After hours of travel in some forest of red trees and bushes, the faint hum of voices reached Nathan and Uriel.

  They emerged onto a plateau where hundreds of disciples had gathered.

  At its center lay a vast square formation carved into the stone, spanning nearly the width of the plateau. Its edges were etched with runes that pulsed faintly as they drew energy from the spirit qi vein buried below. The interior was shrouded in shadow, a darkness so dense that no eye could pierce it. Only the runes at the perimeter glowed, channeling the vein’s power upward in controlled streams of qi.

  The formation was more than a conduit—it was a safeguard. The spirit qi vein beneath was too fierce, its raw essence capable of overwhelming and destroying any cultivator who touched it directly. The square array sealed that danger away, allowing only fragments of qi to be safely siphoned for cultivation.

  Yet access to that filtered energy was strictly limited. Only disciples of the royal family and the ten great sects were permitted to sit within the glowing boundary, their bodies bathed in shimmering qi. The rest—minor sect disciples, wandering cultivators, and clan scions of lesser bloodlines—were forced to linger at the edges, watching with envy but never daring to cross the line. The law was absolute: to defy it was to invite annihilation, not just for oneself but for one’s entire sect. Fear alone kept the crowd obedient.

  Nathan and Uriel, however, proceeded forward, drawing attention and scrutiny from those not chosen.”

  "Who are those two?"

  "Do they not fear death?"

  "They are dressed in fine clothing, so they must be from a good family."

  "Even so, it's a death sentence to go against the royal family and major sects."

  Uriel’s flame aura flickered, his gaze locking on two figures near the formation’s heart. Their robes were embroidered with phoenixes, their bearing unmistakably royal. Cousins—sons of his royal uncle. He wanted to avoid them, the verbal abuse he knew would follow, but they spotted him instantly and decided to take the initiative to approach him.

  The taller one, Lyle, sneered. “So the bastard prince actually made it in here.”

  The other, Mark, laughed, his tone dripping with scorn. “And I see he even dragged along some nobody. Is this what the twentieth prince has been reduced to? Pathetic.”

  Whispers rippled through the crowd. Some disciples smirked, eager for drama. Others watched warily, sensing the tension between royal bloodlines.

  Uriel’s jaw tightened, white flames licking his arms. That was all Nathan needed to see. Silver Step blurred him forward, and his fist cracked against Mark’s face, sending him flying. Gasps erupted—some shocked, others entertained. For the disciples of the top sects, it was amusement: who was this fool daring to lay hands on royalty?

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  “You…” Lyle stuttered. “You dare—”

  The words barely left his mouth before Nathan struck him across the face, sending him sprawling.

  Nathan turned to Uriel with a grin. “Did you hear something, brother?”

  Uriel cursed inwardly. This fool. Yet he couldn’t deny the rush of relief. Normally, when members of the royal family bullied him, he endured in silence, focusing only on growing stronger. But Nathan’s defiance was like a breath of fresh air. Still, a knot twisted in his chest—he feared the retaliation that would surely come, yet he couldn’t deny the fierce satisfaction of seeing his tormentors humbled at last.

  “No,” Uriel said firmly.

  Lyle and Mark, though injured, charged at Nathan with flaming fists. But before their strikes could land, Nathan vanished. Silver Step carried him behind them, and with a single powerful blow he shattered bones, sending both cousins flying and vomiting blood.

  The crowd froze. These two were eighteen?year?old prodigies, tenth?rank Qi Condensation experts of the royal family. Yet this unknown youth had defeated them with ease. Even Uriel was impressed.

  Lyle and Mark glared at him with defiance, swearing in their hearts that when they get out of here, they'll make Nathan pay for this humiliation.

  “You bastard will pay for this,” Lyle spat, trembling.

  “You’ll wish you were never born,” Mark snarled.

  Nathan’s eyes gleamed coldly. “If I end you now, no trouble will remain.” His qi flared, and the cousins froze in terror. He stepped forward, intent clear—until Uriel stopped him. Not out of mercy, but pragmatism. Smacking royals could be smoothed over as youthful conflict. Killing them would bring the wrath of the royal family.

  “Since brother doesn’t want them dead, I’ll give them a chance,” Nathan said, lowering his hand. Then he turned to Mark and Lyle. “However, you two need to apologize to my brother.”

  Lyle and Mark stiffened. Apologize to this lowly worm? Unthinkable.

  “What are you waiting for? Apologize now, or I’ll bash your heads in.” Nathan feigned an attack, causing them to squeal and flinch. “Crawl on your knees and apologize to my brother.”

  Then Nathan’s aura erupted—twelfth?stage Qi Condensation, blazing silver light that pressed down like a mountain. The plateau fell silent. Even the wind seemed to halt, disciples frozen mid?breath as disbelief rippled through the crowd. These were prodigies of the royal family, yet before this youth’s overwhelming presence they trembled. Even Uriel’s eyes widened—he had known Nathan possessed skill, but never imagined his strength would eclipse his own, despite being the same age.

  Only after that stunned silence did the cousins finally collapse to their knees. They crawled to Uriel, smacked their heads against the ground, and muttered apologies, venom dripping from every word.

  “Good.” Nathan eased his pressure, then rested his arm around Uriel and pulled him closer to the spirit root. “Come, brother, let’s go cultivate.”

  Uriel rolled his eyes, but he didn’t refuse.

  As soon as they found a good spot, a disciple of one of the ten major sect the Xanh Sect approached, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Impressive, young master. If you don’t mind, could you tell me what sect you hail from?”

  Nathan’s gaze sharpened. “Scram, vile serpent, or I’ll smack your face in as well.”

  The disciple’s jaw clenched, but he stepped back. He was twenty two at the tenth stage of Qi Condensation himself, yet even he knew better than to challenge someone who had just humiliated royal prodigies.

  Nathan and Uriel sat cross?legged near the vein, silver qi and white flame shimmering faintly as they absorbed its power. Around them, whispers rippled—shock, gossip, envy—but eventually the crowd quieted.