturing it—Lu Chen on the ground, bloody, broken.
"What is wrong with all of you?"
Lu Chen's voice was quiet. Not angry. Just cold.
"I've never done a thing to any of you. And you come at me like rabid dogs."
His eyes swept the crowd before settling back on Ye Ying.
"Someone put you up to this."
Ye Ying's gaze flickered—just for a moment—before hardening. "Shut your mouth. Kneel. Or I'll shut it for you."
"If you won't tell me," Lu Chen said, "I'll ask Zhang Shuo myself."
"You're dead, Lu Chen!"
Ye Ying exploded forward, crossing ten meters in a heartbeat. His hand curved into a claw, True Yuan surging around his fingers like the talons of a diving bird.
"Mortal-Grade Mid-Grade Martial Skill—Vulture's Talon!"
"Ye Ying's at the seventh level of the Body Forging Realm. Lu Chen's at the fourth. With a martial skill on top of that—it's over."
"Why does Lu Chen look so calm?"
"Scared stiff, probably."
"Die—"
Ye Ying was right in front of him.
Bang.
The crowd blinked.
A figure shot backward through the air—and it wasn't Lu Chen.
Silence.
Then:
"Ye Ying flew back—?!"
"What did Lu Chen do?!"
"Did he—how—"
Nobody had seen it. Nobody could explain it.
"Ye Ying!" The fat disciple's face drained of color. "Check on him!"
Two disciples scrambled toward where Ye Ying had landed. They stopped cold.
"...He's dead."
Dead.
That single word cracked through the crowd like ice splitting underfoot.
"Impossible!" The fat disciple's finger shot out, shaking. "You're fourth-level Body Forging trash! You can't—you cheated! You killed him in broad daylight—the Outer Discipline Hall will—"
"Silence."
Pfft.
Pfft. Pfft. Pfft.
The fat disciple crumpled. Then the ones beside him. Then the ones behind. One by one, they folded—blood spilling from their lips, eyes rolling white, bodies hitting the earth before the sounds even registered.
Nineteen disciples.
Dead in seconds.
Lu Chen hadn't moved.
The silence that followed was absolute.
Then someone screamed.
The crowd lurched backward in a single wave, stumbling over each other, faces white as bone.
"They're all—they're all dead—"
"He didn't even move! How—HOW—"
"Who called me trash?"
Lu Chen's voice was soft. Almost gentle.
"And who was laughing just now?"
Heads dropped. Bodies trembled. Some disciples burst into denials before he'd even finished speaking.
"It wasn't me—Lu Chen, I swear, it wasn't me—"
"Him! It was him! I didn't say a word—"
"Please—"
His gaze swept the crowd. These weren't Zhang Shuo's lackeys—just bystanders who had chosen the wrong words.
"If you can't keep your mouths shut," Lu Chen said, "then don't."
Another wave. Over a hundred disciples collapsed where they stood, blood pouring from their lips.
Not one of them was innocent.
"Monster—" someone choked. "He's a monster—someone tell the Outer Discipline Hall—"
Figures broke from the crowd, sprinting in every direction.
BOOM.
An invisible force crashed down like a collapsing sky, driving every last disciple to their knees.
"The Outer Discipline Hall." Lu Chen almost smiled. "Where were they when I was being beaten into the dirt?"
The runners froze mid-stride. A breath later, they were gone—crushed flat without a sound.
"Watch your words," Lu Chen said quietly. "They can kill you."
The pressure lifted.
He turned and walked away without looking back.
Behind him, a thousand disciples knelt in the dirt, drenched in cold sweat, lungs heaving. Some were weeping. Most couldn't speak.
Slowly—carefully—they raised their heads.
Lu Chen's retreating silhouette seemed to fill the entire sky.
What kind of cultivation... is that?