The Central Hall's minor competition, where the pills Lin Feng made were submitted, was held the following afternoon. Lin Feng, as the Waste Disposal Disciple, was allowed to observe from a position near the back, just inside the entrance to the Outer Sect Training Arena.
The pill purity results were posted on a public scroll. Lin Wei, Lin Feng's cousin, was waiting anxiously near the front.
Lin Feng ignored him and focused on consolidating the stability of his 3rd Stage Mortal Body. The difference was palpable. He could now subtly draw minute traces of ambient Qi in addition to the Scrap Qi, meaning he was no longer entirely reliant on refuse—though the trash was still vastly more potent.
Lin Wei finally rushed back, his face a mixture of frustrated pride and fury.
"Cousin," Lin Wei sneered, his voice low and tight. "My three pills scored an average of 88%. I placed third in the entire competition."
Lin Feng raised an eyebrow, feigning mild surprise. "Congratulations, Senior Cousin. A respectable rank."
"Respectable?" Lin Wei hissed, leaning in close, his voice thick with suppressed rage. "The first and second places had 93% and 91% purity, made by actual alchemy disciples with proper furnaces. And then there's me, who had to rely on your inexplicable, suspiciously lucky trash pills just to place! I deserve first!"
Lin Wei's pride was wounded, but his placement was secure. He couldn't help but feel indebted to, and therefore hate, Lin Feng.
"Don't think for a moment you helped me, waste spirit," Lin Wei continued, his voice sharp and dismissive. "I know you didn't steal them, but you certainly found someone else's discarded success. That luck will run out."
"Perhaps," Lin Feng responded calmly, looking past Lin Wei toward the arena.
The competition concluded, and the next event began: a series of sparring matches for Mortal Body disciples, designed to test skill and martial technique.
Lin Wei, energized by his third-place ranking, was eager to prove his true strength. He signed up for a match against a weak, 4th Stage disciple named Luo Jin.
Lin Feng watched Lin Wei enter the arena. Lin Wei was fast and flashy, executing the standard Azure Cloud Palm technique taught to all Outer Disciples. But his movements were sloppy, driven by arrogance rather than focused power. Lin Wei quickly defeated Luo Jin.
"Who else challenges the genius of the Lin Clan?" Lin Wei yelled into the arena, pointing aggressively toward the stands. His ego was inflating dangerously.
Lin Feng felt the timing was perfect. Lin Wei was boastful, tired from his recent match, and surrounded by disciples who expected another quick victory.
Without a word, Lin Feng stepped forward, walking slowly down the tiered steps toward the dusty arena floor. He looked entirely unremarkable—a dusty, low-grade Waste Disposal Disciple holding nothing but his iron demeanor.
The crowd went silent. Whispers erupted.
"Is that the trash collector?"
"Lin Wei's cousin? Is he crazy?"
"He's only 3rd Stage at best, look at his robes."
Lin Wei stared at Lin Feng, his initial triumph turning instantly to fury. "You! What is this joke, waste spirit? Get out of the ring! I won't lower myself to fight trash!"
"A fair challenge, Senior Cousin," Lin Feng said, stepping onto the cracked, stone arena floor. "Or are you afraid that my suspicious luck might extend to the martial arts as well?"
The provocation was simple, elegant, and cut Lin Wei to the quick. Lin Wei's face turned scarlet. He wouldn't back down now.
"Fine!" Lin Wei roared. "I'll use this match to teach you that filth stays in the dirt! I'll put you back in the hospital where you belong!"
The referee, an older, bored Outer Sect Elder, announced the start: "Begin!"
Lin Wei didn't wait. He lunged forward, gathering Qi into his palm and executing the Azure Cloud Palm—a swift, wind-whipping strike designed to overwhelm a lower-stage opponent.
Lin Feng stood his ground. He had gained a significant amount of metallic essence while clearing the slag, which had subconsciously reinforced his muscles and bones. More importantly, he had secretly acquired his first combat technique from the shredded library scroll, as foreshadowed in the summary: the Scrap Iron Palm.
Lin Feng didn't evade. He focused the entirety of his 3rd Stage Scrap Qi and channeled it through his right arm, giving his palm strike the crushing density of refined metal. It was crude, heavy, and lacked the elegance of the Azure Cloud technique, but it was potent.
When the two palms collided—Lin Wei's flashy Azure Cloud Palm meeting Lin Feng's dense Scrap Iron Palm—the resulting sound was not a clap, but the heavy thud of metal hitting stone.
Lin Wei's face went white. The force was astronomical, far exceeding the strength of a normal 3rd Stage cultivator. Lin Wei's entire arm snapped backward, and he was thrown clear across the arena floor, sliding through the dust. He landed in a heap near the boundary, clutching his wrist and whimpering in shock and pain.
The entire arena crowd was stunned into silence. A 5th Stage cultivator, using a standard sect technique, defeated in a single, devastating blow by the Waste Disposal Disciple who, only yesterday, was assumed to be crippled and stuck at the 1st Stage.
Lin Feng stood perfectly still, his Scrap Qi quickly dissipating back into his core. He hadn't expended unnecessary energy.
He looked down at the defeated, groaning Lin Wei, his gaze cold and flat. "Luck, Cousin," Lin Feng stated quietly, loud enough for the stunned disciples nearby to hear. "I suppose my scrap grabber taught me how to put metal into a strike."
He didn't wait for the Elder to announce the victor. He simply turned, stepped out of the ring, and walked back toward the gate of the Scrap Yard, leaving the astonished, whispering disciples, the furious Lin Wei, and the baffled Elder behind him.
The first true face-slap was delivered. The Trash Collector was no longer a joke. He was now a burgeoning, terrifying enigma.
[Major Face-Slap Recorded. Reputation Gain: +50 (Outer Sect Terror).]
[Cultivation Base: 3rd Stage Mortal Body (5%)]