Fame was dangerous.
Xu Ming learned this three days after dominating the Bone Forging training grounds.
At first, it was subtle.
Challenges came more frequently. Sparring partners no longer announced themselves. Attacks aimed not to test—but to cripple. Disciples with grudges began to gather, watching him with eyes full of calculation.
Xu Ming endured.
He needed combat.
He needed pressure.
He needed to grow stronger.
But he underestimated one thing.
Desperation.
It happened at dusk, when the training grounds were nearly empty. The air was thick with old blood and fading spiritual residue. Xu Ming had just finished a brutal fight, his breathing heavy, bones humming with fatigue.
That was when the formation activated.
The ground lit up.
Xu Ming's pupils shrank.
"A trap—!"
Four figures emerged from the shadows, each radiating the aura of Bone Forging peak. Their expressions were cold, practiced.
"No witnesses," one said flatly.
Xu Ming's heart sank.
This wasn't sparring.
This was an execution.
They attacked together.
Blades, fists, killing intent—no restraint. Xu Ming blocked the first strike, dodged the second, but the third slammed into his ribs with crushing force.
CRACK.
Pain exploded through his body.
He staggered, blood flooding his mouth.
Water qi rushed to heal—but it wasn't enough. Fire burned, earth anchored, metal hardened—but fatigue dulled everything.
A blade pierced his shoulder.
Xu Ming screamed.
Move!
Move!
Another strike came—aimed at his throat.
Time slowed.
Xu Ming saw it clearly.
So this is it, he thought. I still wasn't strong enough.
The blade stopped.
Not blocked.
Stopped.
Two fingers had caught it.
Perfectly.
Silently.
The air changed.
The formation shattered like glass.
The four attackers froze, terror blooming in their eyes.
Li Chen stood between Xu Ming and death.
His expression was calm.
Too calm.
"I told you," Li Chen said softly, "that I wouldn't intervene unless you were about to die."
He twisted his fingers.
The blade crumbled into dust.
Sword intent—thin, restrained, but terrifying—leaked out for a single breath.
It was enough.
One attacker collapsed unconscious.
Another dropped to his knees, screaming.
The remaining two turned to flee—
They never made it three steps.
Li Chen didn't draw a sword.
He stepped forward once.
Step.
The ground split.
Invisible sword lines flashed.
All four cultivators slammed into the earth, embedded up to their necks, alive—but broken.
Silence returned.
Xu Ming stared up at Li Chen, bloodied, shaking.
"Master…" he whispered.
Li Chen crouched and placed a hand on his chest.
Warmth spread.
Bones aligned.
Blood stilled.
Pain dulled.
"You did well," Li Chen said quietly. "But you made a mistake."
Xu Ming swallowed. "I… got careless."
"No," Li Chen replied. "You underestimated how ugly people become when they fear losing."
Li Chen stood and looked at the four broken figures.
"Remember this," he said. "From today on, you don't fight to prove strength. You fight to survive."
Xu Ming nodded weakly.
"I won't forget."
Li Chen helped him up, supporting him with one arm.
As they walked away, Li Chen's gaze flicked briefly toward the shadows beyond the training grounds.
Several hidden elders withdrew their spiritual sense instantly.
Cold sweat soaked their robes.
They had just witnessed something they were never meant to see.
And deep within Xu Ming's body, as he hovered on the edge between life and death—
The five elements fused tighter than ever before.
A faint, new rhythm formed.
Pulse Condensing.
Xu Ming didn't notice.
Li Chen did.
And for the first time since entering the lower realm, Li Chen felt something dangerously close to anger.
"…Looks like lying low won't be enough anymore," he murmured.
The heavens, listening closely, did not disagree.