"What?!"
Ling Mo's eyes widened, his pupils shrinking in disbelief. The strike he had unleashed with full confidence—one that should have shattered his opponent's chest—was caught in a single hand by Qin Shan. No tremor, no sign of pain. Qin Shan's arm barely shifted, as if that overwhelming force were nothing more than a passing breeze.
The crowd that had been watching from afar fell silent. The bustling square at Sea Breeze City's heart seemed frozen in time. The only sounds were Ling Mo's heavy breathing and the pounding of his own heartbeat, loud enough to echo in his ears.
"H-how…? You're only at the early Core Formation stage!" Ling Mo muttered, his voice trembling. It didn't make sense. The one he had mocked as "trash" shouldn't be able to stand against him.
Qin Shan's lips curved into a faint, blood-streaked smile. His narrowed eyes gleamed with calm disdain.
"You put too much faith in your shallow strength."
Before Ling Mo could steady his shaken mind, he lashed out again. His foot shot forward, kicking with such speed and power that a crescent-shaped shadow slashed through the air. The stone beneath them quaked, fine cracks webbing outward.
The spectral crescent tore toward Qin Shan with intent to crush him. Yet once again—tap!—the kick was intercepted, smothered by Qin Shan's deceptively simple move. Like water quenching fire, the attack fizzled away into nothing.
A cold shiver crawled up Ling Mo's spine. For the first time in his life, despair seeped into his chest as he faced an opponent he could not comprehend.
Refusing to accept defeat, he gathered every ounce of spiritual energy within his body. A dark crimson aura flared around him, violent and suffocating. He clenched his fist, muscles tightening until veins stood out, killing intent pouring off him like a tidal wave.
"Die!!" he roared, fury shaking his voice.
The onlookers instinctively staggered back, their faces pale.
"Incredible! That kind of force could crush a mid-stage Core Formation cultivator with a single blow!" a young man exclaimed.
"There's no way Qin Shan can survive this… this is the end," another whispered, trembling.
But once more, the impossible unfolded.
As Ling Mo's fist barreled toward Qin Shan's chest, its speed faltered. To the crowd, the strike was still blindingly fast—but to Ling Mo, every inch felt heavy, as though the world itself resisted his movement. Cold sweat streamed down his temples.
"No… this isn't right!" panic screamed in his mind.
Qin Shan let out a low chuckle.
"You should never have provoked me."
In a smooth pivot, Qin Shan twisted his body and drove his right foot straight into Ling Mo's bent knee.
Crack!
The sickening snap of bone rang across the square, followed by a scream that ripped from Ling Mo's throat. His face flushed crimson as his body crumpled, collapsing to his knees. His leg hung twisted and broken, ruined by a strike far simpler than the devastating power he had unleashed moments ago.
The crowd erupted in chaos.
"No… this is impossible!"
"How could trash from early Core Formation shatter Ling Mo's leg?!"
"Was he hiding his true strength all along?!"
Dozens of disbelieving eyes fixed on Qin Shan—some filled with awe, others with fear. They had witnessed something that defied reason.
Qin Shan said nothing. Bloodied and battered, he staggered past them, each step steady, each gaze sharp with purpose. This victory was only the beginning, and he knew the attention it drew would be a double-edged blade.
On the ground, Ling Mo writhed, hatred burning across his twisted features.
"Qin Shan! You'll pay for this! Two months from now, I'll tear you apart!"
Qin Shan did not so much as glance back. He walked on, leaving Ling Mo broken in the dust.
…
News of the battle spread like wildfire across Sea Breeze City. The name once synonymous with "trash" now carried the weight of an unbelievable tale. Not a single person failed to speak of Qin Shan.
Within the Ling Clan residence, a man of commanding presence listened to the report. This was Ling Wei, Qin Shan's father and the clan's third elder. His sharp gaze softened with a glint of pride.
"So, Qin'er… you've been hiding your strength all along," he murmured.
Later, as father and son sat together in the courtyard, Qin Shan calmly shook his head. "Father, I wasn't hiding anything. What happened earlier… was mere coincidence."
Ling Wei studied his son intently. As an early-stage Xiantian cultivator, one of the few in the Ling Clan to reach such a height, he knew better than anyone that his son had never shown exceptional talent. Yet today's events rattled even his certainty.
"Whatever the truth, you've made me proud. In two months, the clan tournament will be held. I hope you'll take part."
A faint smile curved Qin Shan's lips.
"I won't just participate. I'll take first place."
Ling Wei blinked, startled by the audacity, then broke into a broad grin. He didn't know where this confidence came from, but as a father, those words filled him with joy. "Very well. Tell me—what do you need?"
Qin Shan fell silent for a moment before answering. "I'll need one vial of Spirit Cleansing Pills, and two kilograms of Firefog Leaves."
Ling Wei nearly choked. "What?! That's worth five hundred gold coins! Do you think this is the estate of some wealthy Patriarch?!"
But Qin Shan's tone remained steady. "Trust me, Father. With the Spirit Cleansing Pills, I can purge my body of impurities. With the Firefog Leaves, I can temper myself further. If I succeed, I'll surpass the limits that have bound me."
Ling Wei searched his son's face, and what he saw was unshakable determination. His father's heart trembled.
"…Very well, Qin'er. If this is what you need, I'll prepare it."
Qin Shan nodded. Deep within, he knew this was only the first step. To reclaim the pinnacle he once held, to seize the heavens once more, he would have to walk a path of blood, sweat, and unwavering resolve.
But this time… he was no longer alone.
Elsewhere in Sea Breeze City, Ling Mo lay pale on his bed, the mocking laughter of the townsfolk echoing in his ears. Rage boiled within him, his eyes dark with hatred.
"Qin Shan… no matter the cost, I'll crush you before them all!"
Meanwhile, in the sixth elder's residence, a suffocating gloom took root. Seeds of vengeance stirred, biding their time. The clan tournament in two months—there, hatred, strength, and destiny would collide.
Back at his own courtyard, Qin Shan gazed up at the night sky. The ocean breeze carried its salty tang across the air. To him, the heavens above were more than a star-strewn canvas. They were the endless road to the summit—a path he had once walked, a path he would walk again.
"I am Qin Shan, Eternal Sovereign of the Heavens. Once more, this world will tremble beneath my steps."