The next morning, the village buzzed with the news of a public sparring match. Yuan Fei and his group had declared it a "demonstration of the sect's strength," intending to impress the villagers and flaunt their abilities. For Jian Chen, it was an opportunity he couldn't afford to miss. Watching real cultivators in action was like watching a master chef at work—only instead of culinary skills, it was all about breaking bones and ego.
He made his way to the center of the village, where a crowd had already gathered. Yuan Fei and his followers stood at the forefront, each exuding an air of pride and authority that could probably lift a boulder. Yuan Fei's eyes glinted with barely concealed arrogance, the kind that made you want to roll your eyes and sigh dramatically as he surveyed the crowd, soaking in their admiration like a sunflower thirsting for sunlight.
Jian Chen kept to the edges, his gaze fixed on the group. The young woman from last night, Lan Mei, looked more reserved, her expression thoughtful as she prepared herself for the match. She glanced briefly at Jian Chen, who returned her look with an almost imperceptible nod—like a secret handshake, only less cool and with fewer conspiracies.
The first match was between two of Yuan Fei's followers: a burly young man and a leaner, more agile companion. They faced each other with steady determination, hands already brimming with energy, which Jian Chen assumed was either training or caffeine-fueled enthusiasm. As they began, it was like watching a performance of "Dancing with the Stars," only with less glitter and more danger.
The sparring commenced, and it was like nothing he had ever seen. They moved with fluid grace, each strike swift and deliberate, almost as if they were engaged in an intricate dance-off, except with actual consequences. One wielded a faintly glowing blade, while the other manipulated his inner energy to form barriers around himself. Their moves were precise and calculated—a deadly dance that demonstrated not only their power but also the countless hours they'd spent honing their skills.
Jian Chen's eyes widened as he noticed the subtle shifts in their energy. Each cultivation technique seemed to create a distinct aura, hinting at something beyond mere physical power—something he really hoped came with free snacks. He could feel it—the same energy that had pulsed through the chessboard. It was as if the match itself was breathing life into his senses, opening doors to an understanding that had previously been locked, likely by a very grumpy janitor.
Then, Yuan Fei stepped forward, calling for silence as he declared his intention to show the village "true power." The other followers stepped back, their faces a mix of admiration and deference, as if they were watching a celebrity take the stage—except this celebrity had a habit of setting things on fire.
Jian Chen narrowed his eyes. Yuan Fei's aura was vastly different from the others—sharper, more refined. His cultivation level was clearly superior, radiating an energy that commanded the space around him, like a peacock strutting through a flock of pigeons. The villagers gasped as Yuan Fei extended his hands, summoning a blaze of fire that danced along his palms, looking like a very dangerous magic trick gone slightly awry.
He began to perform a series of complex movements, each one more intricate than the last. Flames burst forth with every strike, swirling around him in patterns that seemed to defy logic, much like his hairstyle. The villagers looked on in awe, murmuring among themselves as Yuan Fei's power enveloped the area in a fierce, shimmering heat, making Jian Chen wonder if he should have brought popcorn.
Jian Chen, however, remained calm, analyzing every move. He observed the control Yuan Fei exerted over his flames, the precision of his attacks. His style was aggressive but disciplined—a perfect blend of strength and finesse. There was no doubt that Yuan Fei was skilled, but Jian Chen could see the flaws—the moments when he overcommitted, the seconds where his confidence made him recklessly close to becoming an overcooked marshmallow.
As Yuan Fei concluded his display with a final flourish, the crowd erupted into applause, their admiration unrestrained, as if they were witnessing a miracle instead of just a guy showing off his Tinder profile. Yuan Fei soaked it all in, flashing a smug grin at his followers and the villagers. But as he cast a glance over the crowd, his eyes fell on Jian Chen, who was watching with a faint, unimpressed smile, like someone who just realized they'd brought a salad to an all-you-can-eat buffet.
For a brief moment, their gazes locked. Yuan Fei's grin faltered, replaced by a flicker of irritation. Jian Chen's expression remained calm, his eyes steady and appraising. He could tell Yuan Fei was unused to such indifference. To him, it must have felt like a challenge—one he was not accustomed to receiving from a mere villager, especially one who looked like he spent more time reading than brawling.
Yuan Fei's irritation manifested in a sharp command. "You there," he called out, pointing directly at Jian Chen, like a teacher who had just caught a student sneaking a nap during class. "Step forward."
The villagers turned to look at Jian Chen, murmuring in surprise. Yuan Fei's followers exchanged curious glances, while Lan Mei's gaze sharpened with interest, likely wondering if Jian Chen was about to get himself into a pickle.
Jian Chen walked forward with a relaxed, almost casual stride, maintaining his calm. He could feel the weight of their stares, the tension building as he stopped a few paces from Yuan Fei. Despite the pressure of the moment, Jian Chen's face betrayed nothing, his gaze fixed firmly on Yuan Fei.
Yuan Fei crossed his arms, a mocking smile playing on his lips. "You think yourself above our display?" he asked, his tone laced with arrogance, as if he were the king of a very small, very fragile castle.
Jian Chen met his gaze, unflinching. "Not above it," he replied evenly. "Just… observing, like a good citizen."
The crowd fell silent, the tension palpable enough to cut with a butter knife. Yuan Fei's smile faded, replaced by a cold glint in his eyes. "A mere observer, is it? Then let's see if you're as capable as your eyes suggest."
Without warning, he raised his hand, summoning a small burst of flames that danced dangerously close to Jian Chen, flickering with a heat that threatened to scorch the air between them, like an awkward first date gone wrong.
But Jian Chen didn't flinch. Instead, he took a measured step back, his eyes never leaving Yuan Fei's. "If you'd like to teach me a lesson, Senior, I'm all ears," he said, his tone calm but edged with an unmistakable challenge.
The villagers gasped, their eyes darting between the two. Yuan Fei's face darkened, his pride clearly pricked, like a balloon on a cactus. Jian Chen could see the frustration simmering behind his eyes, the urge to prove his dominance.
Lan Mei stepped forward, placing a hand on Yuan Fei's arm. "He's just a villager," she murmured. "It's beneath you. You have a brand to protect, remember?"
Yuan Fei hesitated, his gaze flickering to Lan Mei, then back to Jian Chen. Slowly, he withdrew his flames, his expression hardening. "Remember your place," he said, his tone cold, like ice water on a hot summer day.
Jian Chen offered a slight, respectful nod. "Of course, Senior," he replied smoothly, his tone devoid of sarcasm, but his gaze carrying a subtle glint of defiance, like a cat who just knocked something off the table and dared you to react.
As he stepped back into the crowd, he felt a surge of satisfaction. Yuan Fei may have let him go, but Jian Chen knew he'd made an impression—a small crack in the aura of untouchable power the young cultivator wielded. And that, he knew, was only the beginning, like the first chapter of a bestseller.
As the crowd began to disperse, Lan Mei approached him quietly. She glanced over her shoulder to ensure they were alone before speaking. "You're either very brave or very foolish," she whispered, her tone a mixture of caution and intrigue, like a concerned mother who just found out her son was jumping off rooftops.
Jian Chen met her gaze, a faint smirk on his lips. "Perhaps a bit of both," he replied. "But sometimes, a small risk can yield a valuable reward, like finding change in your couch cushions."
Her eyes held a hint of admiration, tempered by wariness. "You're walking a dangerous path, Jian Chen. Just be careful that it doesn't lead you to ruin."
With that, she turned and walked away, leaving him to ponder her words. But as he watched her go, he felt a thrill he hadn't experienced in a long time—a sense of excitement for the path that lay ahead, like a kid on Christmas morning, but without the parental supervision.
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Chapter 6: The Path of the Silent Observer
As the sun dipped below the mountains, casting long shadows across the village, Jian Chen retreated to his humble quarters. His mind buzzed with thoughts of the day's events, especially his brief confrontation with Yuan Fei. The young cultivator's arrogance was more than just an annoyance; it was an opportunity. Jian Chen had seen the flaws