Early the next morning, the moment Han Yu stepped past the threshold of his courtyard gate, he spotted three familiar figures lingering near the entrance.

Bai Lingyun, Li Xuan, and Meng Bao—accompanied by his imposing Long-Toothed Tiger—hurried forward the moment they saw him.

“Han Yu, my great-grandfather told me you’ve moved to the main peak and are teaching combat at the Battle Hall,” Bai Lingyun said, his eyes bright. “So, we came to find you.”

Meng Bao grinned broadly. “We’re Outer Disciples too, so we figure we’re allowed to enter the Battle Hall and give it a try.”

Han Yu nodded. “Alright. Come along and take a look.”

As they spoke, the murder of crows—large, small, and the one imbued with the Flame Technique—cawed overhead. They swept past the group, flying ahead toward the Battle Hall like a dark vanguard.

Han Yu led the trio to the hall’s entrance. Inside the courtyard stood Ye Shinian.

Dressed in blue robes, Ye Shinian held a jade flute in his right hand. In his left, he gripped a heavy black turtle shell, unmistakably a defensive shield. His gaze burned with intense focus as he locked eyes with Han Yu.

Obeying Han Yu’s will, the three crows descended, landing in positions behind Ye Shinian.

“Senior Brother Ye,” Han Yu said calmly. “Shall we begin?”

Ye Shinian hesitated, glancing around. “Let’s wait a moment. Your Master hasn’t arrived yet.”

Han Yu wasn’t surprised. He had noticed yesterday that the root of Ye Shinian’s resentment wasn’t just losing, but the fact that his own teacher, Sect Leader Qi, had praised someone else.

Whether Han Yu’s master, Elder Lu, showed up was irrelevant to Ye Shinian. The only thing that mattered was whether Sect Leader Qi was there to witness his redemption.

“Very well,” Han Yu replied indifferently. “I will wait.”

Seeing Han Yu’s cooperation, Ye Shinian nodded, his tone softening slightly. “Thank you, Junior Brother Han.”

“If we exceed two hours, we will have to wait until tomorrow,” Han Yu reminded him, his voice cool. “I only spend two hours daily at the Battle Hall.”

Hearing this, Ye Shinian couldn’t help but feel a spike of nervousness. He kept craning his neck to look at the sky, praying for Sect Leader Qi’s swift arrival.

Bai Lingyun and his companions watched the exchange, secretly amazed by Han Yu’s composure.

“Han Yu,” Bai Lingyun whispered, leaning in. “Senior Brother Ye placed third in the Inner Sect Grand Competition. He’s the strongest disciple in the Battle Hall. Are you really going to duel him?”

Han Yu gave a slight nod.

Excitement washed over the faces of the trio. The Battle Hall was truly interesting; watching such high-level clashes daily was far more thrilling than the dull routine elsewhere.

About two quarters of an hour later, Sect Leader Qi arrived, descending from the sky without the aid of a Magical Artifact—a display of pure cultivation power.

Elder Lu followed closely behind, riding his personal flying boat.

Perhaps the other Elders had idle time today, for Elder Yan, Elder Bai, and Elder Mou arrived in their wake.

Bai Lingyun immediately scurried over to the white-bearded elder. “Great-grandfather, you came to the Battle Hall too?”

Elder Bai nodded slightly, signaling with a wave of his hand for the boy to step back and not hover.

Seeing Sect Leader Qi and the four Elders assembled, Ye Shinian’s face lit up with relief and anticipation. He turned to Han Yu. “Junior Brother Han, shall we start now?”

Sect Leader Qi and the four Elders watched with keen interest. The surrounding Battle Hall disciples stood respectfully to the side, not daring to make a sound, limiting themselves to hushed whispers.

Bai Lingyun and Li Xuan blended into the crowd of disciples. Meng Bao hurriedly dragged his Long-Toothed Tiger back a few steps to ensure the beast didn’t obstruct the view.

Han Yu nodded and took his position in front of Ye Shinian.

Flap, flap, flap.

The three crows beat their wings, the sound rustling like wind through poplar leaves. They hovered menacingly behind Ye Shinian, completing the pincer formation—Han Yu in front, the birds at the rear.

Ye Shinian glanced at Han Yu, then back at the crows. He almost spoke up to complain about the unfair positioning, but then he tightened his grip on the turtle shell shield.

No need to complain, he thought. I have a new Magical Artifact. It is only natural for him to have a new countermeasure.

As the two stood ready, Sect Leader Qi’s voice rang out. “Begin.”

Ye Shinian immediately surged his Spirit Breath, swinging the turtle shell shield onto his back to cover his rear.

Just as he anticipated, Han Yu’s three crows attacked almost simultaneously from behind.

Ye Shinian chuckled inwardly. Exactly as expected. As long as I block these beasts and prevent them from interfering, I can face Han Yu head-on. With my cultivation, there is absolutely no reason to lose.

Thud! Thud!

Dull, heavy impacts resonated as the crows pecked and clawed at the turtle shell. The defense held firm.

Ye Shinian raised the jade flute to his lips and began to play, aiming a sonic attack directly at Han Yu.

But then, he saw it.

Han Yu’s flying sword shimmered with a lethal green light. Simultaneously, Han Yu pressed two fingers together, applying the Sharp Gold Technique to the blade.

And then, the impossible happened.

Han Yu’s figure blurred and split.

One became three.

Three identical Han Yus appeared—left, center, and right. All three held glowing flying swords, and all three assumed the aggressive “Piercing Rainbow” stance.

Which one is real? Which ones are fake?

Ye Shinian suppressed his shock and steeled his heart. Pouring Spirit Breath into the jade flute, he blew sharply, firing a wind blade at each of the three figures in rapid succession.

The three Han Yus launched their attack simultaneously. They collided with the wind blades, and then—

Flicker.

All three figures feinted and vanished into thin air.

“Huh?”

Ye Shinian’s mouth fell open. He stood there, clutching his flute, completely at a loss. Where is he?

A sensation of cold steel pressed against his waist.

A sword ray, tinged with green light, emerged from his blind spot. Han Yu’s figure gradually materialized right beside him, the blade resting gently against Ye Shinian’s ribs.

“Senior Brother Ye,” Han Yu said politely. “I concede to your courtesy.”

Ye Shinian’s hand trembled.

When did I ever show you courtesy? And you dare say you ‘concede’ to me?!

“This…” Ye Shinian stammered, his arrogance deflating. “What kind of spell is this?”

“How did you suddenly become three figures, vanish, and then reappear?”

Ye Shinian voiced the confusion plaguing every disciple in the hall.

“This is a combination of the Phantom Body Technique and the Vision Confusing Technique,” Han Yu explained calmly. “Specifically designed to mislead the opponent’s senses.”

Ye Shinian was dumbfounded. “I know the Phantom Body Technique; it can only create a single phantom. Your version—”

Realizing Ye Shinian was about to probe into the nature of Han Yu’s monstrous talent, Sect Leader Qi immediately interrupted.

“Enough. The outcome is decided. Discussions can be had later.”

The Sect Leader scanned the crowd. “Are there any others who wish to duel Han Yu? The Elders and I are watching and can offer pointers.”

The moment Sect Leader Qi spoke, the disciples realized the rarity of this opportunity. To be coached by the Sect Leader himself?

“I will!” “Me too!”

Over ten disciples eagerly spoke up, raising their hands.

Elder Lu clutched his chest, distressed. “No, no! That’s too many. At most five!”

He quickly selected four disciples from the volunteers to duel Han Yu one by one.

Sect Leader Qi, Elder Yan, and the others exchanged amused glances. This Lu Qing… he really left one speechless with his protectiveness.

The subsequent battles did not last long. Han Yu moved with efficiency, dismantling the four challengers and defeating them in rapid succession.

After the fights, Sect Leader Qi and the four Elders stepped forward to lecture the disciples. They didn’t just correct spell usage; they focused on timing, and more importantly, the intent to kill.

“The original intention of the Battle Hall is to temper your combat skills and your mindset,” Sect Leader Qi announced, his voice grave.

“Just now, Han Yu fought five consecutive matches, winning each within one or two exchanges. This was merely sparring. If this were a life-and-death struggle, those five disciples would already be corpses cooling on the ground.”

The disciples fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in.

“You must understand,” the Sect Leader continued, his gaze sweeping over them. “Once you encounter an enemy, you have two choices. Either flee for your life, or fight. And if you choose to fight, you must go all out from the very first breath.”

“Talismans, spells, Magical Artifacts, Spirit Breath—use everything. Hold nothing back.”

“Once your life is gone, what use is preserving your trump cards? The more you use, the higher your chance of survival.”

“Banishes thoughts of fighting honorably from your minds. The enemy will not grant you honor; they will only do their utmost to kill you. We must treat them with the same courtesy.”

The grim speech hung in the air, a foreshadowing of the dark times approaching.

After the lecture concluded and the Elders departed, Han Yu noted that his two-hour shift was up. He prepared to leave.

Bai Lingyun and his friends, eyes shining from the spectacle, were eager to try their hand and went to sign up for the Battle Hall roster.

Just then, Tian Ziyue called out, leading a sullen Ye Shinian over.

“Eighteenth Junior Brother,” Tian Ziyue said with a grin. “Senior Brother Ye wants to ask you: did you use your full strength today?”

Han Yu nodded solemnly. “Indeed. I fought with everything I had. I barely managed to secure the victory.”

Tian Ziyue couldn’t hold back a laugh.

Ye Shinian gritted his teeth, his face flushing with frustration. “Do you think I’m stupid enough to believe you?”

This little junior brother… he’s actually quite wicked!