"UGHHHH—WHY! WHY IS IT ALWAYS ME?!"
Feng Yumo's screams echoed through the courtyard as his blanket was ripped away like his last shred of hope.
Chen Chao stood over him with arms crossed and a deadpan expression.
"Get up."
"Bro, please… the sun hasn't even come out yet!"
"You said that yesterday."
"I'm ten! I'm supposed to be asleep right now!"
"You're ten. You're supposed to be training."
Yumo rolled off the bed like a broken ragdoll, groaning all the way to the floor. "You're a monster, Chen Chao… A cultivation freak…"
Chen Chao tilted his head. "Then hurry up. Freaks train early."
Down in the training courtyard, the stone tiles were still cool from the night breeze. But standing in the center of the courtyard was a mountain of a man.
Bald. White beard. Skin dark from years of sun. Muscles like sculpted stone. Shirtless. Covered in long, jagged scars that told stories even war scrolls couldn't.
That was Uncle Hei.
A body cultivator in the Qi Vein Realm. An elder from the outer sect. Famous for breaking ironwood trees with his fists. And also for terrifying kids.
He grunted when he saw the boys.
"Took you long enough," he rumbled. His voice sounded like boulders grinding together.
Yumo froze. "He's bigger than yesterday…"
Chen Chao bowed calmly. "Good morning, Uncle Hei."
Yumo half-bowed, half-hid behind Chen Chao. "G-Good morning, uncle…"
Uncle Hei scratched a scar on his chest. "See these? Each one's a lesson. A real man doesn't erase his battles. Could've healed 'em all with pills, but where's the pride in that?"
He reached down and tossed two heavy wooden poles in front of them.
"Today—balance, control, power. Learn to move your body like a weapon. And if you cry…" he smirked, "you'll be doing ten extra laps with logs tied to your backs."
Yumo gulped. "Can I at least cry silently?"
The training was hell.
They started with stances. Long, wide stances that made their thighs burn. Then came movement drills, weight training, sparring footwork, and finally form repetition.
Chen Chao was calm the whole time. Sweat poured, but his face stayed emotionless. His focus was sharp—razor-sharp. His grip never loosened. His breathing was steady. Every time Uncle Hei corrected a movement, he adjusted instantly. Like a machine.
Yumo… wasn't doing so well.
He tripped five times. Almost crushed his foot. Dropped the training pole on his own head once.
But he didn't quit. Even as his arms shook like jelly, even as his legs wobbled, he kept moving.
By the end of it, Uncle Hei grunted and actually gave them a rare nod. "Hmph. Good. One of you's a beast. The other's a cockroach that refuses to die. I can work with that."
At the edge of the field, Head Maid Chen Xuelan stood with her arms folded, observing quietly. Her cold gaze softened just a little watching the boys.
Meanwhile, far from the Chen Clan's training courtyard…
Up in the central peak that pierced through the clouds like a divine spear—Sectarian Peak.
Inside a grand black hall carved from obsidian jade, saturated with heavy Qi and ancient runes, an old man sat cross-legged on a dais, shrouded in a fog of violet essence.
This was Daoist Mo Yuan, Supreme Elder of the Sectarian Faction. One of the few true Dao Beings in the sectarian faction.
Suddenly, a ripple stirred in the air. A man, cloaked in shadows, appeared kneeling respectfully before the elder.
"Reporting, Supreme Elder."
Mo Yuan didn't open his eyes, but his voice rumbled low, calm, and sharp. "Speak."
The shadow agent bowed deeper. "This generation… your grandson's competitors are formidable. The main clans are nurturing many promising seedlings."
Mo Yuan's brows twitched. "Hmph. It's been nearly six thousand years since one of ours took the Sect Master's seat."
He opened his eyes. They glowed faintly like burning stars.
"This generation… we must seize it."
He clenched his fist slowly.
"The three clans are growing too bold. Too strong. They dominate the council votes. Their bloodlines are tightening their grip around the sect's throat. If my grandson doesn't rise now, we may never get another chance."
The shadow nodded. "Understood. I have watched them closely. Most of the main clan's children are talented, but their abilities won't be confirmed until the talent test in two years."
Mo Yuan narrowed his eyes. "And the Sect Master's son?"
The shadow was silent for a beat.
Then said slowly, "...He is the most dangerous one of them all."
Mo Yuan's eyes flashed.
"I observed him for the past two weeks. He trains before dawn. He follows strict martial routines. Never flinches. Never slows. His dedication is unnatural—even among adults."
The elder fell into silence, expression unreadable.
"Even among the current crop of young geniuses who've already awakened their talents," the shadow added, "none of them possess his resolve. His willpower is…" he hesitated, "...frightening."
The fog around Mo Yuan pulsed.
He knew his shadow didn't exaggerate. Never had.
"We will see," he said finally, voice as quiet as a blade sliding from a sheath. "Before the council decides, anything can happen…"
He closed his eyes once more.