Inside an elegant hall—though clearly mundane when compared to the great clans or sects—a short, somewhat plump man paced back and forth with his hands clasped behind his back. His fine robes, embroidered with silver threads, made his wealth evident, but his expression was far from dignified. Each step revealed his unease.

  Also present in the hall were two middle-aged men seated to one side with their arms crossed and brows furrowed, as well as an elderly man with completely white hair resting in a wide chair. Though he kept his eyes half-closed.

  The short man continued pacing, the rhythmic sound of his shoes against the polished floor gradually becoming irritating.

  At last, a young man of about seventeen, with sharp features and a proud bearing, let out a sigh and straightened slightly.

  “Father, the people from the Eight Heavenly Peaks Sect will not come. Why would a disciple from such a great sect accept a request like this?” His tone mixed frustration. “Let me go seek one of my seniors. We can deal with those bandits ourselves.”

  The short man stopped and slowly turned his head toward his son. He observed him for a few seconds before replying.

  “You don’t understand. Precisely because it is a great sect, it is worth trying. Even if they only send an outer disciple, it would be enough to deter many. The name of the sect weighs more than a hundred guards in this city.”

  He shifted his gaze toward the elderly man.

  “Besides, those bandits are not simple road thieves. We have already lost three caravans. There is something… strange behind all of this.”

  The young man pressed his lips together but did not argue further.

  Outside, the sun descended slowly. Inside the hall, the tension rose.

  The head of the Han family exhaled heavily. The request sent to the Eight Heavenly Peaks Sect had not been cheap. Favors, connections, and a considerable sum of wealth had left the family’s coffers. If no one came, they would lose not only resources, but prestige.

  At that moment, the doors burst open.

  A servant rushed in, his face pale.

  “Master Han! Someone at the gates just knocked Guard Xu down with a single blow! This servant did not dare approach and came straight here.”

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  The hall fell silent—but only for an instant.

  “What?!”

  “Who dares act violently against the Han merchant family?”

  “Audacious bastard!”

  The two middle-aged men stood up at once.

  “Who thinks himself so brave?”

  “Seems someone is tired of living.”

  Head Han did not shout. He stepped down the stairs with steady strides.

  “Let us see what is happening.”

  His brothers followed, still furious. The young man walked behind them, eyes sharp.

  Upon reaching the main entrance, Head Han saw the scene clearly.

  A young man was squatting beside Guard Xu, who lay unconscious on the ground. With complete calm, he was nudging the man’s head with a thin branch, as if examining merchandise.

  The two brothers exploded in indignation and immediately advanced, raising their voices in the tone of men accustomed to imposing authority.

  Head Han, however, stopped.

  The youth set the branch aside and stood up. He was even younger than his own son. He wore an elegant robe, without ostentation. His posture was straight. His skin fair. His dark hair streaked with strands of gold. His golden, deep eyes showed no nervousness.

  He was enjoying himself.

  That was the impression Head Han received.

  Then his gaze dropped to the young man’s waist.

  A token.

  The engraved symbol was unmistakable.

  The Eight Heavenly Peaks Sect.

  The voices of his brothers began to fade in relevance before that single thought.

  Jin heard the approaching footsteps and rose naturally, brushing dust from his hands. He observed the group emerging through the gate.

  Two men in front, visibly irritated. Behind them, the short, sturdy man—clearly the head. Further back, a young man about his own age.

  Jin assessed the hierarchy within seconds.

  While the two men began shouting at him, accusing him of insolence, Jin barely looked at them. He did not respond. He did not frown. His attention remained fixed on the short man.

  The brothers stepped forward, their auras stirring.

  The young man then advanced and raised a hand.

  “Uncles, please. It is not good to lose control so easily. Allow me to handle this.”

  Then he looked directly at Jin.

  There was no mockery in his eyes. Nor fear.

  “Friend, I do not know what brings you before my Han family, but it is not proper to strike our people without reason.”

  Jin raised an eyebrow slightly and pointed his thumb at the unconscious guard.

  “Mm… but there is a reason.”

  “What reason could there be to strike someone like that?”

  “Why not? He insulted me… and I did not like the look of him.”

  The irony in his tone was evident.

  The two men grew even more indignant. The young man’s gaze hardened, though he maintained control.

  “Even so, that is not grounds to strike someone.”

  Jin tilted his head slightly.

  “Mmmm… I can see you are a fellow cultivator, and still young. You must belong to some sect, don’t you? I imagine that if someone… some guard or peasant wounded your pride, you would also resort to violence.”

  Young Han understood the implication. His expression tightened.

  Jin noticed the change and smiled.

  “At last… we will have a bit of fun,” he thought.

  The atmosphere grew heavier. The uncles were ready to intervene. The heir was about to step forward.

  Then the short man moved quickly.

  Without warning, he raised his hand and struck his own son on the head.

  The sound was clear.

  The young man stiffened. His uncles froze.

  Jin blinked.

  That… was not in the script he had expected.