Chapter 3: The Hunting Grounds
The Azure Peak Sect's hunting grounds sprawled across the sect's northern border, where cultivated valleys gave way to wild forest. Here, protective formations thinned deliberately, allowing spirit beasts to roam in controlled numbers a training ground for disciples and a source of valuable materials.
Chen Feng stood at the edge of the designated hunting zone, watching more prominent disciples organize themselves into teams. Their laughter and banter carried across the morning air, the carefree confidence of those who had never truly faced death.
"Outer disciples form groups of five!" The coordinator, an Inner Sect disciple named Bai Xuan, shouted from atop a platform. "You'll be hunting in Zone Threelow-level beasts only. Anyone who ventures beyond the marked boundaries will be disqualified and punished."
Chen Feng observed the team formations with clinical detachment. Zhao Tian, unsurprisingly, had gathered a group of followers disciples from influential families, their equipment gleaming with expensive enchantments. They would hunt the choicest prey in the safest areas, maximizing glory while minimizing risk.
"Chen Feng!" Lin Mei approached, accompanied by three other outer disciples. "Join our group. We're short one person."
He recognized the others: Wu Tai, a burly youth with more enthusiasm than skill; Xiao Ling, a quiet girl who specialized in archery; and Fang Ren, whose father managed sect logistics. Competent but unremarkable precisely the kind of group that drew no special attention.
"I'm honored by the invitation," Chen Feng said, bowing slightly. "But I intend to hunt alone."
Lin Mei's expression shifted to concern. "Alone? Chen Feng, that's dangerous even for disciples at higher levels. You " She caught herself, but the implication hung between them.
You're too weak.
"I understand your concern, Senior Sister. But I have my reasons."
Her eyes searched his face, finding something that made her step back slightly. "As you wish. Be careful."
He watched her rejoin her group, saw the others shake their heads at his foolishness. Let them think what they wanted. Group hunting meant shared beast cores, diluted benefits, and too many witnesses to his unorthodox methods.
The hunting horn sounded a deep, resonant note that shivered through the morning air.
Disciples surged forward in organized chaos, their excited voices fading as they disappeared into the forest. Chen Feng waited until the initial rush subsided, then moved into the tree line with the unhurried pace of someone who had already planned his route.
Zone Three was designated for outer disciples because it housed primarily mortal-level beasts with minimal spiritual cultivation creatures that posed challenge without significant danger. The truly powerful spirit beasts inhabited the deep forest, beyond where outer disciples were permitted.
Which was precisely where Chen Feng intended to go.
The Celestial Demon Scripture contained detailed information about spirit beasts, including which ones possessed cores most compatible with demonic cultivation. One beast in particular caught his attention: the Shadow Fang Wolf.
These creatures were known for hunting alone, preferring darkness and ambush tactics. They typically dwelled in Zone Five or beyond areas restricted to inner disciples and elders. But the Scripture noted that younger Shadow Fangs occasionally wandered into lower zones during the beast tide, seeking prey in the chaos.
A risky target. But the reward would be substantial.
Chen Feng moved deeper into the forest, his steps carefully placed to minimize sound. The Celestial Demon Scripture had begun altering more than just his spiritual capacity his senses had sharpened, his reflexes improved, his ability to detect spiritual energy fluctuations refined beyond his previous limitations.
Around him, the sounds of other disciples' hunts echoed: shouts of triumph, clashes of weapons, the death cries of beasts. He filtered these out, focusing instead on subtler signs.
There a disturbance in the ambient spiritual energy, like a ripple in otherwise still water.
Chen Feng adjusted his path, following the disturbance with patient persistence. An hour passed, then another. Other disciples would have grown frustrated, but he had learned patience through five years of humiliation. What were a few hours compared to that?
The forest gradually changed character. The trees grew taller, their trunks wider, their canopy denser. The boundary marker for Zone Three passed almost invisibly—a series of carved stones that most disciples would never cross.
Chen Feng didn't hesitate.
In Zone Four, the spiritual energy was noticeably richer, almost visible as a faint shimmer in the air. The beasts here were stronger, their cores more developed. Hunting them solo was legitimately dangerous for someone of his level.
Perfect.
He found his first real prey an hour later: a Jade-Back Boar, its hide gleaming with a crystalline sheen that indicated significant spiritual cultivation. Third level of Qi Condensation equivalent, if Chen Feng estimated correctly stronger than him in raw power.
The boar hadn't detected him yet, too focused on rooting through the undergrowth for spiritual herbs. Chen Feng studied it from behind cover, analyzing attack patterns from the Scripture's extensive beast compendium.
Jade-Back Boars had exceptional defense but poor mobility. They charged in straight lines, relying on their reinforced skulls and thick hides to overwhelm prey. The weak points were eyes, joints, and the softer underbelly classic vulnerabilities, but difficult to exploit without superior speed or technique.
Chen Feng didn't have either advantage.
What he had was the Celestial Demon Scripture's first combat technique: Devouring Strike.
Unlike orthodox martial techniques that projected qi outward, Devouring Strike pulled inward an attack that didn't just damage but actively consumed the target's spiritual energy upon contact. The more powerful the target, the more energy could be stolen.
It was also incredibly risky. Executing the technique required lowering one's defensive circulation, making the user vulnerable to counterattack.
But risk and reward were old companions to Chen Feng.
He waited until the boar's head was lowered, distracted by a particularly pungent root. Then he moved, his approach silent and swift, blade drawn from its sheath with practiced smoothness.
The boar sensed him at the last moment, beginning to turn
Chen Feng's sword struck the creature's exposed flank, qi flooding through the blade in a pattern that defied orthodox principles. Instead of cutting deep, the blade barely penetrated, but spiritual energy surged from beast to human in a violent reversal of natural flow.
The Jade-Back Boar screamed, a sound of shock and pain and confusion as its spiritual cultivation was forcibly torn away. It stumbled, legs giving out, jade-like hide dimming as power bled from its core.
Chen Feng felt the stolen energy rush into his meridians, rich and potent and intoxicating. His body absorbed it greedily, the Celestial Demon Scripture's formations converting external qi into his own at rates impossible through meditation.
The boar tried to charge, but its strength was already failing. Chen Feng sidestepped easily and struck again, sword finding the gap between skull and spine.
Silence descended, broken only by his controlled breathing.
Chen Feng quickly extracted the beast core a jade-green sphere the size of his thumb, still warm with residual energy. He could feel his body responding to its proximity, meridians practically vibrating with hunger.
Not here. Not in the open where anyone might stumble upon him.
He stored the core in his pouch and moved deeper into the zone, seeking shelter. An hour later he found it: a small cave, barely more than an indentation in a rocky hillside, but sufficient for his purposes.
Chen Feng sat cross-legged at the cave's entrance where he could watch for approaching threats, then withdrew the beast core. It pulsed with spiritual energy, far more concentrated than the ambient power he'd been slowly absorbing.
Orthodox cultivation would require careful refinement hours or days of meditation to slowly integrate the core's energy without overwhelming the cultivator's dantian. The Celestial Demon Scripture had no such concerns.
Chen Feng pressed the core against his chest and began the Devouring Breath technique.
The core's energy flooded into him not gently but like a breaking dam. Pain shot through his meridians as vast quantities of power rushed through channels that were still adapting to demonic cultivation. His body convulsed, muscles spasming involuntarily.
But Chen Feng had grown familiar with pain. He maintained his breathing pattern with ironclad discipline, directing the energy through the specific pathways outlined in the Scripture. His meridians expanded further, reinforced by the beast's natural strength. His dantian, that hollow space that had been his curse, began to fill with solidified energy that wouldn't dissipate.
Time became meaningless. There was only energy, pain, and relentless focus.
When Chen Feng finally opened his eyes, the sun had moved significantly across the sky. The beast core in his hand had dulled to grey stone, all its spiritual essence consumed.
He tested his cultivation level carefully, circulating qi through his system. The improvement was dramatic he had advanced to the mid-stage of the first Qi Condensation level, perhaps even touching the peak. One more beast of similar quality would push him into the second level.
More importantly, the Devouring Strike technique had proven effective. He could hunt beasts above his level, stealing their power to fuel rapid advancement. The method was dangerous, inefficient by conventional standards, and would permanently mark him as a demonic cultivator if discovered.
But it worked.
Chen Feng emerged from the cave as shadows lengthened. He had time for one more hunt before needing to return to the sect. Two beast cores would give him the foundation he needed; three would be excessive but provide a comfortable margin.
He found his second prey as dusk painted the forest gold: a Crimson-Eyed Falcon, circling above the canopy in graceful spirals. Fourth level of Qi Condensation equivalent stronger than the boar, and far more dangerous due to superior speed and aerial advantage.
Also more valuable.
Chen Feng watched the falcon's pattern, noting its hunting circuit. Every third pass, it dove toward a particular clearing where small prey gathered. Predictable behavior born from successful repetition.
Predictability could be exploited.
Chen Feng positioned himself in the clearing, standing openly, deliberately making himself visible. To the falcon, he would appear as prey a human weakling, easy pickings for a spirit beast of its cultivation level.
The falcon noticed him on its next pass. Circled once more, evaluating. Then folded its wings and dove.
The attack came like crimson lightning, talons extended, beak aimed for vital points. Speed that would overwhelm most first-level Qi Condensation cultivators.
Chen Feng waited until the last possible moment.
Then moved.
Not away toward. Straight into the falcon's dive, sword angled upward in a defensive guard that became an attack as the bird's own momentum carried it onto the blade.
Devouring Strike activate
d with perfect timing.
The falcon shrieked as spiritual energy tore from its body, its dive becoming an uncontrolled tumble. Chen Feng twisted aside, letting the creature crash into the earth behind him. It struggled to rise, wings beating frantically, but its movements were sluggish, power hemorrhaging from the wound in ways that defied natural healing.
Chen Feng struck again, this time at the neck. The falcon's cries cut short.
He worked quickly, extracting the core this one a deep red, pulsing with vitality. Already he could feel his meridians responding, eager for more power.
Two cores. Enough to reach the second level of Qi Condensation, meeting Zhao Tian's challenge. Enough to avoid expulsion.
But not enough to be safe.
Chen Feng had spent five years watching sect politics from the bottom. He understood the hierarchy's brutality: weakness invited predation, adequacy earned indifference, but true safety required being strong enough that attacking you cost more than the benefit gained.
Reaching the second level would save him from immediate expulsion. It wouldn't protect him from future schemes, wouldn't grant him resources or respect, wouldn't change his fundamental position.
For that, he needed to make a statement.
Chen Feng stored the falcon's core and continued deeper into Zone Four, ignoring the distant sounds of the hunting horn signaling the day's end. Other disciples would be returning now, eager to display their catches and claim their rewards.
Let them.
Night fell across the forest like a curtain. Most disciples feared hunting in darkness—reduced visibility, increased danger, the risk of encountering nocturnal predators. But the Celestial Demon Scripture had altered Chen Feng's eyes along with his other senses. Darkness was no longer absolute; he could perceive spiritual energy as faint luminescence, tracking beasts by the glow of their cores.
And in the darkness, Shadow Fang Wolves emerged to hunt.
Chen Feng found their territory by following the spiritual scent a particular quality of energy that the Scripture described as "cold hunger." The wolves marked their range with claw marks on trees, visible to his enhanced perception as channels where spiritual energy flowed differently.
He was trespassing. The wolves would respond.
Chen Feng selected his battleground carefully: a small clearing surrounded by dense undergrowth, with a large boulder at one end. The terrain limited attack angles while providing cover. He positioned himself with his back to the stone and waited.
The first wolf appeared within minutes, materializing from shadows with supernatural silence. It was larger than any mortal wolf, its fur absorbing light rather than reflecting it, eyes glowing with predatory intelligence. Fifth level of Qi Condensation equivalent—significantly beyond Chen Feng's current capability.
The wolf circled, evaluating. Testing.
Chen Feng remained still, blade held in a neutral guard, breathing controlled. The Celestial Demon Scripture had taught him that spirit beasts respected strength and certainty. Show fear, and they would attack en masse. Show weakness, and they would tear him apart.
Show calculated danger, and they might hesitate.
A second wolf emerged from the opposite side. Then a third. Three predators, coordinating with pack intelligence, surrounding a lone human who should be easy prey.
The largest wolf the alpha, Chen Feng assumed released a low growl that resonated with spiritual energy. A challenge and a warning: leave or die.
Chen Feng raised his sword slightly, angling the blade to catch moonlight. His response was clear: he wasn't leaving.
The alpha attacked first, a dark blur of fang and claw. The other two followed a heartbeat later, perfectly timed to prevent escape.
Chen Feng moved into the attack rather than away, surprising the alpha mid-leap. His sword found fur and flesh, and Devouring Strike pulled hard. The alpha's momentum carried it past him, crashing into the boulder as stolen energy flooded Chen Feng's system.
The second wolf's claws raked his shoulder, tearing cloth and drawing blood. Pain lanced through him, but Chen Feng had learned to fight through pain. He twisted, blade cutting in a tight arc that caught the beast across its muzzle.
The third wolf bit his leg, fangs piercing muscle. Chen Feng dropped to one knee, using the movement to bring his sword down on the creature's spine. Bone cracked. The wolf released him with a yelp.
Then the alpha was back, recovering faster than expected despite the energy drain. It slammed into Chen Feng's chest, driving him backward into the boulder. Air exploded from his lungs. Fangs snapped inches from his throat.
Chen Feng dropped his sword and caught the wolf's jaw with both hands, fingers digging into fur and flesh. This close, there was no technique, no elegance—only desperate strength and the absolute refusal to die.
He activated Devouring Strike through his bare hands.
The alpha's eyes widened in what might have been shock as its spiritual energy tore away in massive amounts. Chen Feng felt the power rushing into him, raw and untamed, his meridians straining to contain the flood. Too much, too fast he was approaching the breaking point where the energy would rupture his cultivation base.
But the alpha weakened faster than Chen Feng broke.
The great wolf collapsed onto him, its weight crushing. Chen Feng shoved the body aside and rolled to his feet, gasping, bleeding from multiple wounds. The second wolf was retreating, dragging its injured pack mate. They disappeared into the forest, intelligent enough to recognize a battle they couldn't win.
Chen Feng stood alone in the clearing, surrounded by blood much of it his own. His vision swam. His leg barely supported his weight. Every breath sent spikes of agony through his chest.
But in his core, power churned like a caged storm.
He retrieved his sword and limped to the alpha's corpse. The beast core, when extracted, was the largest yet obsidian black shot through with silver veins, heavy with concentrated spiritual energy. Fifth level of Qi Condensation, possibly approaching the sixth.
Chen Feng held the core in trembling hands, fully aware that consuming it in his current state was monumentally dangerous. His meridians were already strained from the previous absorptions. His body was injured, his focus compromised. Everything in orthodox cultivation wisdom said to retreat, to heal, to integrate power gradually.
The Celestial Demon Scripture offered different advice: consume while the hunger is fresh, when the body's survival instincts amplify absorption. Use pain as fuel. Transform near-death into breakthrough.
Chen Feng sat against the boulder and pressed the core to his chest.
What followed was beyond pain, beyond coherent description. Every meridian felt like it was being reforged in divine fire. His dantian, that hollow space, suddenly filled and compressed, energy solidifying into a foundation that would support higher cultivation. His blood seemed to boil. His bones ached as if growing.
And through it all, the Celestial Demon Scripture guided the transformation, directing chaos into structure, preventing the energy from tearing him apart from within.
When consciousness returned Chen Feng couldn't say if minutes or hours had passed the moon had moved significantly across the sky. The core in his hand was dust.
He tested his cultivation carefully, afraid to believe what his senses told him.
Second level of Qi Condensation. Peak stage.
One night of hunting, three beast cores, and he had achieved what should have taken months of careful cultivation. The advancement was too rapid by orthodox standards, the foundation unstable, the method completely unsustainable.
But it was real.
Chen Feng examined his wounds. The bleeding had stopped, accelerated healing another benefit of the breakthrough. He was battered, exhausted, and looked like he'd fought through hell.
Perfect.
He cleaned his sword on the wolf's fur, retrieved his belongings, and began the journey back to the sect. Dawn was approaching, painting the eastern sky in shades of gold and rose. Other disciples would be waking, preparing to resume their hunts, competing for the best territories and choicest prey.
They were welcome to it.
Chen Feng emerged from the forest as the sun cleared the horizon, his appearance drawing immediate attention. Blood-soaked robes, multiple visible wounds, moving with the careful deliberation of someone pushed to their limits.
Lin Mei spotted him first, her face shifting from relief to horror. "Chen Feng! What happened? You need the medical hall "
"I'm fine." His voice was rough, throat dry from the night's exertions. "Just a difficult hunt."
"Difficult?" She stared at him like he'd grown a second head. "You look like you fought a demon bear!"
"Something like that."
Before she could press further, Zhao Tian approached, his group trailing behind. The young master's handsome face showed carefully calibrated concern, but his eyes held calculation. "Chen Feng. We heard you went hunting alone. A dangerous choice for someone of your... level."
The slight emphasis on the last word wasn't lost on anyone present.
Chen Feng met his gaze evenly. "This disciple managed adequately."
"I see." Zhao Tian's smile didn't reach his eyes. "And what did you catch, if I may ask? Anything of note?"
Chen Feng reached into his pouch and withdrew three beast cores: jade green from the boar, crimson from the falcon, obsidian from the wolf. He held them out for inspection, watching Zhao Tian's expression shift minutely.
Murmurs rippled through the gathered disciples. Three cores, including one clearly from a high-level beast, was an impressive haul even for experienced hunters. For Chen Feng the sect's acknowledged waste it was nearly impossible.
"Remarkable," Zhao Tian said slowly. "These are quality cores. Particularly this one." He indicated the wolf's core without touching it. "Fifth level beast minimum. How did someone at your cultivation level manage such a kill?"
The question carried an edge. An accusation wrapped in polite inquiry.
Chen Feng shrugged, the movement sending fresh spikes of pain through his shoulder. "Luck, preparation, and a willingness to risk everything. Sometimes that's sufficient."
"Indeed." Zhao Tian's eyes narrowed fractionally. "Well, congratulations on your success. I look forward to seeing how you've progressed when the competition arrives."
The young master turned away, his group following like trained hounds. But Chen Feng caught the look Zhao Tian exchanged with one of his followers a silent communication that promised future attention.
Good. Let them watch. Let them wonder. Let them underestimate him right up until it was too late.
Lin Mei waited until Zhao Tian was out of earshot before speaking quietly. "Chen Feng, what are you doing? Zhao Tian is dangerous when he feels threatened."
"Then he shouldn't threaten people."
"This isn't a joke!"
"I know." Chen Feng looked at her, really looked, seeing the genuine concern in her eyes. "Senior Sister Lin, I appreciate your friendship more than you know. But I can't live my entire life making myself small to avoid offending those who would crush me anyway. At some point, you have to stand up, or you might as well lie down and die."
She studied him for a long moment. "You really have changed."
"Yes."
"Is it for the better?"
Chen Feng considered the question honestly. The Celestial Demon Scripture was transforming him into something neither fully righteous nor completely demonic. He was becoming a creature of survival and ambition, willing to use any method, any technique, any opportunity to grow stronger.
Was that better? By whose standards?
"Ask me again after the competition," he said finally.
Lin Mei sighed. "Just... be careful. Promise me that much."
"I promise to survive. That's the only promise I can make."
She shook her head but didn't argue further, moving away to rejoin her group.
Chen Feng made his way to the medical hall, where a junior physician treated his wounds with professional efficiency and minimal conversation. The injuries were significant but not life-threatening he would be functional within days, fully healed within two weeks.
The competition was in three weeks.
Perfect timing.
Back in his small room, Chen Feng carefully cleaned his sword and stored the remaining medicinal supplies. Then he sat in meditation, examining his newly solidified foundation.
The second level of Qi Condensation represented a significant milestone. At this stage, a cultivator's spiritual energy became substantial enough to reinforce their body beyond normal human limits, to execute martial techniques with real power, to stand as genuine threats in combat.
But Chen Feng's foundation was different from orthodox cultivation. The Celestial Demon Scripture had built something hybrid neither pure nor corrupt, but functional and potent. His meridians were wider and more robust than normal, capable of handling greater energy flow. His dantian, rather than storing energy in gaseous form, compressed it into a denser state that provided more power with less volume.
The trade-off was stability. Orthodox cultivation built slowly, ensuring each level was perfectly solidified before advancing. Chen Feng's rapid advancement through consumption meant his foundation, while powerful, had cracks stress points where the energy didn't flow as smoothly as it should.
He would need to reinforce those weaknesses before advancing further. But for now, he had achieved his immediate goal.
He was no longer the waste of Azure Peak Sect.
Over the next three weeks, Chen Feng maintained his routine at the Medicine Hall while secretly refining his cultivation. Elder Han noticed the change in his spiritual energy but said nothing, merely observing with scholarly interest.
"Your foundations feel different," the old man commented once. "Unusual structure. Did you find an alternative cultivation method?"
Chen Feng tensed, but Elder Han waved a dismissive hand. "I don't care about sect politics or orthodox dogma. Alchemy requires open-mindedness. If you've found something that works for your damaged meridians, more power to you. Just don't blow up my storage rooms."
The unexpected acceptance was both relieving and unsettling. But Elder Han kept his word, never reporting Chen Feng's unusual cultivation to the sect authorities.
The competition day arrived with clear skies and eager crowds.
The Outer Disciple Competition was held in the sect's main arena a massive circular platform surrounded by tiered seating where inner disciples, elders, and sect leadership could observe. For outer disciples, the competition represented the only legitimate path to advancement, recognition, and increased resources.
For Chen Feng, it was the stage where his resurrection would be announced to all who had dismissed him.
The opening ceremony was mercifully brief. Sect Leader Yun a stern woman at the Soul Formation stage gave a speech about effort, honor, and the sect's glorious future. Chen Feng tuned it out, focusing instead on his opponents.
Two hundred outer disciples participated, divided into preliminary rounds that would narrow the field to thirty-two for the main tournament. The preliminary fights were simple: win and advance, lose and return to obscurity.
Chen Feng's first match was announced.
"Chen Feng versus Wu Zhang!"
Wu Zhang was a fourth-level Qi Condensation cultivator, built like a boulder with fists to match. He grinned as Chen Feng took the stage, confidence radiating from every gesture.
"Heard you got lucky in the hunting grounds," Wu Zhang said conversationally. "Let's see if that luck holds in a real fight."
The referee an inner disciple raised his hand. "Standard rules. Victory by surrender, knockout, or ring-out. Deliberately fatal techniques are forbidden. Begin!"
Wu Zhang charged immediately, his approach straightforward and powerful. Fists wreathed in spiritual energy, each blow capable of shattering stone.
Chen Feng sidestepped the first punch, ducked the second, and flowed around the third with economy of movement that came from the Celestial Demon Scripture's combat forms. Unlike orthodox martial arts that emphasized either power or speed, the demonic techniques focused on efficiency minimal energy expenditure for maximum effect.
"Stand still!" Wu Zhang roared, frustration building as his attacks found only air.
Chen Feng waited for the opening he knew would come. Powerful fighters often sacrificed defense for offense, assuming their strength would overwhelm before they were countered.
There Wu Zhang over-extended on a haymaker punch, his guard dropping for a fraction of a second.
Chen Feng's sword flickered out, not cutting but striking with the flat of the blade—a precise strike to the nerve cluster below Wu Zhang's ribs.
Devouring Strike in its most subtle form, draining just enough energy to disrupt the opponent's circulation.
Wu Zhang's eyes widened as his spiritual energy suddenly scattered, his reinforcement failing. Chen Feng's follow-up strike a simple palm to the chest sent the larger man tumbling backward, off the platform and into the sand below.
"Ring-out! Chen Feng advances!"
Silence.
Then murmuring, confused and curious. Chen Feng had won, but the victory hadn't looked like a second-level cultivator defeating a fourth-level opponent. It looked like a skilled fighter toying with an amateur.
Chen Feng returned to the waiting area, ignoring the stares. He had six more preliminary matches ahead of him.
He won them all.
By the time the preliminaries concluded, Chen Feng had advanced to the main tournament without taking a single significant hit. His opponents had been stronger, some significantly so, but strength meant nothing if it couldn't connect.
And each victory fed the rumors growing in the stands.
"Did you see his movement technique?" "How is he draining their energy like that?" "His cultivation feels wrong somehow..." "Maybe he's been hiding his true level?"
Chen Feng sat in his designated area, conserving energy for the matches ahead. The main tournament would be different his opponents would be the best of the outer disciples, many from influential families with access to superior techniques and resources.
But he wasn't the same person who had knelt in the punishment hall three months ago.
A shadow fell across him. Chen Feng looked up to find Zhao Tian standing there, his expression unreadable.
"Impressive performance," the young master said. "I admit, I underestimated you. Reaching the second level and developing such skill in only three months... remarkable."
"Thank you."
"Of course, the main tournament will be significantly more challenging. Your opponents won't fall for the same tricks."
"I'm aware."
Zhao Tian smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I look forward to our match, Chen Feng. Should we face each other, I promise to show you the gap that still exists between us."
He walked away before Chen Feng could respond.
Lin Mei approached once Zhao Tian was gone. "You've made quite the impression. Half the sect is trying to figure out where you've been hiding your talent."
"I wasn't hiding anything. I was simply preparing."
"Well, your preparation certainly paid off." She paused. "Chen Feng, I wanted to say... I'm sorry. For not believing in you more. For keeping my distance to protect my own reputation. That was cowardly."
Chen Feng shook his head. "You were pragmatic. There's no shame in that. You owe me nothing, Senior Sister Lin."
"Still. Thank you for proving me wrong." She smiled. "Now go show them what the 'waste' of Azure Peak can really do."
The main tournament bracket was announced. Chen Feng examined the pairings, calculating likely matches and potential threats.
His first opponent would be a fifth-level cultivator specializing in spear techniques.
His potential second-round opponent was a sixth-level practitioner of palm strikes.
And if he made it to the quarter-finals...
Zhao Tian, eighth level of Qi Condensation, wielding the Zhao family's famous Lightning Blade technique.
Chen Feng smiled.
He had spent five years at the bottom, invisible and dismissed.
Now, everyone would watch as he climbed.