Volume One: A Youth Enters the World Chapter Eleven: Conflict

Fang Tian stood in the room, surveying the spacious interior. “As expected of a prominent family in the town; their residence is adorned with carved beams and painted rafters, truly unique in style.”

“With nothing pressing at hand, I might as well continue cultivating. Tomorrow, I’ll go out and explore.”

He then sat cross-legged upon the bed and began his cultivation. Time slipped by unnoticed.

At dusk, a maid brought his meal. Fang Tian motioned for her to enter. Seeing him immersed in cultivation, she dared not disturb him, so she placed the dishes on the table and quietly withdrew. He remained focused on his training, not stopping until deep into the night.

Opening his eyes, Fang Tian slowly withdrew his spiritual energy and glanced at the cold meal on the table, smiling awkwardly.

“I got so absorbed in cultivation, I forgot to eat. But I shouldn’t let it go to waste.”

As he ate the now cold dishes, he sighed, “Not bad—these dishes taste good even cold.”

Satisfied, he lay down on the bed, staring at the overhead beam and letting his mind wander. Before long, he drifted into sleep, and morning arrived.

The sunlight was gentle, and birds outside sang incessantly. The rays seeped through the window, softly illuminating Fang Tian’s face. He opened his eyes, realizing the day had begun, and got up to dress.

The maid had already been waiting at the door. Hearing movement within, she called out,

“Sir, are you awake?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll come in.”

“Come in.”

She entered, finding Fang Tian seated at the bedside, seemingly dispelling the remnants of sleep. She collected the unfinished dishes and left for a while, then returned to assist with his washing. Fang Tian signaled that he could manage on his own.

The maid soon brought breakfast, tidied his bed, and departed.

As he ate, Fang Tian muttered to himself,

“This hospitality is almost overwhelming; I’m not quite used to it. Still, it’s wonderful—very comfortable. I suppose I’ll need to adjust.”

After breakfast and a brief rest, Fang Tian felt inclined to wander. Opening the door, he stepped outside, breathed in the fresh air, and set off to explore.

Walking through the vast courtyard, he admired the landscape, feeling his spirit lighten. Soon, he arrived at the Zhou family’s training grounds.

There, a group of young Zhou family members were practicing martial arts. Fang Tian paused to watch. The group included both men and women, some cultivating their skills, others sparring—it was lively.

Noticing Fang Tian, the crowd glanced at him. Though unfamiliar, they assumed he was a member of their clan. One young man called out,

“You, come here!”

Fang Tian was taken aback by the abrupt summons but stepped forward. The young man continued,

“Which family branch are you from? I’ve never seen you before.”

Fang Tian was about to answer, but the other interrupted, leaving him speechless.

“Don’t speak. I don’t care for your excuses. You’re just trying to slack off, aren’t you? The tri-family competition is just ahead, yet you still find time to be idle. Impressive.”

Fang Tian thought, “Is something wrong with this guy? Can’t he let me speak? He keeps rambling to himself—does he find this entertaining?”

Rolling his eyes, Fang Tian turned to leave, but the young man shouted again,

“Stop! Did I say you could go? You neglect your training and act so arrogantly—do you think nothing of Zhou Quan? Looks like I need to teach you a lesson.”

He added, “Kid, if you can withstand ten of my moves, I’ll let you go and never bother you again. If you can’t, then you’ll stay here and train diligently!”

Seeing commotion, others gathered around, forming a circle around Fang Tian and Zhou Quan, and began discussing,

“Who is that?”

“Never seen him.”

“How did he end up facing Zhou Quan?”

“You don’t know? Apparently, he was caught slacking off, and Zhou Quan is lecturing him.”

“Oh, so that’s it. Do you think he can take ten moves from Zhou Quan?”

“Who knows? But this should be interesting.”

…

Fang Tian looked at the crowd blocking every exit and inwardly cried out,

“Heavens! What’s with this guy? He wants to attack me for no reason—I was just passing by!”

Despite his frustrations, he agreed, “So, if I withstand your ten moves, I can leave?”

“Yes. If you can take my ten moves.”

“Alright, let’s do it.”

“Kid, prepare yourself!”

Without delay, Zhou Quan channeled his spiritual energy, his whole body glowing with fiery red light, and swung his fist at Fang Tian.

“Take this—my martial technique, Crimson Flame Palm!”

Fang Tian’s body surged with icy blue energy, the essence of his Frostface cultivation. Raising his arm, he met Zhou Quan’s attack head-on; their palms collided, red and blue energies erupted, sending a gust of wind and clouds of dust swirling.

The onlookers stepped back, and as the dust settled, the two figures emerged. Fang Tian stood unscathed, and declared,

“That was the first move—I’ve taken it.”

“Kid, that was just one. Prepare for more!”

The two continued their contest, exchanging blow after blow. Their sparring stirred the earth, the sound of clashing palms echoing unceasingly. The crowd was amazed,

“This guy is strong! He can hold his own against Zhou Quan.”

“Yeah, Zhou Quan’s the top in our group for skills and techniques. Who knew he’d have such a hard time teaching a newcomer?”

“I’d bet that kid can take all ten moves.”

“I think so too.”

“Zhou Quan might be in for a surprise.”

“Haha!”

…

As the crowd talked, Fang Tian had already endured ten moves. He stopped and said to Zhou Quan, “I’ve taken your ten moves. That means I can leave, right?”

Zhou Quan’s face darkened; he hadn’t expected this newcomer to withstand his ten moves so effortlessly. Coupled with the crowd’s chatter, his pride was wounded—how could he maintain his authority within the family now?

With a stern expression and unwilling heart, Zhou Quan proposed a formal challenge,

“Kid, you’re stronger than I thought. How about we have a proper contest, to see who’s better?”

Fang Tian sighed, realizing that unless he convinced Zhou Quan, he wouldn’t be allowed to leave. He replied,

“Very well. Let’s compete, but if you lose, don’t bother me again. If I lose, I’ll accept your terms.”

“Agreed! One move decides the winner—each of us uses our strongest technique in a full-force strike!”

Fang Tian thought, “If I go all out, I might seriously harm Zhou Quan. Our cultivation levels are different—he’s only at the eighth layer of Spirit Induction. I’ll hold back.” But aloud he said, “Fine, one move to decide it.”

They each took a few steps back, and the crowd made room. Without hesitation, they summoned their spiritual energy, preparing their attacks.

“Kid, I’m using the final move of my Crimson Flame Palm—be ready!”

Fang Tian was silent.

“Crimson Flame Palm, third form: Scorch!”

Fang Tian formed his fingers into a sword and silently recited,

“Frostblade Technique, first form: Ice Lock.”

Their energies collided—red flames and icy mist intertwined, erupting in a cloud of vapor, obscuring both figures from view.

“Where are they?”

“I can’t see a thing.”

“Who won?”

“Let’s wait and see.”

…

After a moment, Fang Tian and Zhou Quan reappeared. Fang Tian’s fingers rested beneath Zhou Quan’s throat.

“You lost.”

Zhou Quan stared at Fang Tian’s hand at his throat, involuntarily swallowing. He was thoroughly intimidated.

The crowd, witnessing the outcome, erupted in astonishment.