An archipelago stretched across the horizon, a series of verdant islands rising from the sapphire waters like emeralds scattered upon a sea of glass.
Each island was unique in its beauty, yet all shared a common feature: towering forests of ancient trees, their thick canopies casting deep, dappled shadows over the lush, untamed undergrowth.
At the heart of the archipelago, on the largest island, stood a mansion unlike any other.
It loomed over the forest like a titan among mortals, its dark spires piercing the sky.
Inside the grand hall, the tension was palpable, hanging thick in the air like a storm on the verge of breaking. The ornate chamber, usually silent in its imposing grandeur, now buzzed with an undercurrent of hostility.
At the center of this storm knelt a young boy, barely eighteen, his slight frame trembling ever so faintly as he lowered his head in submission.
His knees pressed into the cold floor, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
He did not dare to look up. The weight of the many gazes upon him was suffocating, as though their fury alone could crush him.
Around him sat the elders, their eyes burned with accusation, each glare sharp enough to cut through the silence, as if demanding the boy’s very soul be laid bare for judgment.
At the center of the grand hall, seated on elevated platforms, were three older men, their presence commanding yet unnervingly serene.
Dressed in plain Daoist robes, they sat with their hands resting gently on their knees, their eyes half-closed as if already detached from the trivialities of the world around them.
Their calm expressions, devoid of any sign of passion or wrath, gave a distinct impression that nothing—neither life nor death—could stir them.
These were the Grand Elders, the silent pillars of the Jun Clan, their wisdom was feared as much as their judgment.
In stark contrast to their serenity, Jun Qigang stood before them, his voice booming through the hall with righteous indignation as he spoke.
"Grand Elders, I suggest we banish this traitor from our clan. Such vermin must be dealt with thoroughly so that their fate serves as a warning for others to learn from."
The accusation hung in the air, cold and final, like the swing of a blade.
As clan leader, Jun Qigang’s words carried the weight of iron, unyielding and forceful. His mere suggestion had already poisoned the room, shaping the outcome of this so-called deliberation.
The elders around him, many of them old and proud, shifted in their seats, the intensity in Jun Qigang’s voice stirring their hidden thoughts.
But none dared to openly oppose him.
After all, to suggest leniency where the clan leader saw only punishment would be akin to inviting disgrace upon oneself.
The boy remained kneeling, the hall felt smaller, as though the walls were closing in on him, and the weight of judgment was pressing down, suffocating.
Behind Jun Qigang’s cold words was a deeper implication—banishment for one branded as a traitor was a slow death sentence.
The cruelty of the situation was undeniable, a heartless spectacle playing out before the clan. The boy, kneeling on the cold, gleaming tiles, was not like the others.
From birth, he had been different. His mind had never fully developed, a tragic twist of fate that had left him intellectually disabled—mentally retarded.
While his peers trained in cultivation arts, and pursued knowledge and fame, he had struggled to comprehend even the simplest of tasks.
Most days, he acted like a child, lost in a world too vast and complex for him to understand, relying on the loving care of his parents to guide him through.
To survive eighteen years in a clan as ruthless and demanding as the Jun had been nothing short of a miracle. It was not strength or skill that had kept him alive—it was love.
Yet, even with this cruel twist of fate, Jun Qigang did not hesitate. He stood before the Grand Elders and the gathered assembly of elders, advocating without a shred of remorse for the boy’s banishment.
The ease with which he suggested it as if the boy were nothing more than a stain on the Jun Clan’s honor, was sickening.
What cruelty?
Where was the sense of kinship?
Where was the empathy?
And for what? For burning a few clan core techniques?
The grand hall was eerily quiet, the silence pressing down on the room like a vice. Yet no one dared to speak, not even a whisper.
The air was thick with unspoken thoughts, a mixture of fear, calculation, and anticipation swirling in the minds of the elders.
Everyone understood that this moment was not simply about the boy’s fate—no, it was a message. A carefully orchestrated warning, aimed at specific individuals, though no one dared to say it aloud.
The tension in the hall climbed with each passing second, tightening like a drawn bowstring, threatening to snap at any moment.
When the tension reached its unbearable peak, the sound of a single movement broke the stillness.
A man rose from his seat, drawing the attention of every eye in the room. His face was unreadable, his movements slow and deliberate.
He was strikingly handsome, with sharp features and quiet strength that radiated authority.
His presence alone was enough to shift the atmosphere in the hall, though his expression remained frustratingly neutral, giving nothing away.
It was Jun Chang, the boy’s father.
And yet, as he stood there, looking down at his trembling son on the cold, hard floor, it was as if the boy had nothing to do with him.
His eyes, dark and piercing, revealed no flicker of emotion, no sign of the turmoil boiling beneath the surface.
But inside, rage burned like a wildfire, threatening to consume him whole. A father’s rage. The kind of rage that, if unleashed, could tear this entire clan apart, piece by piece.
Yet he did not move. His face remained expressionless, a mask of cold indifference, hiding the storm that raged within.
He could not afford to show weakness, not here, not now. To reveal the fury that seethed inside him would be to hand his enemies the weapon they needed.
All eyes were on him now, waiting for him to speak, to give his judgment.
Would he plead for mercy?
Would he stand against Jun Qigang’s decree and fight for his son’s life?
Or would he remain silent, choosing the path of detachment, sacrificing his son to preserve his standing?
He stopped just a few feet from his son, his shadow falling over the trembling boy.
The hall was so silent that even the faintest breath seemed loud, the tension wound tighter than ever.
Jun Chang raised his head, his expression still as unreadable as stone, and looked directly at Jun Qigang, locking eyes with the man who had called for his son’s banishment.
The room was waiting, poised at the edge of something explosive.
"I have two children," Jun Chang began slowly, his voice crisp and steady, each word measured and deliberate.
It was as if he were speaking about something trivial, a matter of little significance.
To the untrained ear, it might even sound detached, and dispassionate.
But those who knew Jun Chang—those who understood the depths of his fury when pushed—could feel the tremors beneath his calm exterior.
They gripped their seats tightly, hearts racing with a dread they dared not show.
Jun Qigang frowned, his brow furrowing as a chill crept up his spine. Something about Jun Chang’s unhurried tone, the way his voice seemed to carry the weight of unspoken menace, set off alarms deep within Qigang’s gut.
And yet, he pushed the fear down. ’What could he possibly do?’ he thought, his lips curling into a sneer. ’He’s nothing more than a paper tiger.’
Jun Chang’s gaze swept the hall, his eyes hard and unreadable, as if taking in each elder, without truly seeing them.
"I have two children," he repeated, his tone growing even colder, the faintest hint of steel threading through his voice now. "And one of them, my son, kneels before you today, trembling under your judgment."
"If it was to banish my son, I accept. But it won’t be my son alone" His unhurried voice sent a shiver down the spine of everyone. "Five elders and ten of your children must be ready to face the same judgment as my son."
"Jun Chang! What nonsense are— "
"Do you want to tell us about your talented son or should I?" Jun Chang interrupted Jun Qigang, his voice crisp and unhurried.
"Jun Chao and Jun Qian An, should I talk about you two?" He asked, turning to a middle-aged man and woman.
"Banishment, is a good punishment for my son but I wonder what would be your punishment?"
Jun Chang had become a demon that all the elders feared greatly.
Wherever he looked, the elders cowered in fear. Who would have expected, Jun Chang would unearth all their dirty secret?
Now, no one cares about the trembling kneeling boy any longer but to keep their dirty secret. Without hesitating, an elder stood up, his name was Jun Tan An.
"Banishing such a poor boy would be inhuman of us. Besides, it was not his fault but those useless guards. All the guards must be punished for failing to perform their duties."
In a blink, the situation inside the grand hall had taken a drastic turn with all the elders fighting for the poor boy.
Unbeknownst to those in the grand hall, the boy, who had been condemned for his mental incapacity, was undergoing a profound transformation.
Deep within his sea of consciousness, his soul absorbed the illusory figure of an ancient old man.
This soul, radiating the wisdom and power of long-forgotten times, merged with his own at a rapid pace.
The boy’s once feeble soul began to expand, growing from a mere few centimeters to over a meter in height, its strength and presence intensifying with every passing second.
Suddenly, a transparent panel appeared in his sea of consciousness,
[Congratulations! You’ve passed the test.]