Chapter 3: One Move to Break Arrogance
848 Words
Silence engulfed the tiny wooden room.
The three outer disciples stared at Lin Chen as though they had seen a ghost.
Senior Brother Zhao's wrist remained firmly locked in Lin Chen's grip. No matter how hard he struggled, his arm refused to move.
"Let... let go!"
He gritted his teeth and circulated his spiritual energy.
The muscles in his arm bulged.
Yet Lin Chen's fingers remained as immovable as an iron vice.
Lin Chen glanced at him indifferently.
"So much wasted strength."
"In my previous life, children knew better than to leave such an opening."
He twisted his wrist.
Crack!
"AAAHHH!"
The disciple screamed as his wrist bent unnaturally.
The other two froze in horror.
"You broke Senior Brother Zhao's wrist!"
"Are you crazy?"
One of them immediately threw a punch toward Lin Chen's face.
Whoosh!
The fist cut through empty air.
Lin Chen merely tilted his head by half an inch.
Missed.
The disciple's eyes widened.
"So slow."
Lin Chen stepped forward.
His shoulder lightly bumped into the disciple's chest.
Bang!
The disciple was sent flying through the wooden door, crashing into the muddy courtyard outside.
"Cough!"
Blood sprayed from his mouth.
He struggled to stand but collapsed again.
The last disciple's face turned pale.
"Monster..."
"How can a Third Stage Body Tempering cultivator do this?"
Lin Chen smiled faintly.
"You misunderstand."
"It isn't because I'm strong."
"It's because..."
"...you know nothing about fighting."
Thousands of years of battle experience.
Millions of sword exchanges.
Even without cultivation, his movements had long surpassed mortal comprehension.
The remaining disciple suddenly roared.
"You forced this!"
He drew a short dagger from his sleeve and lunged.
Steel flashed.
Lin Chen's eyes narrowed.
"A hidden weapon?"
"Despicable."
Just as the dagger neared his chest—
He sidestepped.
His palm struck the disciple's elbow.
Crack!
The arm instantly dislocated.
The dagger flew into the air.
Without looking—
Lin Chen caught it.
The entire exchange lasted less than a breath.
He pointed the blade at the trembling disciple's throat.
The room fell deathly silent.
Cold sweat rolled down the disciple's forehead.
"I..."
"I surrender..."
Lin Chen calmly lowered the dagger.
"I have no interest in killing ants."
He tossed the weapon onto the ground.
"Get out."
The three disciples hurriedly helped each other up.
Before leaving, Zhao glared at Lin Chen with hatred.
"You..."
"You've offended Senior Brother Wang."
"He'll cripple you!"
Lin Chen looked into the distance.
"Tell him."
"If he wants his debt..."
"He can come collect it himself."
The three fled without daring to look back.
---
After they disappeared, Lin Chen slowly closed the broken door.
His expression became serious.
"The greatest problem isn't my enemies."
"It's this body."
He sat cross-legged on the straw bed.
His spiritual sense entered his own body.
Blocked meridians.
Weak bones.
Damaged dantian.
The body was in even worse condition than he had expected.
Then...
He noticed something strange.
At the center of his dantian floated a tiny black seed.
No larger than a grain of rice.
It pulsed gently.
Once...
Twice...
Three times...
His eyes widened.
"This..."
"The Voidheart Seed?"
Impossible.
He had destroyed the Voidheart Scripture with his own hands.
How could a fragment remain?
As if responding to his thoughts, the black seed suddenly trembled.
A stream of mysterious memories flooded his mind.
Voidheart Scripture—First Layer.
Void Devouring.
A smile slowly appeared on Lin Chen's face.
"Heaven truly has a sense of humor."
"They destroyed my cultivation..."
"...yet the foundation of my greatest technique survived."
The Voidheart Seed possessed one terrifying ability.
It could devour spiritual energy.
Not only natural qi...
But pills.
Treasures.
Bloodlines.
Even heavenly tribulation itself.
No wonder the Nine Sovereigns feared it.
If nurtured properly...
It could once again become the cultivation technique that terrified the heavens.
"But first..."
"I need resources."
He searched the room.
It was almost empty.
One cracked bowl.
A torn blanket.
An old wooden sword.
Nothing else.
Poor.
Far poorer than he remembered from Lin Chen's memories.
Then his eyes landed on the wooden sword.
He picked it up.
Although rotten...
It was still a sword.
He gently ran his fingers along its surface.
The sword hummed softly.
Outside the hut, several passing disciples stopped in surprise.
"Did you hear that?"
"A sword just rang."
"Impossible."
"That broken wooden stick?"
Inside the room, Lin Chen smiled.
"Even a wooden sword..."
"...can sing."
For the first time since his reincarnation...
He felt at home.
---
Far away...
Inside the luxurious courtyard of the Outer Sect...
A burly young man sat upon a stone chair while beautiful maidservants poured him wine.
His name was...
Wang Hu.
The strongest Outer Disciple under Elder Sun.
Zhao knelt before him, his broken wrist wrapped in cloth.
"Senior Brother Wang..."
"Lin Chen attacked us."
"He said..."
"...if you want your spirit stones..."
"...come collect them yourself."
The stone wine cup in Wang Hu's hand shattered into powder.
A terrifying aura erupted.
"Trash."
"A cripple dares challenge me?"
He slowly stood.
His eyes burned with murderous intent.
"Tomorrow..."
"I'll personally teach him..."
"...what despair truly means."
- Writer
