Wang Yun's eyes narrowed imperceptibly. Maintaining his polite, composed smile, he continued greeting the nearby guests while secretly locking his gaze onto the distant elder. A dangerous glint flashed across his eyes.
Interesting, he thought. This old fox actually dares to threaten the Crimson Clan inside my own ancestral hall.
As the celebration roared on around them, a suffocating tension began to rise quietly in the shadows. Turning slightly to his wife, Wang Yun murmured, "Xinyi, I will be right back."
He stood up from his seat and stepped down into the crowd. Bypassing the laughing sect masters and noble lords, Wang Yun kept his eyes fixed entirely on the old man from the Netherworld Sect. His focus was absolute, his steps deliberate.
Suddenly, a disheveled figure stumbled directly into his path, reeking heavily of spiritual alcohol.
Wang Yun caught himself, nearly stepping backward in shock. "Haaa... Uncle Lu Cheng? It's you."
"Hehehe!" Doctor Lu Cheng laughed boisterously, waving a half-empty gourd in the air. "Look at you! You're all grown up and you even have a child of your own now, huh? Good, good. At least you didn't end up a lonely old fool like me."
"Yes, well, unlike you, I wasn't completely clueless when it came to women," Wang Yun retorted dryly, a faint smile breaking through his serious facade.
"Huh? You brat! It looks like you need a good beating from your elders!" Lu Cheng barked with a laugh, raising a playful fist before his expression softened. He sighed, the drunken fog in his eyes clearing for a brief second. "Ah, enough of these jokes. I can see you've already reached the peak. I'm proud of you, Yun'er... and I'm certain your late mother would be proud of you too."
Taking another heavy swig from his gourd, the doctor stumbled past.
Wang Yun swallowed the lump in his throat. "Enough of the emotional speeches, Uncle. We will speak properly later. I have a matter to attend to."
Watching his uncle wander back toward the wine tables, Wang Yun shook his head, forcing the melancholic thoughts aside. Ever since his mother—Lu Cheng's sister—had passed away, the brilliant doctor had done nothing but drown his sorrows in wine. There would be time to comfort him later. Right now, there was a snake in the grass.
Without another word, Wang Yun resumed his march across the bustling hall. Guests were still exchanging cups of spiritual wine and laughing merrily, completely oblivious to the fact that the Patriarch of the Crimson Clan was closing in on the purple-eyed elder standing near a vermilion pillar.
The old man noticed his approach and smiled faintly, swirling the wine in his gourd. "So, Clan Leader Wang," he said smoothly, "have you finally found a moment for this old man?"
Wang Yun stopped a few paces away, his posture rigid. "I believe you wished to speak with me."
The elder nodded, his mocking smile slowly fading into something far more predatory. His violet eyes locked onto Wang Yun's. "I'll save us both the trouble of pretending, Clan Leader. I know the dark secret you are trying so desperately to hide."
For the first time, Wang Yun's expression stiffened ever so slightly. "I have no idea what you are referring to."
The elder chuckled darkly. "No? Your son's spirit root... it doesn't belong to any known attribute. It is completely unknown. In fact, it's non-existent, isn't it?"
A heavy, suffocating silence settled in the small pocket of space between them.
The elder stepped closer, lowering his voice into a venomous whisper meant for Wang Yun's ears alone. "I overheard your personal servants. So please, don't waste your breath denying it to me."
A freezing, dangerous glint flashed across Wang Yun's eyes. "And if it is true?" he asked, his voice dropping to absolute zero.
The elder's grin returned, wider and more arrogant than before. "Then your grand announcement today was nothing more than a pathetic lie to protect your clan's pride." He leaned in closer. "Imagine how every powerful sect and clan gathered here would react if they learned the truth. The mighty Crimson Clan, giving birth to a useless dud."
Wang Yun's aura fluctuated violently for a fraction of a second before he forced it back under tight control. "What do you want?"
"There it is," the elder laughed softly, thoroughly amused. "Now we are having a proper conversation. I only want one thing, Clan Leader. You will allow my Netherworld Sect to take the child. He will become our disciple, and we will handle him. In return... I will keep this little secret buried in the dirt forever."
"And what if I refuse?" Wang Yun asked.
"Then before this banquet ends, every single person in this hall will know that the Crimson Clan deceived the entire Mamaya Spirit Region," the elder threatened, his smug smile unwavering. "The choice is yours, Clan Leader Wang."
"Huh. So the choice is mine, is it?" Wang Yun shook his head, a look of genuine amusement crossing his face, as if amazed that a mere insect had found the courage to threaten him. Then, he spoke with terrifying calmness. "If I kill you right here, will you still have a mouth left to speak?"
The elder scoffed, entirely unfazed. "Kill me? You wouldn't dare, Leader Wang. You are a 'righteous' man with a reputation to uphold. Furthermore, even if you did manage to kill me, my sect would know instantly. I carry a soul tracking mark. The moment my life slip shatters, the mark will latch onto you, pointing directly to the culprit. You wouldn't want to trigger a war with the Netherworld Sect, especially since you are still just a standard Foundation Establishment cultivator. Your bloodline may be legendary, but your clan has severely declined over the millennia."
Wang Yun looked at him, his eyes darkening into deep, abyssal wells. "You think my clan has declined?"
In an instant, an invisible, monstrous wave of spiritual pressure manifested from Wang Yun's body. It didn't spread to the rest of the hall; it was perfectly, flawlessly compressed into a single, localized strike aimed solely at the elder.
Swoosh—BOOM!
The crushing weight slammed into the elder like a falling mountain. The old man's knees buckled instantly, crashing hard against the polished floorboards. Gasping for air, his face contorted in sheer agony as he struggled desperately just to lift his head.
He can control his spiritual pressure to this profound of a degree?! the elder thought in absolute horror. Wait... this power... it's not standard Foundation Establishment!
"P-Peak Foundation Establishment?!" the elder choked out, his arrogance evaporating into thin air. Fearing for his life, his tone inverted in a split second. "S-Senior! Forgive my ignorance! Senior, please... we can get along! We can negotiate!"
"Oh? Now you want to negotiate?" Wang Yun looked down at him like a god looking at a speck of dust. "Did you really think your sect's Core Formation elders could intimidate me? Did you honestly believe a measly tracking mark would make me hesitate?"
Wang Yun bent down, leaning close enough that his words cut through the elder's soul.
"Listen to me very carefully. If I wished it, I could erase both you and that tracking mark from existence before anyone in this room even realizes you've disappeared."
The elder's face turned deathly pale. His heart hammered wildly against his ribs, and for the first time since entering the Crimson Clan estate, genuine, unadulterated terror filled his eyes.
This man... he's a monster, the elder realized, trembling. He is infinitely more terrifying than the rumors say!
Seeing the lesson had been thoroughly learned, Wang Yun withdrew his spiritual pressure just enough to let the old man breathe.
"Now, you have two choices," Wang Yun commanded coldly. "You may return to your seat and pretend this conversation never happened, or you can take your disciples and leave this domain immediately. Choose."
The old man kept his head pressed tightly against the floor, his voice shaking. "I... I understand, Senior."
Yet, deep within his lowered, shadowed gaze, a venomous, resentful light flickered. Just you wait... the Netherworld Sect will remember today's humiliation.
Satisfied, Wang Yun turned around to proceed back toward the head of the hall. But after taking two steps, he paused, turning his head slightly over his shoulder.
"Oh, before I forget," Wang Yun added, a cold smirk playing on his lips. "The child you think is a useless dud, simply because his spirit root showed no elemental record? It isn't useless. It is the Primordial Spirit Root-the lost, ancient lineage of the Upper Realm."
Without waiting for a response, Wang Yun walked back into the brightly lit center of the hall, leaving the elder freezing in shock.
The... Primordial Spirit Root? the elder thought, his mind going completely blank as a cold sweat broke out across his back. What kind of monstrous, legendary attribute is that?!
Meanwhile, back at the grand table, Wang Yun slipped gracefully back into his seat next to Xinyi. He looked at his beautiful wife and his sleeping son, Wang Fang, the lingering coldness in his eyes melting away into warmth. Lifting his cup to the cheering crowd, he joined his family in celebrating the glorious future of the Crimson Clan