Morning light spilled through the trees, casting dappled shadows outside a worn wooden hut at the edge of the Rising Cloud Sect's outer court.
Inside, Ling Xian sat cross-legged on the floor, his eyes closed as he absorbed the faint qi drifting through the surroundings. His breath was steady, his presence calm. But the peace was short-lived.
"Ling Xian!"
A sharp, hostile voice rang out.
From the stone path, a familiar figure stormed forward — Luo Feng, the same arrogant disciple who had once joined in beating Ling Xian half to death. Behind him came two others, faces filled with malice and mockery.
"You've been acting real quiet lately," Luo Feng said with a sneer. "But some of us haven't forgotten your place."
Ling Xian opened his eyes slowly.
Still seated, he glanced at them with an expression devoid of fear or irritation — only indifference.
"You should turn around," he said flatly. "Before something happens you'll regret."
Luo Feng laughed. "What? You think looking a bit different makes you a tough guy now?"
A small crowd of outer disciples had begun gathering in the distance, murmuring as they recognized who was about to get involved.
Without waiting for a reply, Luo Feng raised his fist.
"You should've stayed down like the trash you were!"
He charged.
Ling Xian didn't flinch.
In a flash, he rose from the ground with frightening speed. One step forward — and the air cracked.
A single palm met Luo Feng's chest.
BOOM.
Luo Feng's body flew back like a ragdoll, crashing into a nearby tree trunk with a gut-wrenching sound. Blood sprayed from his mouth as he slumped to the ground, his chest caved in slightly.
The two lackeys froze.
"You're next," Ling Xian said coldly.
The second disciple screamed and lashed out with a sword — sloppy, panicked.
Ling Xian sidestepped it with ease and grabbed his arm mid-swing. A sickening snap followed as the bone twisted backward. The disciple dropped to the ground, howling in pain.
The third disciple barely raised his hand before Ling Xian's glare landed on him.
He stopped cold.
Dropped to his knees.
"I—I'm sorry! I didn't mean—!"
Ling Xian turned his back and walked toward his hut.
His voice, calm and chilling, echoed behind him.
"Let this be known — anyone who raises a hand against me again... will be crippled or killed. I do not forgive twice."
The scattered crowd stood stunned.
They had expected the same weakling from before.
What they saw instead… was a predator among prey.
That afternoon, a disciple in grey robes approached Ling Xian's hut with a scroll in hand.
"The Outer Court Elder, Zhou Yuan, has summoned you."