The moment Bai Shaoyue spat out those two words—"Kill him."—the world seemed to freeze.
For a heartbeat, the air thickened.
Whispers died one by one.
The crowd of disciples tightened their circle, breath held as if the slightest sound might disrupt the ritual of violence unfolding before them.
Xuanyan quietly studied the three cultivators before him, and only now did the truth click into place.
Xiao Tianhao—the loudest of the trio—was the weakest, merely at Qi Condensation Stage 5.
Bai Shaoge stood a full 3 rank above him at Stage 8.
And Bai Shaoyue... she carried the oppressive aura of Stage Nine, the kind of presence that bent the atmosphere with a single annoyed breath.
The outcome of the battle had been obvious from the start.
Still, Xuanyan’s pulse quickened.
This would be his first real look at cultivators clashing in earnest—not in stories, not in memories, but right in front of his eyes.
Xiao Tianhao moved first, his feet blurring as he surged forward in a burst of speed that drew a sharp intake of breath from the crowd. A faint afterimage flickered beneath him, the telltale mark of a mid-tier Yellow-grade movement skill being pushed close to its limit. Xuanyan recognized it instantly. His system had already consumed every skill manual from the Outer Sect Pavilion, breaking them down into pure information. He couldn’t execute the techniques yet, but he understood them thoroughly—every flaw, every optimal usage, every way they failed when misused
Around the ring, outer sect disciples leaned forward without realizing it, bodies tense and eyes locked onto the clash like starving strays watching a butcher’s blade hover over fresh meat. No one wanted to miss the moment blood hit the ground
Xiao Tianhao closed the distance in an instant. They had already been close, but the acceleration was still impressive for his realm, fueled by anger rather than control. His face twisted violently, rage, desperation, and humiliation grinding together into something unstable and ugly. Less than a heartbeat passed before he struck again, this time forcing nearly seventy percent of his qi into his palm
It was a reckless decision, bordering on suicidal
The technique itself was only Yellow-grade, never meant to bear that much power, and the overload made his aura swell and distort. His qi turned jagged and uneven, vibrating violently around him and exuding the sharp, bitter stench of wounded pride. His eyes burned red, not from any special art, but from pure hatred as he swung his palm toward Bai Shaoge’s face with enough force to shatter bone
Bai Shaoge did nothing dramatic
He did not draw his sword, nor did he gather qi or harden his aura. He didn’t even change his expression. Instead, he shifted his foot slightly to the side, the movement so small and elegant that it looked almost careless, like someone stepping around a shallow puddle on a quiet street
Xiao Tianhao’s palm tore through empty air, the force of the missed strike releasing in a sharp whistle that echoed across the plaza. The realization hit him instantly. His balance was off, his qi was overcommitted, and retreat was the only rational option left to him
He never completed more than half a step
A fist drove into his abdomen with crushing precision, not fast enough to blur, not flashy enough to draw gasps, but heavy enough to fold his body inward like paper. It wasn’t a technique, and it didn’t need to be. It was pure physical strength guided by refined qi, the kind of blow that ignored pride and went straight for function. A choking cough burst from Xiao Tianhao’s throat as he was hurled backward, his body slamming into the ground hard enough to kick up a cloud of dust that drifted slowly through the air
The plaza fell into a stunned silence
Three seconds. That was all it had taken for the fight to end
Bai Shaoge walked forward at an unhurried pace, hands relaxed at his sides, expression untouched by excitement or anger. He looked mildly annoyed, as though he had been forced to deal with a minor inconvenience rather than an enemy. When he stopped in front of Xiao Tianhao, he glanced down at the fallen disciple with a faint smirk, eyes devoid of urgency or respect
Then he lifted his foot and drove a kick straight into Xiao Tianhao’s face
"Is that all?" Bai Shaoge murmured softly, his voice smooth and bored, carrying easily through the silence. "Pathetic. Even your whore had more stamina than you
Rage flared in Xiao Tianhao’s eyes as he tried to speak, but the words never came. Another kick snapped his head back violently, followed by another, and then another, each strike measured and impersonal. There was no fury in the motion, no satisfaction—only enforcement. It was the difference between a fight and a lesson being carved into flesh and bone
When Bai Shaoge finally stopped, Xiao Tianhao’s body sagged completely, limp and barely conscious, the will to fight drained from him as thoroughly as his pride
Xuanyan released a slow breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, the tension finally easing from his shoulders. The training plaza remained eerily quiet, no cheers or jeers daring to break the moment. He leaned slightly toward Ye Qingfeng, keeping his voice low and controlled
"Brother Ye... does this happen every morning?" Xuanyan asked quietly, eyes still on the ring where Xiao Tianhao lay unmoving.
Ye Qingfeng didn’t laugh, and he didn’t bother pretending the question was naive. He simply nodded, his expression grim and unsoftened by humor or denial
"It gets worse during tournaments," he replied evenly. After a brief pause, his voice lowered, carrying a warning meant only for Xuanyan’s ears. "And Brother Xuanyan, you must be cautious. People like Senior Brother Lan—those who stand at the top of the food chain—kill without hesitation. Sometimes without reason
Xuanyan absorbed that in silence, his gaze drifting briefly across the plaza, suddenly seeing the gathered disciples not as spectators, but as potential predators waiting their turn to climb higher
Behind them, the crowd finally erupted
Cheers broke out in uneven waves, voices raised in excitement as if Bai Shaoge had performed a sacred rite rather than a savage beating. Some praised his decisiveness. Others admired his strength. A few simply enjoyed the spectacle. No one spared a glance for the broken man on the ground
Bai Shaoge accepted the reaction with ease. He turned toward the crowd and offered them a charming smile, the kind that erased memory and softened conscience, as if moments ago he hadn’t been stomping another disciple into the dirt
Then he turned away
"We’re done," he said lightly, his tone casual, almost bored. "Let’s go
Bai Shaoyue nodded, her expression cool and unreadable, as though nothing of note had occurred. She didn’t look back at the ring, nor did she spare the fallen disciple a second glanced
Together, the siblings walked away from the arena, their backs straight, their steps unhurried, leaving behind dust and blood
.....
Across the training grounds, Xiao Tianhao lay motionless.
Not dead—he could sense that much—but stripped of every shred of dignity he had carried into the confrontation. His qi flickered weakly, the way a candle guttered after being struck by wind one time too many.
A group of outer-sect disciples rushed past Xuanyan, whispering feverishly among themselves as they hurried to lift the unconscious youth.
"Foolish."
"Why challenge Bai Shaoge of all people?"
"He must have had a death wish."
"He’ll be lucky if he ever walks properly again."
Their voices faded as they carried the young man away, leaving behind a silence that felt strangely hollow.
Bai Shaoge’s lazy smile lingered in his mind, effortless and untroubled. Bai Shaoyue’s flat, unamused eyes followed close behind, cold and distant, as though violence was little more than an inconvenience interrupting her day. And then there was the crowd—the way they had watched the beating with barely restrained fascination, eyes bright, breath quick, hungry for more.
This wasn’t outrage to them
It was entertainment to them.
It was ordinary.
It’s might looked Good in Novel, and now when he was here he can’t change overnight.he who come from earth where strength lies in society rather in single individual. His mentality can’t just changed overnight.
He exhales i really need to adapt as quick as possible he muttered internally.
He finally broke the silence. While moving toward Silver Bamboo Meal House.
"Brother Ye... is there no discipline for this kind of thing?"
Ye Qingfeng looked at Xuanyan’s like he was an idiot followed by something close to disbelief. For a moment, he seemed to be reassessing Xuanyan entirely, as if wondering how this man was his senior at all—someone who had lived in the sect for years, yet was now asking questions like a newcomer.
Ye Qingfeng let out a short, humorless laugh.
"Discipline?" he repeated. "In the Outer Sect?" He shook his head faintly. "Brother Xuanyan, we’re at the bottom of the mountain. If the wind decides to press us into the mud, what right do we have to complain?"
He looked at him, gaze steady.
"As long as no one dies, the elders will not interfere. Not for this."
Xuanyan’s steps slowed.
He clenched his jaw.
He was also cursing himself at this point for not taking everything seriously he didn’t even know basic think about this world he did get memory of previous Xuanyan’s but only important matter. He didn’t receive ,much general knowledge.
He did not know whether the feeling rising in him was anger, resolve, or simply the recognition of reality—but something sharpened inside him, like a blade being drawn for the first time.