The Bai Clan forces descended like a dark tide, the air crackling with power as they followed Bai Zihan through the skies toward the Mei Clan compound.
The streets of Meihua City were deserted, its citizens hiding behind closed doors, shivering in fear as the infamous Young Master of the Bai Clan passed overhead.
Mei Rulan walked at the back, head bowed, steps unsteady.
Her hands wouldn’t stop trembling.
She could still feel the weight of her father’s glare—like a sword piercing through her spine.
It was over!
She’d doomed them all.
And it was because of her greed.
As the grand gates of the Mei Clan opened, a parade of elders, stewards, and disciples lined up in silence.
No one dared to speak.
Bai Zihan stood at the front, looking over them with that same casual smirk.
“So this is the mighty Mei Clan…”
He remarked sarcastically.
Well, compared to the Bai Clan, the Mei Clan couldn’t even begin to compare.
Their mansions were like huts next to the Bai Clan’s towering palaces.
“Kind of underwhelming, don’t you think?”
No one from the Mei Clan responded. They didn’t dare even if they knew that they were looked down on.
Though would you even call it looking down on when it was the reality?
Anyway, they continued toward the Mei Clan’s Main Hall.
Red carpets had been rolled out. Incense burned in ornate golden burners.
Servants moved like the wind, setting down trays of spirit fruits, rare teas, and crystal cups filled with glimmering nectar.
The best of their reserves—plucked straight from the Clan Leader’s personal treasury.
Top-grade spiritual peaches, luminous jade grapes, and Golden Mist Tea brewed from leaves over a hundred years old.
To most guests, this would’ve been a royal reception.
To the Bai Clan?
It was just barely passable.
Such things can only be said to be normal or even subpar compared to what they have at Bai Clan.
Not like they were expecting anything different from a small clan like the Mei Clan.
Bai Zihan sat at the head of the Main Hall with one leg lazily draped over the other, swirling a cup of tea without drinking it.
The smile on his lips was calm—but the air around him was suffocating.
All the Mei Clan disciples and elders stood stiffly in two orderly rows.
Every one of them had been instructed to show full respect.
Bow low. Speak politely. Don’t speak unless asked.
They followed the orders to the letter.
Even the most hot-blooded ones, who had burned with indignation earlier, kept their heads down.
They didn’t dare provoke the sleeping tiger.
At the far end, Mei Yunhe stood personally beside Bai Zihan, pouring tea himself.
He looked less like a respected Clan Leader and more like a servant.
“Please forgive the humble offerings, Young Master Bai,” he said.
“We’ve provided the best our clan has to offer.”
Bai Zihan raised an eyebrow.
“Oh? This is the best?”
“Yes,” Mei Yunhe nodded quickly.
“Though I know it may not compare to the Bai Clan’s standards, it is—”
“It’s fine!”
Bai Zihan waved a hand, cutting him off mid-sentence.
He popped a single jade grape into his mouth and chewed slowly.
“It’s not complete trash.”
Mei Yunhe bowed again.
“Your grace humbles us!”
The Mei Clan was throwing everything at them, and it still looked like a pauper entertaining nobles.
But Mei Yunhe didn’t falter.
He ordered more delicacies brought forward, instructed musicians to play soft guqin melodies in the background, and even offered several clan treasures as “tokens of apology”—all while smiling like this was just a friendly diplomatic visit.
But everyone knew the truth.
This wasn’t hospitality.
It was survival.
Just as another tray of spirit fruit was laid before Bai Zihan, the heavy silence of the Main Hall was shattered.
“Let me go!”
An angry voice sounded from outside the Main hall of Mei Clan.
“Please, don’t go!”
“Clan Leader has forbidden anyone to enter!”
It looked like the guards of Mei Clan were trying to stop the intruder though they failed.
BOOM!
A blast echoed through the air as the ornate main doors slammed open, cracking the intricate carvings along the frame.
A violent gust of wind tore through the hall, scattering incense smoke and rattling teacups.
Ding!
[Heaven’s Chosen Detected!]
A system notification popped up, alerting Bai Zihan to the presence of a Heaven’s Chosen.
He didn’t even flinch.
He didn’t look surprised.
If anything, he looked… amused.
His red eyes slowly turned toward the entrance, a flicker of curiosity surfacing beneath his lazy smirk.
“…Now that’s more like it.”
If it had been before, he might’ve been nervous—going up against a Protagonist was never a good idea.
But not this time.
He’d come here with elders not just to oversee the Mei Clan’s destruction, but to sniff out any Heaven’s Chosen who might return seeking revenge.
Looks like that was a good call. Even in a minor clan like the Mei Clan, one had shown up.
[Analyzing…]
********************
Name: Mo Yichen
Age: 18
Fate Grade: ★ (One Star)
Cultivation Base: Golden Core (Early)
Destiny:
Mo Yichen has obtained a mysterious sword of unknown origin—an evolving divine weapon that grows alongside its wielder.
As long as the right materials are found, it can absorb them and evolve to the next grade. Its potential is limitless.
Through it, his swordsmanship advances at a terrifying pace, allowing him to dominate opponents far above his level.
So long as the sword continues to evolve…
So will he.
********************
A low chuckle escaped Bai Zihan’s throat.
This time, the Protagonist seemed to be the least favored among the Heaven’s Chosen.
Understandable. If his only cheat was a powerful weapon, then his one-star fate grade made perfect sense.
Sure, it was a divine weapon that could carry him far, but that’s all he had.
Strip it away, and he was just another decent cultivator. Nothing more.
No wonder the heavens gave him just one star.
Still… Bai Zihan’s eyes narrowed.
That guy wasn’t from the Mei Clan. So why was this guy here?
Whatever the reason—this was getting interesting.
The Bai Clan elders exchanged glances, subtly shifting into defensive positions—but held their ground, waiting for orders.
From the swirling dust at the entrance, a silhouette emerged.
Tall. Confident. Completely unbothered by the oppressive spiritual Qi flooding the hall—even as an early-stage Golden Core cultivator.
Clad in sleek black robes embroidered with silver thread, the newcomer strode forward with the calm arrogance of someone who knew exactly how strong they were—and didn’t give a damn who else was watching.
A sword hung at their hip, pulsing faintly with sword intent. Every step they took seemed to compress the air around them.
Mei Yunhe’s eyes widened.
“You! What are you doing here?!”
He finally thought that he had appeased the great calamity, only to be destroyed by someone.
Even if that someone was a great benefactor of Mei Clan, he can’t be nice to him.
Mo Yichen didn’t answer.
He walked straight down the central carpet—ignoring gasps, glares, and the presence of Bai Clan elders—until they stood just a few feet away from Bai Zihan’s seat.
Their gazes locked.
Bai Zihan leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm.
“You’ve got guts,” Bai Zihan said softly.
“Nobody seeks death like you do!”
Mo Yichen finally spoke. Voice calm. Clipped.
“Hmph! I’m not just a nobody then.”
The words weren’t loud—but they rang like thunder in the stunned silence.
Bai Zihan’s smile widened.
“Yeah. I can tell!”