Next Day – Morning
Hao Family – Main Hall, Feng City
A heavy silence clung to the Hao family's main hall, thick as fog and just as suffocating. Golden sunlight filtered in through the intricate lattice windows, casting long shadows across the marble floor. But the warmth of the sun did little to thaw the cold war unfolding within these walls.
The air was tense—oppressive. Servants had been dismissed. Guards posted at a distance. Only the most powerful figures of Feng City remained: the Chan and Shao family leaders, each flanked by their most trusted elders and bodyguards. Their expressions were polite, but their eyes flickered with disdain, amusement, and anticipation.
They hadn't come to offer congratulations.
They came to collect—again.
For decades, the Hao family had been the weakest of the four great clans of Feng City. A once-promising bloodline reduced to little more than vassals—forced to pay tributes, offer up their rare herbs, and relinquish spirit stones under the guise of "protection." The Chan and Shao clans took what they pleased. And the Hao endured, their pride buried, their resentment simmering.
Until today.
At the far end of the hall, the aging Patriarch Hao Lan slowly rose from his carved jade throne. His once-bent back now held straight, his robes shimmering faintly with protective inscriptions. There was steel in his eyes—tempered by decades of humiliation.
Behind him stood a young man, unfamiliar to many present. He was tall, with long silver hair tied in a simple ribbon. He wore plain dark robes, and a black jade pendant pulsed faintly on his chest. His aura was suppressed—contained—yet everyone could feel it. A pressure. A chill. Like something ancient had stirred.
This was Hao Xuan.
The hall fell silent as Hao Lan spoke, his voice echoing with unexpected authority.
> "As of today, Hao Xuan shall be the new leader of the Hao family."
The elders of the Hao clan bowed their heads in unison, affirming the decision.
A murmur swept through the Shao and Chan guests. Whispers, scoffs, mocking glances. A child? A hidden heir? So this was the Hao family's gamble?
But Hao Lan wasn't finished. His next words cut through the air like a blade.
> "And from this moment onward, we sever all submission ties to the Chan family. The contract forged decades ago—we reject it."
The silence shattered. A ripple of shock moved through the room.
Across the hall, Chan Man, patriarch of the Chan family, laughed aloud. It was a cruel, rasping sound, like dry leaves being crushed.
> "Hao Lan… you senile old fool. This is your plan? Hiding a brat all these years and thinking he'll save you?"
He sneered and leaned forward, voice darkening.
> "Have you forgotten? One of your people crippled my son years ago. We spared your family—only because of the agreement. You owe us tributes. You owe us blood. Break it, and you forfeit your protection."
But Hao Lan did not flinch. His face was calm. Only his hands—tight on the jade armrest—betrayed his buried anticipation.
> ("Keep talking, Chan Man. Just a few more seconds… and your fate will be sealed.")
Suddenly, Chan Man's tone dropped into ice.
With a flick of his hand, he gave a silent order.
An elder from the Chan clan stepped forward, robes fluttering with spiritual pressure. He was gaunt, pale, and his fingers oozed a dark mist as he lifted his palm.
> "Hundred Poison Palm."
A sickly green spiritual hand—twice the size of a man—formed above him, swirling with venomous energy. It roared forward, aimed straight at Hao Xuan's heart.
But the elders of the Hao family didn't move.
No protective barrier. No counterattack.
They just stood—watching.
> ("What…?")
Chan Man frowned.
("Why aren't they reacting…?")
Realizing something was off, he opened his mouth to stop the elder—
> "Wait—!"
Too late.
The palm slammed down with a thunderous BOOM, blasting stone tiles into the air. Dust swallowed the center of the room, cracks splitting across the floor.
For a heartbeat, no one breathed.
Then the dust cleared.
And there he was.
Hao Xuan, untouched. Arms folded. Standing on unbroken ground.
Not a thread out of place.
He exhaled in boredom and looked up at the elder who attacked him.
> "That was your secret technique? Hm. You call that poison?"
There was genuine disappointment in his voice.
The elder staggered back, lips trembling.
> ("Impossible... Even a sixth-stage couldn't take that…")
But Hao Xuan wasn't done.
He raised one hand—and from his sleeves drifted a thin mist. It glowed faintly under the sunlight, almost beautiful in its shimmering haze.
Then it spread.
A moment later, screams filled the hall.
Dozens of Chan family members collapsed—nosebleeds, convulsions, spiritual backlash. Their internal qi tore itself apart.
Even Shao family elders turned pale. One clutched his chest. Another swayed.
Only those at sixth stage and above remained on their feet—and even they felt their knees weaken, vision blurring.
But the Hao family?
Unaffected.
They stood tall. Calm. Prepared.
> ("They were… inoculated. He gave them antidotes…")
> "Last night," Hao Xuan spoke evenly, "I instructed my clan not to interfere. Because I knew they would attack first."
He turned toward the elder who had cast the Hundred Poison Palm.
> "Your mistake was underestimating my poison."
With one flick of his fingers, a cold gleam flashed—
—and the elder's head fell to the floor.
Then, without pause, Hao Xuan's sword swept again—Chan Man's head soared into the air, blood spiraling like a dragon before hitting the floor with a final, wet thud.
The Chan family broke.
Terrified and crippled by poison, the survivors fell to their knees.
> "Swear loyalty to the Hao family…"
Hao Xuan said coldly.
"...or die like your leaders."
And so they did.
One after another, they prostrated themselves—vowing allegiance to the very clan they once extorted.
In the far corner of the hall, the Shao family had not moved.
Not even when the floor was stained red.
They sat still—observing, calculating.
Finally, the Shao patriarch, Shao Huan, chuckled softly. There was no fear in his expression—only measured curiosity.
> "So this is what all of this was for…"
"You didn't just want to become clan leader. You want the City Lord's throne."
He leaned back, fingers tapping the armrest.
> "I'll admit… you've played this well. The Chan family was rotten. But don't get ahead of yourself, Hao Xuan."
He gestured toward his men.
> "The Shao family is backed by a sect. Our roots run deep. If you think your poison can touch us the way it touched them—"
He smiled.
> "—you're gravely mistaken."
Hao Xuan didn't respond.
But his eyes locked with Shao Huan's.
Calm. Cold. Certain.
> ("He understands. And yet, he still thinks he's safe. That arrogance… will be his undoing.")
The blood on the floor hadn't yet dried. The poisoned still whimpered and wept. But already, the city's balance had shifted.
In a single morning, one 2sd class family had fallen.
And Hao Xuan?
He was just getting started.