The final day of the Tri-Clan Trial was unnaturally quiet.
A strange, oppressive truce had fallen over the entire valley. The disciples, who had spent the past week in a frenzy of conflict and competition, now moved with a listless lethargy. The hunt was over. The game had been won by a player they hadn't known existed, and the revelation had shattered their collective will to compete.
Jian Liwei sat alone on a fallen log, staring blankly at his saber. His followers, who had once orbited him like moths to a flame, now kept a respectful, fearful distance. The memory of Jian Feng's aura—that vast, profound, and perfect pressure—had re-contextualized every boast Liwei had ever made, turning his pride to ash in his mouth. He had been a strutting peacock, completely unaware that a true dragon was watching him from the clouds.
The disciples from the Tiger and Tortoise clans were no different. They now looked at the Azure Dragon disciples not with rivalry, but with a new, complicated emotion that mixed awe with a deep-seated fear. They spoke in hushed whispers, not about their victories, but about the "Ghost of the Azure Dragon." The legend was no longer a myth; it had a face, and that face was one of calm, terrifying superiority.
Jian Qiao, for her part, felt a quiet sense of vindication. She watched the changed dynamics, the fallen pride of the arrogant, and the bewildered fear in the eyes of the strong. She knew she had been witness to the beginning of a new era for their generation.
And where was the cause of this valley-wide psychological collapse?
Jian Feng was sitting peacefully beside a crystal-clear stream on the valley's eastern edge. The water tumbled over smooth stones, its gentle burble the only sound for miles. He was not celebrating his victory. He was not reflecting on the humiliation of his rivals. He was cultivating.
He meticulously cycled his Origin Qi, not to increase its quantity—he was already at the absolute peak of his realm—but to enhance its quality, polishing his control to an ever-finer degree. His victory in the trial was already a past event in his mind, a data point to be logged and learned from. His focus, as always, was on the next step of the path, the endless pursuit of perfection. He had analyzed the emotional reactions of his peers, classifying their pride and rage as exploitable variables for future encounters. His mind was already moving on to the far larger and more complex game that awaited him outside this valley.
At precisely midday, a deep, resonant hum filled the air. The great, shimmering barrier that had sealed the valley began to dissolve into shimmering motes of light. The voices of the three lead elders boomed in unison, "The Tri-Clan Trial has concluded! All disciples, return to the plateau at once!"
The command was a relief to the weary disciples. Three subdued groups emerged from the forest, their earlier vigor replaced by a somber procession. They assembled on the plateau where their clan vessels waited. The elders immediately sensed the bizarre atmosphere. The usual post-trial taunts and boasts were absent, replaced by a heavy, almost funereal silence.
Jian Feng arrived last, his pace unhurried. He walked calmly to the Azure Dragon Clan's designated area and stood at the back, his expression as placid as if he'd just returned from a relaxing stroll. Yet, his presence was a gravitational well. Every disciple, regardless of their clan, was acutely aware of him, their gazes darting towards him before quickly looking away.
The Black Tortoise Elder stepped forward to begin the final tally. "Present your spoils for accounting."
The Raging Tiger Clan went first. Hu Jin, his face grim, presented their collection of beast cores and herbs. Their total was a respectable 2,100 points. The Black Tortoise Clan followed, their haul slightly larger due to their methodical nature, totaling 2,400 points.
Then, it was the Azure Dragon Clan's turn. The Third Elder looked at his disciples. "Jian Liwei, present your gains."
Jian Liwei flinched. With shamefaced reluctance, he and the other main disciples laid out their collection. It was pitifully small. "One thousand and fifty points," he mumbled, unable to meet the elder's gaze.
The Third Elder's face darkened with disappointment and anger. To come in last, and by such a margin… it was a disgrace. "Is this all?" he demanded, his voice dangerously low. "This is the result of your efforts?"
Before Liwei could answer, Jian Feng took a single, quiet step forward.
He didn't speak. He simply reached into the small, unassuming spatial pouch at his waist and began to place items on the ground before the stunned elders.
First came a pile of shimmering Nine-Petal Spirit Lilies. Then, a dozen vials of priceless, silvery blood from an Iron-Skinned Pangolin. Then, a small mountain of dark Shadow-Lotuses. The elders' eyes widened at the sheer value of the alchemical ingredients.
Then came the tokens. He placed down the first Dragon's Vein Token. Then the second. The disciples gasped. The elders leaned forward, their breath catching in their throats.
Finally, with a soft thud, he placed the gleaming Golden Dragon's Vein Token on the very top of the pile.
The plateau, which had been silent before, was now so quiet it felt like the world had lost its sound. The golden token pulsed with a light that seemed to suck all other colors from the air. It was the ultimate symbol of victory, a prize that hadn't been claimed in over a century.
The three lead elders stared, their mouths agape, at the mountain of treasures. They looked at the pathetic pile from the main group, then at the king's ransom laid out by a single disciple. They looked at the boy whose file described him as a 'failed prodigy with a damaged foundation'.
The Third Elder turned to Jian Feng, his voice a choked whisper, filled with a dawning comprehension that bordered on terror.
"Jian Feng… what is this?"
Jian Feng met his gaze. "My contribution to the glory of the clan."