Frighten

Ling Fen stiffened, his grip tightening on the sword in his hand. Beside him, Luan Fan' face had gone rigid, her eyes hardening into chips of ice.

"I'm afraid I must decline," Ling Fen said, his tone polite but firm. "My path is my own to walk, and I will not be swayed by pretty words or empty promises."

The lead disciple's face twisted into an ugly scowl, his eyes flashing with barely contained rage. "You dare spurn Young Master Chentian's kindness? You, a mere commoner with no background to speak of? Do you have any idea of the forces you are trifling with, boy?"

Ling Fen met his gaze unflinchingly, his posture calm and composed. "I am aware of my own limitations, and I do not seek to offend. But neither will I compromise my principles for the sake of expediency. If Young Master Chentian truly wishes to aid me in my cultivation, he can do so by allowing me to forge my own path."

The disciples sputtered, their faces mottling with fury. For a moment, it seemed as if they might actually attack Ling Fen then and there, heedless of the watching crowd.

But then their gazes fell upon Miao Ying, and a new calculation entered their eyes. They studied him, taking in his plain robes and unassuming appearance, and a cruel smile spread across their faces.

"It seems you are too far gone to see reason," the leader spat at Ling Fen. "But perhaps this one here will prove more amenable to our master's generosity. After all, what can a mere Body Refinement cultivator hope to achieve on his own? Without a powerful backer, he is nothing more than a leaf in the wind, destined to be crushed underfoot."

The two disciples strode forward with an air of arrogant confidence, their steps measured and their gazes locked onto the figure of Miao Ying. Each footfall seemed to carry with it an unspoken challenge, a declaration of superiority that was as much a part of their bearing as the fine silk robes adorning their bodies. 

However, that self-assured momentum faltered as they crossed the halfway point, their steps slowing and their eyes widening involuntarily.

It was a subtle thing at first, a prickling sensation at the edge of their awareness, but it rapidly blossomed into a full-body shudder that rocked them to their core. Their darting pupils and trembling fingers betrayed the sudden surge of fear that now held their hearts captive. 

The source of this abrupt change was as unexpected as it was terrifying - Miao Ying had simply looked at them.

There was nothing overtly threatening in his posture or expression. Indeed, his face was an inscrutable mask, betraying not a hint of emotion. But there was something in the depths of his eyes, a profound weight that seemed to pierce through all pretense and see through to the very essence of their beings. 

It was the gaze of a predator - cold, assessing, and entirely unconcerned with the petty machinations of its prey.

Miao Ying held no love for unnecessary distractions. The tedious power plays and jockeying for status that so consumed his fellow disciples were as unappealing to him as a mouthful of bitter ash. In this case, it seemed a brief demonstration was in order - a reminder to all who bore witness that he was not some tame dog to be ordered about on a whim.

The young man reached deep within himself, tapping into the wellspring of power that dwelt within the very marrow of his bones. In the hidden recesses of his soul, ancient runes flared to life, their eldritch light casting twisted shadows across the mindscape. 

The Devourer Rune, a divine inheritance of immeasurable potential, stirred to wakefulness, its baleful essence bleeding into the world.

This power, ancient and terrible, seeped out from Miao Ying's eyes in a shadowy miasma, tainting the air with a sickly sweet scent reminiscent of blood and burnt offerings. It pulsed outward in a silent wave, its passage marked by a sudden heaviness that pressed down upon the senses like a physical weight.

"Fuck off." Two words, spoken with the casual indifference of one swatting aside a bothersome insect. Yet those two words seemed to echo in the sudden silence, each syllable laced with an unspoken threat.

The disciples, who had been so haughty mere moments before, now stood frozen in place, their faces ashen and their eyes wide with barely restrained panic. 

The crushing aura emanating from Miao Ying filled their minds with a single, overriding imperative - flee! Every instinct screamed at them to turn tail and run, to put as much distance as possible between themselves and this monster in human skin.

Even the other disciples, those who possessed a modicum of talent, found themselves shaken by the experience. 

The weakest among them shivered like leaves in an autumn wind, while those with sturdier dispositions gritted their teeth and glared balefully at the young man who dared to exert such pressure.

The Elder overseeing the Merit Point exchange was not exempt from the disturbance. His gaze flickered briefly towards Miao Ying, a frown creasing his brow as he assessed the situation with the ease of long experience. 

Two more sets of eyes watched the proceedings with great interest - Ling Fen and Luan Fan, the golden couple of the Earth Abode.

Ling Fen's hand clenched into a white-knuckled fist, his eyes narrowing as he studied Miao Ying's profile. To the outside observer, his actions might have appeared as a righteous anger on behalf of his bullied juniors. 

In truth, the source of his frustration was far more personal.

He still vividly remembered the day of the Riverfall Killing Array, when he had stood tall and proud, basking in the adulation of these disciples as he set a new record for the lowest cultivation base to enter the Earth Abode. That sense of triumph had turned to ashes in his mouth when Miao Ying took to the stage.

The mysterious young man, a complete unknown, had not just beaten his record, but utterly shattered it. 9th stage of Body Refinement, a realm of cultivation so far beneath the norm that his participation had seemed like a jest. 

Now, as he watched Miao Ying bring two Earth Adobe sect disciples to their knees with nothing more than a glance and a few words, that sense of frustration and inadequacy surged to the forefront once more. 

Just who was this Miao Ying, and how could Ling Fen match him?

Luan Fan, in contrast, looked upon the scene with an expression of barely restrained curiosity. Her head tilted to the side, silky black tresses spilling over her shoulder as she tapped a delicate finger against her chin.

"Brother Ling, that's him, isn't it? The one who caused such a stir at the Riverfall Killing Array. He seems quite...intense."

"Intense is one word for it," Ling Fen muttered his tone a mix of strange envy. "Arrogant, and very dominating."

"Oh? To me, he just looks bored. Like he couldn't care less what anyone here thinks of him." Luan Fan smiled impishly, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Reminds me a bit of a certain young master I know."

Ling Fen shot her an aggrieved look, but couldn't maintain his irritation in the face of her playful teasing. His frown melted into a rueful grin as he shook his head.

"Troublesome woman. This Young Master is far more charming and personable, I'll have you know."

The light-hearted exchange was interrupted by the sight of Miao Ying abruptly turning on his heel and striding towards the exit. 

The disciples still frozen before him flinched back as he passed, scrambling out of the way like frightened rabbits before a wolf. Miao Ying paid them no mind, his destination now firmly in mind.

He had acquired a basic sword art and a low-grade spirit sword in exchange for a sizeable chunk of his merit points. 

While others might have agonized over the decision, Miao Ying operated under a simple principle - get what was needed and move on. Further dithering would only waste time that could be better spent on cultivation.

Thus, Miao Ying left the Hall of Exchanges, his newly acquired sword strapped across his back. If he was aware of the many eyes boring into his back, he gave no sign. There was a purpose in his stride, a sense of absolute focus that excluded all else.