The narrow alley, a relic of the old mining area, smelled like rust and dead moss. The light of the full moon could barely penetrate the towering stone walls, leaving behind a grim dimness. Three executioners from the Sun Family stood blocking the only way out. The tips of their swords reflected the residual light, aimed directly at Xiao Chen's face. In the mortal world, facing three 2nd-Class Warriors at once was a death sentence for a 1st-Class cultivator. The difference in Qi density made every physical clash feel like hitting a steel wall. However, instead of panicking, Xiao Chen simply loosened the muscles in his shoulders. He slowly turned his body back, looking at Lin Tian, who stood pale with his back pressed against the stone wall. Without saying a word, Xiao Chen pushed the cloth sack containing six hundred pure gold pieces into the boy's chest. "Hold this, Patriarch," Xiao Chen commanded,

Thick dust from the shattered iron gates billowed in the night wind. In the front courtyard of the Sun Main Residence, a grim silence enveloped the hundreds of elite guards and nobles. Their eyes were fixed on the golden carriage, now wedged between the rubble of stone and metal. Patriarch Sun Biao, who had been preparing to greet the Lin Family with murderous intent, now ran hastily from the main entrance. Cold sweat flooded the chubby man's forehead. "Who dares...!" Sun Biao roared, but his voice immediately caught in his throat when he saw the imperial golden dragon carving adorning the side of the carriage. His face instantly turned as pale as a corpse. The slightly dented carriage door was kicked open. A young man stepped out. He wore a bright blue silk robe embroidered with gold thread, but his appearance was far from elegant. His hair was messy, his collar was open revealing part of his chest,

The air inside the main hall of the Sun Family Residence immediately became incredibly heavy. In the middle of the shattered table's debris, Zhao Ming stood motionless with his arm extended. In his hand, a silver sword radiated a dim blue glow that cut through the air. It was no ordinary steel weapon. It was a Medium-Grade Artifact. The ancient runes carved along its blade whispered softly, sucking in the natural energy from the surroundings and emitting a spiritual pressure that made the mortal nobles in the room hold their breath. The tip of the artifact's blade pointed straight at Xiao Chen's chest. To the hundreds of pairs of watching eyes, the Third Prince still looked like a foolish drunk throwing a tantrum because his clothes were dirty. However, from a distance of less than two meters, Xiao Chen's black eyes caught something entirely different. Zhao Ming's spoiled attitude and drunken grin ha

"How is it, Prince? Do you now know the sweet taste of defeat?" The question, spoken in a flat and ice-cold tone, cut through the absolute silence that enveloped the main hall of the Sun Family Residence. At the tip of the blunt tree branch, the skin on Zhao Ming's neck was slightly pressed inward. If the branch shifted even a fraction of a millimeter, his artery would rupture. The Third Prince's eyes widened, his breath caught in his throat. The hundreds of pairs of noble eyes around them were frozen, as if time had just been stopped by a god. Cold sweat slid from Zhao Ming's temple, past his cheek, and dripped onto the teak floor. As a genius who hid the foundation of a King Warrior, Zhao Ming's brain was spinning at an insane speed. He knew the servant in front of him hadn't used a single thread of Qi. However, the precision, reflexes, and killing intent radiating from those black eyes proved one

The bone-crushing gravitational pressure vanished as quickly as it had appeared. The absolute killing intent that had locked down the entire main hall of the Sun Residence faded like mist in the night wind. On the shattered wooden floor, the sounds of gasping breaths and coughing blood broke the silence. Patriarch Sun Biao and City Lord Chu Yunqiong crawled up with what little strength they had left. The faces of these mortal rulers were as white as paper. Their armor and silk robes were soaked in cold sweat. "W-what just happened...?" Sun Biao mumbled with trembling lips. His wild eyes stared at the gaping hole in the hall's roof. "That must have been an Absolute Protective Artifact from the Empire!" an old, still-kneeling nobleman exclaimed, his voice filled with real fear. "I heard that every member of the dragon lineage is protected by an ancestral magical formation that activates automatically if their life is threa