Trouble

Han Chen stood motionless in the abandoned factory courtyard; his senses stretched thin. The faint rhythm of footsteps reached him—steady, deliberate, carrying the cadence of someone trained in martial arts. Similarly, the air flow patterns thorough his intent sight also revealed the silhouette of the person about to come in. He adjusted his facial features subtly, masking his presence, and waited. 

A middle-aged man emerged from the shadows, his aura radiating the unmistakable strength of a mid-stage Martial Master. The man paused, his sharp eyes narrowing as they landed on Han Chen. His face showing a multitude of colours representing frustration, anger, killing intent, joy, surprise, relief etc.

"Hah," the man sneered, his voice rough with disbelief. "Thought I was the first here. But… a little brat beat me to it." His gaze turned predatory, a faint killing intent threading the air. "You! Where's the treasure?" 

Han Chen remained silent, his eye technique scanning the area. No energy fluctuations outside like surveillance devices, no hidden cameras—just a positional tracker on the man's belt. With a flick of telepathic energy, Han Chen deactivated it and crushed it all together.

"Can't you hear me?" the man growled not noticing the smaller details, stepping closer. "Leave whatever you found here and fuck off before I change my mind." 

Han Chen tilted his head, feigning innocence. "What treasure are you talking about?" 

The man's lips curled into a snarl. "Playing dumb? I felt it --a special aura that boosted my cultivation. I even fell into a brief contemplation. And look around --the vegetation here is dry, but the lower floors are lush. What did you do, you commoner?" 

"Oh, you mean the Dao rhythm," Han Chen replied, smiling faintly. "I can't give that to you—it's not an object. As for the dry trees… yeah, I might've absorbed a bit too much." He already judged the person's next actions based on the interaction that it won't end well.

The man's expression darkened. "Absorbed? absorbed what? Take it out. Are you stalling? No one's around to hear you scream, kid." 

Han Chen shrugged. "I really don't have what you're looking for." 

"That's it," the man snapped, his patience snapping like a taut wire. "You've tested me long enough. I'll make you hand it over. It's been a while since I killed someone… and this secret will die with you." 

"Murder isn't good, you know, young man" Han Chen said, his tone almost casual surprising himself and laughing about it. The man barked an angry laugh. " I am over 60, what young man? Boy, don't offend those you can't afford to provoke. Be more careful in your next life." 

The man lunged; his fists encased in a shimmering Qi shield. His movements were precise, his steps accelerating in the final meters as he unleashed a relentless flurry of strikes—a torrent of fists aimed to overwhelm. 

Han Chen's perception shifted into heightened mode, time slowing to a crawl. The man's attacks, fast and brutal to an ordinary eye, now seemed sluggish, almost comical. 

'He's so slow…' Han Chen mused, his body moving with effortless grace. The man's first strike aimed for Han Chen's head. A slight tilt of his neck, and the fist whistled past harmlessly. Before the man could adjust, Han Chen's own fist shot forward, Qi resonating with the laws of severance and power. 

The impact was devastating. 

Han Chen's fist tore through the qi shield then to the rapidly converging blue region in the man's chest, a sonic boom echoing as the force blasted a fist-sized hole clean through. Blood and bone sprayed outward but froze mid-air, repelled by Han Chen's Qi shield before they could stain his clothes. 

The man staggered back, his face a mask of shock. His lungs punctured, he managed only a choked, "You… boy…Grand Masterrr" before collapsing, unconscious due to shock and qi disruption. 

" I could have toyed with you a bit more if I haven't played in the mind space. Can't you come a bit earlier?" Han Chen sighed, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve. "Yeah, me indeed. I'm a little too strong. And 'boy'? I'm old enough for your ancestors to call me great ancestor." 

Han Chen surveyed the gruesome scene. Blood pooled around the man's severed torso, bones scattered like broken twigs. With a thought, he gathered the remnants into a pile, his telekinetic precision leaving no trace of external force. 

A flick of his finger, and a wisp of energy ignited the pile. The flames, fueled by the law of fire, consumed flesh and bone in moments. Han Chen tossed dry branches onto the blaze, the fire roaring as it reduced the body to ash. 

He lingered just long enough to ensure no DNA fragments or lingering scents remained in areas he remained. The flames, guided by his will, burned everything to dust. It was exhausting to stimulate it for the entire 5-minute time of use, after all its a spiritual art. He also gets to see emotional response in form of hues from the man even after he is dead for a while.

Han Chen slung his backpack over his shoulder. With a final sweep of telepathy, he scattered the ashes into the air, erasing any trace of his presence. 

Then, with a flash step, he vanished into the night, leaving the factory silent and empty once more. Time passed.

At home, Han Chen sat cross-legged on his bedroom floor, the faint scent of sandalwood incense curling through the air. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he cycled Qi through his Dantian, replenishing the reserves he'd burned during the last stunt.

It wasn't true divine flame, just a flicker of resonance, but wielding even that shred of cosmic order had left him hollowed out.

Days melted into months, and as the third year of high school arrived with the crisp bite of autumn; while walking through the busy corridor of the dining hall, he overheard a hushed conversation between Zhao Lin, Xu Qing and Ye Ling. Zhao Lin was holding up a faded photograph—the man Han Chen had killed.

"Look at this," he hissed, jabbing a finger at the image --a shadowy figure near the abandoned factory. "My family's senior martial master vanished here. Poof. No body, no traces. Just… ash."

Xu Qing leaned closer, reading the news, her brow furrowing. "The supernatural department said he disabled his tracker. Maybe he—"

"It's Bullshit." Zhao Lin cut her off, his knuckles whitening around his coffee cup. "You think a man who clawed his way to mid-stage Martial Master would vanish? He was hunting something. Or someone. "

Han Chen, eavesdropping from the next booth behind a newspaper, smirked. Oh, he found something alright.

Xu Qing sighed, stirring her tea. "They said two suspects were spotted, but—"

"Ghosts!" Zhao Lin sneered. "Fabricated profiles. No national IDs. My father thinks it was a grandmaster-level fight. No way some random rogue killed him.

... I know that uncle --he'd do anything to get what he wants. I'm convinced he fought a grand-master. A mere master could never bring him down. Besides why assume he's dead? He's probably in seclusion, hiding away. And honestly, why is everyone making such a fuss over this?"

A month later, his relentless soul refinement training bore fruit. His field of spiritual consciousness had expanded far beyond his physical body—now, a radiant aura extending some fifty meters around him pulsed with energy. He could perceive the inner workings of his body even with his eyes closed, and manipulate objects weighing over a hundred kilograms with just a thought. Yet, for all his newfound mental dexterity, he still couldn't lift his own body—a humbling reminder that his physical refinement remained stubbornly dense.

Yet it isn't a complete spiritual sense. He tried to activate the chaos bead with it, and got trembled in response, yet no message was received. 

The next day, during a tedious school assembly convened randomly, Han Chen leaned back in his chair, bored. Zhao Lin sat three rows ahead, preening under the principal's praise for his family's charity donations.

Let's test that composure.

A whisper of telekinetic energy snaked out. Zhao Lin's chair leg splintered with a muffled crack. He crashed to the floor, his yelp echoing through the auditorium.

"Who—?!" Zhao Lin scrambled up, face crimson as stifled laughter rippled through the crowd.

Han Chen schooled his face into mild concern. "Clumsy," he mouthed, earning a venomous glare.

The classroom buzzed with the monotony of a physics lecture. Han Chen sat at the back, his posture relaxed, his mind elsewhere. The teacher droned on about Optics laws, but Han Chen's thoughts were consumed by the scripture he'd been refining for subsequent development—a guide to the Martial Mastery Realm, tailored for a world devoid of natural Qi.

The bell rang, jolting Han Chen from his thoughts. Students spilled into the hallway, their chatter a cacophony of teenage concerns. Han Chen slung his backpack over his shoulder with a fluid movement.

"Han Chen!" Fan Qing jogged up, grinning. "You've been zoning out all day. What's up?"

"Just tired," Han Chen lied, his smile easy. "Physics is… not my thing."

Fan Qing snorted. "Yeah, right. You aced the last test without even trying."

Before Han Chen could reply, Zhao Lin's voice cut through the noise. "Watch it, Fan Qing. You're standing too close to the genius."

Han Chen turned, meeting Zhao Lin's glare with a calm gaze. "Problem, Zhao Lin?"

Zhao Lin's jaw tightened. "Just wondering how someone like you gets perfect grades without lifting a finger. Must be nice."

Han Chen shrugged. "Maybe I'm just smarter than you."

The Fan Qing erupted in laughter. Zhao Lin's face reddened, but he stalked off without another word.

That evening, Han Chen retreated to the abandoned villa as the factory in eastern courtyard is under police and supernatural dept. investigations, the only place where he could train without prying eyes is the old villa. He knelt in the central courtyard, the air thick with the scent of rust and damp earth.

"The master's body becomes a conduit," he recited silently, channeling Essence through his Eight Spiritual Veins. The energy surged, a torrent of power that made his skin glow faintly.

"The master's body becomes a conduit,Channeling Essence through eight hidden veins.From humble origins, a spiritual lake is born—A seed for an eternal, boundless sea."

A memory surfaced—his past life, standing atop sect's mountain as a Golden Core, the world's Qi bending to his will. 

For the past six months, Han Chen had rigorously practiced in the shadows. No longer content with the fleeting strength of a Martial Adept, he sought to shatter his mortal limits.

With each covert session, he absorbed qi-filled extracts of beast essence he managed to buy online. Even though the transaction online was private, the investigation agencies were still tracking whenever such transactions happened by monitoring physically, so he practiced several light movement skills to leave surveillance teams.

His requirements on beast meat were low as essence convergence and radiance refining replaced it with life force and radiant energy.

The items were carefully hidden away in a locker behind stacks of textbooks and consumed as fast as he could possibly do. These potent essence meats were the key to tempering his body and forging a new self. And it had carried Han Chen from the Martial Adept to the peak of Martial Mastery. His body, once merely strong, now hummed with latent power.