The Denied Clap

At first, the murmurs were hushed—low whispers exchanged behind cupped hands, stifled chuckles barely contained. But as the words sank in, the laughter grew—soft at first, then rippling through the hall like an unstoppable wave.

Of course, they laughed.

Who wouldn't?

Even before the system informed Jiang that he was a Second-Rate Martial Artist with the skillset of a Third-Rate Martial Artist, he already knew from the fragmented memories of the old Jiang—this body had never trained. 

Never once had he seen the old Jiang step into a Hall, wield a sword, or even throw a proper punch. The only thing he had ever used was his mouth and status to suppress others.

"Young Master, should I call Master Rumei?" Bai asked through Sound Transmission, her usually calm voice tinged with worry.

Jiang stepped to the center of the hall, stretching his shoulders lazily. Then, without speaking, he turned to Bai, parting his lips slightly.

"Don't worry."

No voice. Just the motion of his lips.

Hall Master Wei remained still, watching. Then, after a long pause, he finally spoke.

"Disciple Jiang Shen, I don't know where your confidence comes from, but let me remind you—once you take the trial, if you fail, you will never set foot near the Sword Hall again." 

Wei's gaze sharpened. "You will also surrender your sword."

The crowd, once restless, froze. The murmurs died, swallowed by the weight of those words. Some disciples exchanged uneasy glances, while others stiffened, their amusement vanishing like mist before the sun.

Then—

"Unc—Hall Master, that's not a rule."

Qian Yue's voice cut through the stillness, sharp and unwavering.

Bai took a step forward, placing a firm hand on Yue's shoulder, her posture rigid. "Yue is correct," she said coldly. "And the sword of Young Master Jiang is not a weapon that can be handled by a mere Sword Hall."

The atmosphere grew darker.

Jiang, however, remained completely unfazed.

Because, quite frankly, he had no idea—

What the f-uck are they talking about?

Bai continued, her voice steady but carrying an underlying edge of steel.

"It is the sword that represents one's legitimacy as the Successor of the Great Jiang Clan." She paused, then spoke the words that shook the hall.

"It is the sword of the former patriarch… one of the Five Grandmasters—the Sword Sovereign."

Jiang's mind raced. Sword Sovereign?

Even a new player in God's Game knew about the Sword Sovereign and the Five Grandmasters. The story began by narrating their legends, and their influence echoed throughout the game's lore.

They weren't just great.

They were the greatest of all time.

People would kill each other for even a fragment of the techniques they created.

And Jiang? More than anyone, he was obsessed with the Grandmasters' legacy.

He may not have been evil, but he wasn't a saint either.

In the gaming community, they called him The Crazy Hoarder—a title earned through his relentless pursuit of Grandmaster-related items. He fought in PVP battles, took over auctions, and—when necessary—tricked other players just to get his hands on anything remotely connected to them.

The sword that severed a dragon, the—

Bai's voice rang out at the same moment the thought formed in his mind.

"Longzhan Sword."

Jiang's breath hitched. His mind screeched to a halt.

Holy—! 

His thoughts crashed into each other in a frenzy. Even I never found a single clue about that sword!

It was a myth—a legend buried so deep in the game's lore that no one ever confirmed its existence. No quests, no relics, not even a cryptic mention from NPCs.

And now you're telling me this bastard actually had it?! Where the f-uck is it now?!

His heart pounded as he sifted through fragmented memories, desperate to find any hint—anything—that could tell him where the sword had ended up.

Then—

Wei's voice cut through his spiraling thoughts.

"If Disciple Jiang Shen isn't confident, he can quit right now." Wei's expression remained unreadable. "Regardless, I will be returning the sword to its rightful owners—the Imperial Family, who were the ones to bestow it upon the Jiang Clan's former patriarch."

Jiang's brain short-circuited.

Have you lost your damn mind?! You want to hand over my legendary item to those weakling bastards who can't even lift a sword properly?!

Do you want it to rot away forever in some treasury?! You dumb f-uck!

Bai looked like she had finally had enough.

Her fingers twitched. Her hand went to her sword, gripping it tightly. Dark Qi erupted, swirling violently around her fingers.

Her eyes changed.

Black sclera. White pupils.

Like an inverted nightmare.

The pressure in the hall grew suffocating.

Then, her voice rang through the hall—cold, furious, unyielding.

"Qian Wei, is this a declaration of war against the Great Jiang Clan?"

The weight of her words crashed down.

Yet—Qian Wei did not react.

He stood there, unmoving. Unbothered. As if the storm raging before him was nothing but a passing breeze.

Jiang stared at him, baffled.

What the heck? Are you some kind of emotionless robot?! At least have some kind of facial reaction!

The hall was no longer a place of murmurs and whispers. Everyone held their breath.

And then—

Jiang raised his hands.

A dumb idea came to him.

A single, clean clap. Sharp enough to shatter the tension, seize everyone's attention—while also making him look—

Cool as hell.

He raised his hands, ready to strike—ready to break the silence with a dramatic move—

When—

A voice interrupted.

"Oh my~"

Jiang's hands froze mid-air.

A woman stepped forward from behind Wei, draped in black robes with golden embroidery—the unmistakable mark of a Hall Master.

She was tall and slender, her fitted robes emphasizing her sharp figure. Her face was elegant yet unnaturally smooth, the heavy layer of makeup barely concealing the faint wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. Her black hair, styled into a neat coil, had strands of silver peeking through, betraying her age.

She appeared instantaneously.

Jiang frowned.

What's with these people appearing out of thin air?! Always ruining my plans…

His irritation deepened as he looked at her.

Hmph! Just wait until I become a First-Rate Martial Artist. I'll be faster than all of you bastards!

But while Jiang was busy complaining internally, to everyone else, it looked like he was staring at her intently.

The woman's lips curled into a smirk.

"Oh my, Young Master Jiang, if you look at me so intensely…" She tilted her head, eyes gleaming with amusement.

"I might start to feel shy."

Jiang blinked.

His thoughts froze.

And before he could stop himself, the words slipped out.

"What is this old hag talking about?"

The entire hall fell into absolute silence.