The Council's Greed
The Fourth Elder's jaw dropped in sheer astonishment, his mind racing to process the absolute absurdity of the child's proposal. For a long, suffocating moment, the grand hall remained entirely silent as the council absorbed the gravity of Wang Fang's words.
The First and Third Elders exchanged silent, cautious glances, slowly stroking their long, snow-white beards. They were ancient, calculating men who had survived centuries of volatile clan politics by weighing every variable before making a move.
This child speaks with absolutely no fear, the First Elder thought, his eyes narrowing slightly. Could the Clan Leader be hiding a secret technique? Is this a trap?
Refusing to walk blindly into a snare, they remained quiet, choosing instead to step back and watch the theater unfold.
But the Second and Fourth Elders were utterly blinded by their own greed. They didn't see a trap; they saw a golden, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to permanently rid the clan of the Patriarch's "useless" heir and deal a devastating blow to Wang Yun's prestige.
"Hahaha! Splendid!" The Fourth Elder suddenly burst into a loud, mocking laugh, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight. "A cripple without a single strand of Qi actually thinks he can challenge my son, Wang Zhi? Zhi's talent is monumental! He is already knocking on the door of the Qi Gathering Realm, while you are nothing but a fragile, mortal worm! You will be crushed into paste within a single breath!"
The Second Elder sneered in agreement, leaning aggressively across the stone table. "Indeed! The boy is clearly brainless, driven mad by his own illness. Clan Leader, your son has spoken, and the wager has been cast. If you have any shred of honor left, you will uphold this contract. Unless... you want to openly admit that your lineage is nothing but a parasitic burden to our bloodline?"
"Insolent fools!"
BOOM!
Wang Yun's voice detonated through the chamber like a sudden clap of divine thunder. He stepped forward, and his majestic Core Formation pressure violently slammed onto the shoulders of the Second and Fourth Elders.
The sheer, physical weight of his aura forced their knees to buckle, crashing heavily against the stone floor. The color completely drained from their faces as the air was entirely squeezed from their lungs.
"If you dare insult my son or question my bloodline again in my presence, I will strip you of your titles and banish you to the ancestral mines for the rest of your miserable days!" Wang Yun hissed, his eyes swirling with a cold, dangerous brilliance. "Do not mistake my patience for weakness. I will punish you so severely that your own lineages will forget your names."
Terrified by the raw, suffocating power of a true Core Formation master, the Second and Fourth Elders swallowed hard, nodding frantically in submission. They kept their mouths tightly shut as the meeting was abruptly dismissed. Bruised and humiliated, they quickly scrambled out of the hall alongside the wiser First and Third Elders.
Outside the heavy iron doors, the Fourth Elder's son, Wang Zhi, was waiting impatiently. When his father hurriedly explained the terms of the three-month wager, a look of deep, unadulterated contempt crossed the nine-year-old's face.
Defeat me? With his bare hands? Wang Zhi thought, a cruel, arrogant smirk spreading across his lips. I am already approaching the Qi Gathering Realm. A mere mortal cannot defeat a true cultivator—it is a fundamental law of the heavens. How is he even going to touch me in three months without a single drop of Qi? He is completely underestimating the sky above him.
A Father's Pride
Back inside the empty, quiet hall, Madam Xinyi's maternal restraint finally shattered. Tears spilled freely from her eyes as she rushed forward, scooping her small son into her arms.
"Wang Fang! My precious child!" she wept softly, burying her face in his hair and cradling him tightly against her chest as if she could shield him from the entire world. She didn't care about tournaments, bets, or the grand path of cultivation—she just wanted her boy to be safe and whole.
Wang Yun walked over, his footsteps heavy but deliberate. His massive, warm hand came down gently to rest on Wang Fang's shoulder, pulling both his wife and son into a firm, protective embrace. He didn't know how his son planned to win a fight against a cultivator without Qi, but the pride radiating from the Clan Leader's chest was absolute.
"You stood with an unshakeable will today, Fang," Wang Yun said, his deep voice thick with fatherly emotion. "You did not back down, and you did not let them break your spirit. I am incredibly proud of you, my son. You are a true Wang. No matter what happens in three months, your father stands behind you."
Wang Fang rested his head against his mother's shoulder, absorbing the deep warmth of his parents' unconditional love. Internally, however, his adult mind was already spinning at a frantic pace. He didn't know exactly how he was going to begin his physical training yet, but looking down at his fragile, trembling hands, he knew one thing for certain: he must not fail. He would prove to everyone that he was far more than what they thought.
Rumors in the Mamaya Region
Later that day, the news spread like wildfire across the East, West, North, and South of the vast Mamaya region.
Two shocking rumors dominated every tea house and marketplace: first, that the young master of the Wang Clan was an absolute cripple whose body couldn't hold a single drop of Qi; and second, that this very same "trash" had foolishly set a three-month wager to challenge the Fourth Elder's genius son, Wang Zhi, using nothing but his bare hands.
Deep within the region stood the Heavenly River Sect.
The sect's estate was a magnificent sight to behold. Flanking the main pavilion, four gigantic, spiritual Qi rocks floated serenely in the air, radiating a faint mist. At the front of the grand sect gate, a massive stone bridge spanned across a misty, one-kilometer chasm, connecting the isolated mountain peaks to the mortal villages below. Two colossal humanoid statues, each holding a glowing jade bottle, stood like eternal guardians to the left and right of the gates.
Inside the Sect Leader's private chamber, an oppressive stillness hung in the air.
"Hmm... so it was all a lie."
A powerful figure sat in a grand wooden chair, his back turned to the room as he gazed out over the misty mountain peaks.
"Yes, Sect Leader," an elder replied respectfully, bowing his head from the center of the room.
"What a shame," the figure continued, raising a hand to slowly brush down his long white beard. He turned his chair around, revealing the sharp, piercing eyes of Sect Leader Lin Zheng. "Even if he had just a meager amount of talent, we would have recruited him into our outer sect for the sake of his father's reputation."
"Indeed, Sect Leader," the elder interrupted. "And the latest reports claim that the boy even intends to beat Wang Zhi without utilizing a single shred of Qi."
"Really?" Lin Zheng's eyebrows arched in mild amusement.
"Yes, Sect Leader Lin Zheng," the elder confirmed.
Lin Zheng stood up from his chair, placing both hands behind his back as he walked out into his private chamber garden, looking down at the clouds drifting below the mountain.
"It doesn't matter," Lin Zheng murmured, a faint, intrigued smile playing on his lips. "A mortal attempting to defy a cultivator... let us just watch for now.