Chapter 6 - Collecting Interest

Long Chen looked in the direction of the approaching crowd, his eyes turning cold. Like stars surrounding the moon, a group of people ushered in a man. The man's face was as handsome as jade, his stature tall and imposing—it was none other than Zhou Yaoyang, the heir of the Barbarian Marquis, who had once mercilessly beaten Long Chen in the arena, leaving him nearly dead before throwing him off the stage. Zhou Yaoyang, being the legitimate firstborn of the Barbarian Marquis, stood out among the heirs with his formidable cultivation, making him exceedingly popular. As Zhou Yaoyang entered, he noticed Long Chen among the group. Smiling slightly, he approached, looking at Long Chen. "About last time, I'm terribly sorry for beating you to the point of not recognizing your own mother." His words offered an apology, yet his face bore no trace of remorse. His tone brimmed with condescension, as if he were a king looking down from on high at Long Chen. "No worries, soon I'll beat you until even your grandmother wouldn't recognize you," Long Chen replied with a faint smile, though inwardly he simmered with anger. On the day he had regained consciousness, only his mother and the old alchemist had been present. This insult must have been leaked by that old fool. Zhou Yaoyang's words revealed to Long Chen that the old man was in their camp. Though Long Chen's injuries had seemed severe, none were life-threatening. Even the gash on the back of his head, though bloody, was not truly serious. There was no need for such high-grade pills for his treatment. It was clear these people had sought to frighten his mother and deplete her savings. They aimed not to kill him, but to weaken his family's finances, thrusting them further into hardship. A conspiracy surely lurked behind these actions. "Long Chen, are you courting death? I fear you've forgotten the pain now that the scars have healed. Do you wish to be beaten half-dead by Brother Yaoyang again?" "Indeed, for a worthless wretch who can't even cultivate, you sure talk big. You're asking for it." "A fool like this being counted among us heirs is an insult." Before Zhou Yaoyang could speak, those around him were already shouting insults at Long Chen, spittle flying. "Long Chen, though we're both considered heirs, you're way down in the dirt while I'm high in the sky. You're nothing more than an ant that can only look up at me in awe. So even if I bully you, you'll just have to endure, or the consequence will be like last time: you'll end up beaten to a pulp like a dead dog," Zhou Yaoyang pointed a finger at Long Chen's nose. "Smack!" Long Chen smiled slightly. In a flash, before anyone could react, he reached out and clamped down on Zhou Yaoyang's outstretched finger with a crisp snap. Zhou Yaoyang let out a cry of agony as a severe pain shot through him; the connection of his ten fingers to his heart made him involuntarily stoop. Though a mighty cultivator at the seventh layer of the Qi Condensation Realm, his physical body was only somewhat stronger than an ordinary person unless he'd reached the Blood Condensation Realm. Moreover, the suddenness of the attack left him no time to marshal his strength in defense; once a critical point was seized, he was no different from a regular person. Gazing down at the contorted face of the agonized Zhou Yaoyang, Long Chen said quizzically, "High and mighty? Looking down? Are you talking about yourself?" The unexpected turn of events shocked everyone. Zhou Yaoyang was in too much pain to speak, and his companions finally reacted, lunging at Long Chen. "Bastard, let go of Brother Yaoyang!" "Whoever comes near, I'll smash them!" As his entourage rushed to Zhou Yaoyang's aid, planning to overwhelm Long Chen, Long Chen noticed a towering figure emerging beside him, issuing a thunderous shout that caused the attackers' ears to ring. Long Chen's lips curled into a smile upon recognizing Shi Feng, who had appeared to his side. The other heirs, intent on charging at Long Chen, halted at the sight of Shi Feng—known for his aloofness and preference for solitude, yet the most skilled among them, his presence alone was intimidating. A sudden hush fell over the Hall of Literature, the only sound being Zhou Yaoyang's pained whimpers. "What are you all doing?" A stern voice suddenly cut through the tension as an elderly man entered, causing everyone's expression to shift toward him. This elder was a lecturer in the Hall of Literature, reputed to be an upright scholar of integrity and stern demeanor. "Fighting in the Hall of Literature is grounds for a month of detainment under the law. Do you wish to try it?" the old man huffed coldly. Long Chen's eyes darted as he released Zhou Yaoyang's deformed finger, hurriedly turning to smile at the elder. "Sir, you've misunderstood. We weren't fighting, merely conducting a test." "Oh? A test? What sort of test?" The elder seemed unmoved by frivolous excuses, staring coldly at Long Chen. "We were testing how long one finger could withstand an assault by five others. From this test, we concluded that the power of unity is insurmountable. Even the strongest singular finger will tire, but supported by companions, it continuously draws strength, growing more resilient and enduring. Both Zhou Yaoyang and I gleaned insights into the nature of strength from this exercise, which will greatly inform our future cultivation. Isn't that right, Brother Zhou?" Long Chen cast a meaningful look at Zhou Yaoyang. Zhou Yaoyang was so furious he nearly fainted, yet he realized he had no choice but to swallow this humiliation. Denying the explanation would mean enacting punishments which included both him and Long Chen being detained, a breach he could not afford. "Indeed," Zhou Yaoyang managed, struggling to keep his voice level. The acute pain had left it hoarse and scratchy. The elder eyed Long Chen, a hint of wry amusement flickering in his gaze, before nodding. "Very well, I won't hold this against you, but remember there will be no such nonsense here in the future." The crowd collectively sighed at Long Chen's fortune. The elder clearly recognized his rambling for what it was, yet let them off regardless. "Mark my words," Zhou Yaoyang whispered through gritted teeth, his voice low enough for only Long Chen to hear. Long Chen's move had been ruthless, not only twisting his finger but somehow tangling the tendons like a pretzel, rendering Zhou Yaoyang helpless against the pain. "Feel free to test me again anytime, Brother Zhou," Long Chen replied with a courteous smile. You little brat, this is just a small interest on what you owe; the real payback is yet to come. Over two hundred heirs settled quietly into their seats, and the elder nodded approvingly before launching into a lecture full of classical sayings that quickly had them drowsy but afraid to sleep. Though the elder had no cultivation prowess, his words ruled the Imperial Academy. Offending him meant expulsion—and forfeiting access to the afternoon martial arts archive. It was like having two eggs—one rotten, one good—but you had to eat the rotten one to get to the good. The elder lectured on historical anecdotes and the governance of statecraft, agriculture, forestry, fishing, and animal husbandry. Even Long Chen struggled to stay awake. However, Fatty Yu and the others listened intently, as they saw no other prospects but to land official positions through learned knowledge, given their inability to cultivate. After enduring the lecture's agony, relief came with the lunchtime bell, and the heirs swarmed towards the Combat Skill Pavilion. Even those unable to cultivate, like Fatty Yu, joined the rush, hoping to try their luck with the numerous skills on offer. The pavilion was three stories tall, yet only the ground floor was open to heirs, with countless combat skills and cultivation methods crammed across seventeen bookshelves. The sheer volume was dizzying. "Brother Yaoyang, I've already issued a life-and-death duel challenge to Long Chen. This time I'm definitely going to kill him and avenge you," Li Hao said, sneaking up to Zhou Yaoyang respectfully. By then, Zhou Yaoyang had managed to suppress the finger's pain with his Qi, though the joint was dislocated and the tendons a mess. He needed an alchemist to heal it. "I couldn't kill him last time because it wasn't the right moment," Zhou Yaoyang replied, then added, "Tell me, how did you lose to him before?" "Sigh, I let my guard down, and Long Chen seized the opportunity," Li Hao replied bitterly. "I'm furious I let a useless wretch beat me once." Having lost face, gossip circulated among others that only infuriated Li Hao further, leading to a murderous resolve against Long Chen. "Long Chen must not die, at least not now. Don't ruin the greater plan," Zhou Yaoyang reiterated for clarity. "Then what? Just let him go?" Li Hao questioned, unsatisfied. Zhou Yaoyang glanced at his misshapen finger and replied through gritted teeth, "Even if we don't kill him, we can still take a few parts off him." Li Hao's eyes sparkled with excitement, "Great! I'm going to crush his balls and take an eye. His looks infuriate me!" Zhou Yaoyang and Li Hao exchanged an eagerness-filled glance, unaware that Long Chen, seemingly browsing the bookshelves nonchalantly, also grinned, his expression darker and like a leopard sizing up two unsuspecting sheep. Echoing their murmur, Long Chen's spirit power precisely tracked the pair's movements, though too faint to hear their words. He could guess their intent from lip-reading. Seeing them feigning interest in the shelves, Long Chen dismissed them from his mind, focusing instead on finding his goal. Long Chen sought a martial skill to complement his existing knowledge from the Nine Star Hegemon Body Art, predominantly about pill refining. He desperately needed combat skills. As he reached for a technique, a swarthy-faced youth grabbed it first, remarking, "Apologies, but this heir got to it first." Without even glancing at Long Chen, he started thumbing through the pages, blatantly ignoring him. Long Chen frowned. This was deliberate. But rather than retaliate, he moved to another shelf. Spotting a palm technique, he prepared to reach for it, only for the dusky youth to intervene yet again. "Apologies, but this—" "Smack." Long Chen's slap cut him off mid-sentence, the force sending him sprawling away. . .