The closer Chen Yuan walked toward the Central District, the denser the crowds became. Merchants shouted prices, disciples haggled over talismans, and hunters prepared expeditions into the deeper layers of the Ascendant Grounds. It was noisy, disorganized… alive.
Chen Yuan blended in easily.
No one stared.
No one pointed.
No one whispered his name.
He was just another disciple in the crowd.
Until he heard it.
"Did you hear? Someone from the rank thirty-something beat a top fifteen!"
"No, not just top fifteen—rank 13."
"It was insane! Flames that reached the Tower Clouds!"
"Lin Xue, right? The phoenix girl from the Lin clan?"
Chen Yuan stopped mid-step.
His breath hitched, just slightly.
Lin Xue…? That far?
He listened without turning his head.
"She practically melted the arena!"
"They say she forced the guards to intervene—no, that's wrong—apparently, even the guards couldn't move. That's how intense the fight got."
"And the fire? They say it was so strong it almost touched the Middle-Plane!"
Chen Yuan exhaled softly.
So she had breached through another limit.
Again.
And he had been nowhere near to witness it.
He walked forward, but the rumors didn't stop.
"If she keeps going like this, she'll reach The Cloud."
"Imagine someone from rank thirty-four reaching the top zone!"
"That Silver Lamb is watching her, I bet!"
Chen Yuan frowned.
Silver Lamb…?
Who?
But he didn't ask.
The more he heard, the heavier his steps became.
Not envy.
Just weight.
Lin Xue had always been talented.
She had always walked faster than him.
But now… she wasn't walking.
She was ascending.
He shook his head and continued toward the registration hall, but more voices caught his attention.
This time, sharp.
Worried.
Breathless.
"Hey, did you hear? That Zhao boy escaped."
"Zhao Ming? The runaway panda?"
"He's not a panda, he's—never mind. But yes! They can't catch him."
"I heard he threw one of their Elders down a ravine!"
"That's nonsense—he just ran. But he's dangerous for sure."
"They say he's a prodigy. Wickedly fast in mastering techniques. And he's not following any sect rules anymore."
"But he's being hunted by his own clan."
Chen Yuan clenched his jaw.
Zhao Ming.
Again.
The same boy Chen Yuan once defended.
The same boy he had walked side by side with, even briefly.
A runaway.
A genius.
A hunted prodigy.
And Chen Yuan?
Still here.
Still ordinary.
Still struggling to form his Style.
One more rumor spread through the crowd:
"Some say he's developing his own combat method."
"Impossible at his age!"
"They say he mixes Zhao precision with… with some kind of thunder technique! Who even taught him that?!"
Chen Yuan felt his stomach sink.
Even Zhao Ming—
lost, hunted, scared—
was forging his own path in blood and thunder.
But him?
He had spent a week fighting beasts just to gain eight percent progress.
He was not talented like them.
He did not have flames that shook the Tower.
He did not have prodigious instincts for combat.
He did not come from a great clan.
He had no genius in his blood.
No power in his name.
No lightning in his bones.
He had only—
himself.
Chen Yuan tightened his grip around The Conquest's hilt.
He remembered the Emperor's words.
He remembered the System's demands.
He remembered Elder Zhao's cruelty.
He remembered watching Lin Xue burn her name into the world.
And he remembered Zhao Ming's defiance against the Owl.
They were far ahead of him.
Far.
And yet—
That did not stop him.
He whispered to himself, voice steady, calm, unshaken:
"I don't need to be a genius."
He stepped forward through the crowd.
"I don't need a clan."
Another step.
"I don't need talent."
He walked toward the Sect Registry with firm resolve.
"I only need to keep going."
His pace didn't quicken.
It didn't falter.
Just steady.
Unyielding.
The path behind him was ordinary.
The path ahead was ordinary.
And Chen Yuan remained ordinary.
But ordinary did not mean weak.
Not anymore.
If they flew—
Then he would walk.
If they soared—
Then he would climb.
Step by step.
Strike by strike.
Failure by failure.
Until he stood beside them again.