Following Elder Lu’s instructions, Han Yu returned to his quarters to cultivate.

The three crows, led by the large one, now bore Spirit Beast Tags that granted them unrestricted access to the main peak. However, once Han Yu settled into his meditative trance, the birds grew restless. Bored with the stillness, they took flight, leaving the main peak to rejoin their flock in the wild.

Han Yu sat alone, gripping the Thousand-Year Sunkwood Heart in his palm. He swallowed three drops of Ancestral Tree Spirit Liquid and began cycling the Green Grain Qi Cultivation Method. Under the potent effects of the resources, his Spirit Breath surged, rapidly hitting the daily limit for improvement.

He didn’t stop there. He replicated two drops of essence blood to complete his daily regimen for the Blood Refining Technique.

Next came the Thousand Illusions Secret Art.

As night fell, Han Yu stepped into the courtyard. Under the vast canopy of the night sky, he began to practice the Star Luo Traction Technique.

When his session concluded, he gazed up at the heavens. The stars that shone with unusual brilliance were the same ones he had noticed the previous night.

Han Yu studied them closely. There were seven bright stars in total—three clustered in the center, flanked by four solitary stars at the cardinal points. He etched their positions into his memory.

The next morning, the three crows returned to Han Yu’s door.

After a few moments of affectionate preening and greeting, Han Yu signaled them to follow. It was time to head to the Battle Hall.

As he stepped out, the old servant, Shang Lu, shuffled forward. “Immortal Master Han, do you require your room to be tidied today?”

“No need,” Han Yu replied simply.

The old servant acknowledged the order, but he didn’t leave. He stood there, his lips trembling, looking as if he wanted to speak but was physically unable to get the words out.

Han Yu paused, glancing at him. “Is there something else?”

“Immortal Master Han… be careful on your way,” Shang Lu whispered, his voice barely audible.

Han Yu’s brow furrowed instantly. “Why do you say that?”

The old servant couldn’t answer. His face twisted into a mask of struggle and sheer terror, sweat beading on his forehead.

Seeing such a bizarre reaction, Han Yu didn’t take another step toward the gate. He immediately spun around and walked briskly to Elder Lu’s quarters.

“Master,” Han Yu called out as he entered. “Something is wrong. The servant Shang Lu is acting strangely…”

“Go about your business. I already know,” Elder Lu’s voice came from inside, calm and steady.

“Shang Lu has been placed under a restriction by someone. His life is hanging by a thread. That he managed to squeeze out a warning for you demonstrates commendable loyalty.”

Seeing that his Master was already prepared, Han Yu relaxed slightly. Still, he didn’t lower his guard. He mentally prepped his Foundation Establishment realm Talisman and beckoned the three crows to stay close as he headed for the Battle Hall.

He had barely taken a dozen steps from the courtyard when a sickly, sweet fragrance drifted through the air.

Before Han Yu could even identify the scent, the atmosphere around him seemed to freeze. The air turned heavy, congealing like invisible gelatin.

Hmph.

A cold snort echoed from above. Instantly, the strange fragrance vanished, and the pressure lifted, returning the world to normal.

Han Yu looked up to see Elder Yan emerging from around the corner, flying atop a black vine staff. The Elder glanced at Han Yu and gave a curt nod. Trailing behind the staff, wrapped tightly in a cocoon of Magic Power, was the unconscious body of Wan Xianglin.

Han Yu’s eyes widened. He hurriedly bowed in salute.

So, Deacon Wan—the man who had just returned from the outside world—really was a problem.

However, the traitor had made a fatal calculation. He had targeted the wrong person.

Han Yu was currently the sect’s most protected asset. The slightest anomaly around him triggered immediate alarms. Wan Xianglin, having been away, was oblivious to the internal politics and the true extent of Han Yu’s value.

He had tried to play clever tricks right under the noses of two Golden Core cultivators and three Elders, likely assuming Wanchun Valley was as lax as usual.

As for what Wan had done to Shang Lu, or what that sweet fragrance was intended to do, Han Yu didn’t know. Nor did he need to.

His Master and the Sect Leader would handle the cleanup.

Han Yu arrived at the Battle Hall without further incident.

Dozens of disciples, both Inner and Outer, were already gathered. For the past two days, Elder Lu had been present, and everyone had treated Han Yu with enthusiastic politeness.

Today, with no Elder watching over them, the veneer of civility began to crack.

The Outer Disciples were generally accepting; they recognized Han Yu as the undisputed number one among them. The Inner Disciples were mostly indifferent—even if they doubted his qualifications, they weren’t hostile.

But two individuals made no effort to hide their disdain.

One was Ye Shinian, a Qi Refining ninth layer cultivator and personal disciple of Sect Leader Qi.

The other was Chen Pei, an Inner Disciple at the sixth layer of Qi Refining, studying under Deacon Fang.

Han Yu swept his gaze over the crowd. He wasn’t planning on being polite to those who refused to show respect.

His cultivation techniques were now officially registered with the sect. There were no more secrets to hide. Even if he didn’t reveal his full power, suppressing a few unruly disciples would establish the authority he needed to teach effectively.

If he crushed the two loudest dissenters, his job as an instructor would become significantly easier.

“Senior Brother Chen, long time no see,” Han Yu said, singling out Chen Pei. “I didn’t expect to see you at the Battle Hall.”

Chen Pei sneered. “And I didn’t expect the sect to send you as an instructor.”

“It’s been less than three years since I guided you through the gates of Wanchun Valley,” Chen Pei continued, his voice dripping with skepticism. “Now you have some fame, and people say you’re amazing… but I don’t buy it. Just how impressive can you really be?”

This Senior Brother Chen was the very same green-robed disciple who had processed Han Yu and Old Daoist Li’s entry into the sect. Since then, he had broken through to the sixth layer and entered the Inner Sect under Deacon Fang—a clear sign of talent, as he was part of an exceptional batch.

Han Yu smiled faintly. “I still have to thank Senior Brother Chen for leading the way back then.”

Chen Pei tilted his chin up. “No need. I earned Minor Merit for it. It was a transaction.”

“So, Senior Brother Chen is dissatisfied with me being an instructor?”

“That’s right.”

“Then shall we spar? A practical demonstration.”

Chen Pei nodded immediately, stepping forward. “Exactly what I wanted! Let’s see just how skilled you really are!”

Han Yu’s mind worked quickly. If I have to instruct these seniors individually, it will be a headache. But if I just fight them one by one while the others watch… that is simple.

He made up his mind. This would be his teaching style from now on.

Arrive. Fight. Leave.

Han Yu raised his hand, signaling all the disciples in the Battle Hall to gather around. “Listen up! Today’s lesson will be a live demonstration of combat techniques.”

Hearing that Chen Pei was about to fight, Ye Shinian, the Sect Leader’s disciple, scoffed. “Why waste time with Chen Pei? Let me try you!”

Han Yu glanced at him, his expression calm. “No rush. One at a time.”

He pointed at Chen Pei, then at Ye Shinian.

“I’ll beat him, then I’ll beat you.”

Chen Pei bristled, his face flushing red. “What do you mean ‘beat me’? You think you can win?”

Ye Shinian was equally furious. “Han Yu! You’re young, but you certainly know how to court anger! You think you can defeat me?”

Han Yu ignored their outbursts. He addressed the crowd. “I have been here for fifteen minutes. The instruction period lasts another hour and forty-five minutes.”

“Is there anyone else who wishes to spar?”

“If so, speak now. I will fight you all in sequence.”

“If not, I will spar with Senior Brother Chen and Senior Brother Ye. Watch closely. If you have questions, ask them afterward.”

Prompted by his challenge, two more disciples raised their hands. They weren’t necessarily hostile, but the disciples of the Battle Hall were combat junkies. The chance to test themselves against the rising star Han Yu was too tempting to resist.

Han Yu nodded. “Accepted.”

He gestured for the crowd to clear a space. He stood opposite Chen Pei and nodded to Tian Ziyue, his sixteenth senior brother, to act as the referee.

Tian Ziyue raised his hand. “Begin!”

Han Yu didn’t move his feet. He simply brought two fingers together.

Sharp Gold Technique.

A golden glint coated his flying sword. In the same breath, he executed the Yin Style Sword Art—”Piercing Rainbow.”

Swish!

The sword vanished, transforming into a streak of light. In a fraction of a second, it tore through Chen Pei’s protective barrier, smashed his flying sword out of the air, and came to a halt resting coldly against his neck.

The entire exchange took less than a breath.

“Senior Brother Chen,” Han Yu said softly, withdrawing his blade. “You let me win.”

Chen Pei stood frozen, eyes wide, mouth agape in stunned disbelief. The surrounding disciples were dead silent, their brains struggling to process the speed of the defeat.

Han Yu didn’t wait for applause. He turned his gaze to the Qi Refining ninth layer disciple.

“Senior Brother Ye. You’re next.”

Ye Shinian’s brow twitched violently.

He really meant it… beat him, then beat me?