The words that escaped Wen Ran’s lips were sharp, cutting through the air like a thousand blades. Even someone as powerful as the Vice Sect Master felt an unfamiliar tremor of fear stir deep within him. He couldn’t explain why, but he knew this voice belonged to Wen Ran, and he had most likely discovered that all of his stolen treasures were now safely tucked away in his personal spirit pouch.
What he couldn’t understand, though, was the sheer magnitude of the hatred Wen Ran had unleashed. All he had taken were some spirit stones and a few old items—practically garbage in the grand scheme of things. Yet, for some reason, Wen Ran had decided to hold onto them, to use them as fuel for a revenge.
The Vice Sect Master couldn’t fathom why Wen Ran was reacting this way over such trivial things, especially when the loss of the stone tablet—the key to identifying new disciple talents—was what truly stung. But he couldn’t find another like it, one that could so accurately measure the abilities of new disciples.
The Vice Sect Master’s face twisted into an ugly scowl, but even more than the frustration, there was an intense, seething humiliation. How dare a mere junior, someone who still had his mother’s milk on his lips, cause such havoc in my sect? The thought burned him to his core. This defiance was unacceptable, and he would not stand for it.
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The power that exploded from him, a force so immense it should have easily overpowered Wen Ran’s aura, surged forth with devastating intensity. But to his shock and growing desperation, Wen Ran’s aura not only held its ground—it fought back. The Vice Sect Master, despite his overwhelming strength, found himself losing this battle of auras, feeling the pressure of Wen Ran’s presence closing in on him like an unrelenting storm.
"What the hell!?" The Vice Sect Master screamed, his voice thick with fear and disbelief. He wasn’t prepared to be humiliated by some worm. With a roar of fury, he thrust his energy forward, blasting the door off its hinges and sending it flying toward Wen Ran. But Wen Ran barely raised a hand, his fist clenched as he struck out with effortless power, crushing the door into splinters with a single punch.
His eyes, now glowing with an unearthly intensity, made him appear more like a demon than a man. To the elders who watched, it was as if the very essence of death and rage had taken form in front of them.
"Junior, hold your steps! Are you rebelling against the sect?!" The Vice Sect Master shouted, his voice no longer certain, now trembling with an edge of fear. This shift in his demeanor sent a wave of unease through the other elders, who stood frozen in place. How could someone at the Nascent Soul level, one of the sect’s strongest beings, be reduced to fear by a junior?
Wen Ran’s lips curled into a slow, sinister smile, his expression growing colder by the second. The flickering candlelight from the walls caught his face just right, casting shadows that made his features seem even more terrifying.
"Oh?" Wen Ran’s voice was soft, dripping with a quiet menace. The smile that spread across his face was filled with malice, and the coldness in his eyes seemed to pierce the very souls of everyone around him.
"Are we talking about rebellions now?" Wen Ran’s voice was smooth, but filled with venom. "Then let me ask, honorable Vice Sect Master, how dare somebody at your level steal from a mere junior like me and still have the face to accuse me of rebellion? If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you have a very thick face." His words cut through the air like a sharp blade, and as they landed, the other six elders exchanged stunned looks.
The Vice Sect Master stole from a mere junior? The thought hung in the air like a heavy cloud. How humiliating was that for a powerful and respected sect like theirs? They couldn’t believe what they were hearing. But none of them dared to speak out loud—after all, they had their own positions to maintain, and they knew the consequences of questioning the Vice Sect Master.
"How dare you, a mere trash at Spirit Flow stage, accuse me of crimes I’ve never committed?" The Vice Sect Master’s voice rose in fury, but there was a tremor in it—a fear he couldn’t suppress. "And even if I did, what right do you have to speak?!" His lips quivered, and the fat on his face shook with rage and the embarrassment of being confronted so publicly. The fear of being judged by others was obvious on him, and it made his authority seem fragile in the eyes of the others.
Wen Ran’s eyes darkened. Without a word, he extended his hand, and the vile, oppressive aura around him suddenly revealed itself for just a second. The sheer force of it made everyone in the room freeze, their hearts dropping into their stomachs. But before Wen Ran could take the next step, a powerful invisible pressure slammed into him from the side, knocking him unconscious with brutal force.
Suddenly, an old man stepped into the room slowly, his aura fiery and unmistakable. The air seemed to crackle around him, and the scent of spiritual herbs and pills followed him like an ethereal cloud. It was his master. His presence was so overwhelming that the very walls of the building seemed to bow under the weight of his power.
The old man had been passing by when he felt the familiar, dangerous killing intent radiating from Wen Ran. It sent a chill through his spine, and he immediately realized what was happening. Wen Ran’s demonic cultivation path, if exposed, would destroy everything he had worked for. This was the most extraordinary talent he had ever encountered, and if Wen Ran’s true power became known, the sect would never allow him to grow up. And so, he couldn’t let that happen.
The six elders, still struggling to recover from the oppressive aura Wen Ran had released, suddenly dropped to their knees. Their faces drained of color as the realization hit them—the man who had just entered was not just any elder. He wielded as much authority and power in the sect as the Sect Master himself.
"Juniors greet Venerable Pill Immortal!" The elders bowed deeply, not daring to lift their heads. Even the Vice Sect Master, who was usually a figure of immense power, dropped to his knees, his face filled with dread. He was powerful, but his respect for this man surpassed everything.
The old man’s gaze swept over them all, his eyes cold and filled with fury. "Junior greets—"
Before he could finish, a resounding slap echoed through the room, the force of it making the air tremble. The Vice Sect Master’s face was slapped so hard that he was sent crashing through the wall, his body plummeting to the other side.
The room fell silent, the echoes of the slap still hanging in the air.
"How dare you mess with my personal disciple!" The old man’s voice was ice-cold, his fury no longer contained.