Wen Ran and Luo Feng moved quickly. Before anyone could even process what had happened, the two of them were already soaring through the sky on Luo Feng’s flying sword.
"Brother Wen Ran, aren’t you a little curious about the mess you’ve gotten yourself into?" Luo Feng asked, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips. He wanted to see Wen Ran sweat a little, to watch how he would handle the problem. To him, this was the perfect entertainment.
"What do you mean, Brother Feng?" Wen Ran asked, genuinely confused. He had noticed the strange looks people were throwing at him, but he had simply brushed them off, not paying much attention.
"So you don’t know yet, huh..." Luo Feng said, tapping his chin thoughtfully, as if weighing something in his mind.
Wen Ran shot him a confused glance. Information was key, and if he had done something to provoke someone, he needed to know about it. At least then, he could prepare for what was coming.
"Brother Feng, would you mind enlightening this junior with your knowledge?" Wen Ran asked, trying to sound sincere, but it came out more like a demand.
"Heh, brother, don’t you know you must pay a price for asking questions?" Luo Feng chuckled, enjoying the moment. "I heard you’ve been holed up making pills. How about you spare me some, and I’ll tell you everything you need to know." He looked ahead, his face full of pride. After all, it was a fair trade—robbing his junior a little was a good price for interrupting his beauty sleep.
But when he glanced back to Wen Ran, his confident smile faltered. The boy was nowhere to be seen.
Luo Feng’s heart skipped a beat, and his face went pale with sudden realization.
"Where the hell did he go?" Luo Feng muttered under his breath, his eyes darting around in confusion. His flying sword still soared along side him, but the passenger who had been riding alongside him was suddenly gone. What he didn’t know was that an unseen, mysterious force had seized Wen Ran from the air, pinning him in place. His body was frozen, unable to move, and not even a whisper could escape his lips.
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A tall man approached from the distance, his figure growing clearer with every step. His eyes were cold, gleaming with a murderous glint, and the way he looked at Wen Ran—it was as if the boy was already a dead man. Despite the chilling aura of impending doom, Wen Ran’s face remained steady, his gaze unwavering.
Who is he? Wen Ran thought as he strained against the invisible bindings holding him in the air. No matter how hard he tried, his body refused to obey. He felt an overwhelming pressure, but panic had yet to seize him. Instead, he focused, calculating his next move. Whoever this is, they’re no ordinary expert. I need to figure out what I did to provoke him—what did I miss?
Spirit Refinement Realm... middle stage? No... late stage, at least the seventh circle. My chances are near zero. Wen Ran’s mind raced, assessing the situation. His bulky build likely means he’s a close-combat fighter... This will be troublesome, but not entirely impossible to survive. If I had my sword, this would be an entirely different story.
He clenched his fists, trying to remain calm and strategize. I can’t afford to panic, not yet. If this is the sect, there’s no way they’d allow someone to kill me here—at least, I hope not. But getting beaten to a pulp is out of the question. I will never allow someone to trample my pride, not like this, especially not from some junior at this level.
As the man drew closer, Wen Ran’s thoughts swirled faster. He had to outthink this situation, find a way out, or at least survive the encounter. He wouldn’t go down without a fight—his pride wouldn’t let him.
"Are you Wen Ran?" The man’s voice rumbled through the air, deep and commanding, like the voice of someone at least forty years old, not a junior. But from the man’s appearance, Wen Ran could tell he was young. Yet, the weight of the words, the authority in them, left no room for doubt—this wasn’t a question. It was an order. The intensity in the man’s eyes burned with such murderous intent that Wen Ran knew with absolute certainty: if he didn’t find a way out, or if Luo Feng didn’t intervene, he would die here today.
"Let’s say I am, and so what? Does Senior have some advice for me?" Wen Ran’s voice was laced with malice, every syllable dripping with defiance. He wasn’t about to let anyone treat him like a dog, not now, not ever. His spiritual energy was already stirring within him, churning and twisting, devouring the energy that bound him. Though it was a slow process, he could feel the restraints loosening bit by bit. His powers, though hidden for now, were perfect for moments like this.
"Sharp tongue," the man said with a wild grin, his expression twisted in amusement. "No wonder you go around beating people up for no reason, as I’ve heard." He clearly enjoyed Wen Ran’s defiance, a dark glint of admiration in his eyes. "It’s a pity, really. I quite like your character. Name’s Zhang Dawei, remember it in your death." The smile faded as he took a step forward, his gaze sharpening. "But since you’ve provoked the wrong person, don’t blame me for acting as judge and sending you to the afterlife. Just remember, in your next life, learn to be more respectful to the strong."
The man’s fist began to glow with an intense, bright blue light, taking shape, swirling into the form of a dragon’s head. The power crackled around it as the fist surged toward Wen Ran with terrifying speed, a lethal force that could end him in an instant.
But in that crucial moment, Wen Ran’s spiritual energy surged to life, breaking through the restraints just in time. With a burst of raw power, he dropped to the ground, narrowly avoiding the incoming dragon’s head. As he hit the earth, his own attack surged forward, a strike aimed squarely at the man’s belly.