A hush fell upon the gathering, broken only by the gasps of disbelief. Wang Lin stood, seemingly untouched, while moments ago, he appeared but a simple disciple.

Zhou Peng, his face contorted in a crimson fury, howled his outrage. He had dismissed Wang Lin as an insignificant whelp, a mere Qi Condensation disciple of the third level! Convinced his prior failure stemmed from carelessness, he would brook no further delay. Chanting incantations, his hands weaved through arcane gestures, he summoned forth the Serpent of the Sky. A monstrous python, scaled in shadow and venomous intent, materialized above the stone platform, its gaping maw promising oblivion.

But Wang Lin, with a subtle gesture, invoked the ancient art of Gravitational Manipulation. The Serpent writhed in agony, its spectral coils crushing inward as if gripped by unseen hands. With a mournful shriek, it dissipated into motes of ethereal dust. Zhou Peng, the summoner, fared no better. A sudden force struck him with the weight of mountains, his cheekbone shattering as he spewed forth a mouthful of crimson life. He was flung away like a discarded doll.

Maddened by the defeat, Zhou Peng scrambled to his feet, hair wild and clothing torn. Ignoring the blood that streamed from his shattered face, he ripped open his tunic and tore free an Immortal Talisman, a ward of potent magic usually concealed close to the heart. As the Talisman’s power coursed through him, his aura flared, his hair danced in an unnatural whirlwind, and his strength swelled, drawing gasps from the onlookers.

“Wang Lin!!!” he roared, his voice ragged with desperation. “I was unprepared before! I did not unleash my true might! Let us begin again!”

But Wang Lin, emboldened by his newfound understanding of his own power, offered no quarter. Before Zhou Peng could complete his challenge, the unseen hand of Gravitational Manipulation struck again.

The sound was sickening: a wet, thunderous *bang*. Zhou Peng, his temporary surge of power utterly negated, was once again hurled into the air, a broken doll cast aside. He landed in a heap, the life force draining from his body, his scattered spiritual energy leaving him weakened and disoriented. He clawed at the stone, a tide of bitter defeat washing over him, and then, with a final, shuddering sigh, he succumbed to unconsciousness.

Silence descended. The only sound was the ragged breathing of the onlookers, both Hengyue and the rival sect disciples alike, who had witnessed the impossible.

The venerable Huanglong, Head Disciple of Hengyue, finally emerged from his stunned state, his face alight with undisguised glee. He scrutinized Wang Lin, his admiration growing with each passing moment. “This Wang Lin,” he mused, “is a blessing upon Hengyue! To have cultivated such power, yet kept it veiled… truly, he is a warrior born! Though, I must discover the secrets of his training…”

Sun Dazhu, the usually meek recruiter, gasped for air, a triumphant light in his eyes. “The Heavens have smiled upon me!” he declared inwardly. “To grant me such a powerful disciple! My life’s greatest accomplishment is claiming Wang Lin. Now, let any of my fellow Masters dare to mock me!”

Daoxu, the Head Disciple of the rival sect, remained in stunned silence. The first victory had been dismissed as luck, but these subsequent triumphs spoke of undeniable strength. But the Immortal Talisman! Zhou Peng was on the cusp of the thirteenth level of Qi Condensation, a level equal to his own, yet he was swatted down like an insect!

What depths of power lay hidden within Wang Lin? Daoxu probed with his spiritual sense, yet found nothing but an impenetrable veil.

The old man with the ruddy face, one of the sect elders, chuckled to himself. “I saw the spark of potential in Wang Lin from the beginning,” he declared. “A keen eye, that is what I possess!”

The middle-aged man, who had vouched for Wang Lin’s uncle, Jingtie, whispered to himself, “Fate! It is fate that binds me to this child. Otherwise, why would I have so vehemently urged his entry? I have served Hengyue well this day. The Sect Leader must acknowledge my contribution!”

Standing nearby, a man with a sallow complexion stroked his beard and nodded sagely. “I knew when I saw him tested, his resolve was extraordinary. Look now, he proves my foresight correct. A pity Sun Dazhu snatched him away. Wang Lin should have been my disciple, Zhang Rencai’s student!”

Wang Zhuo, who had once looked down on Wang Lin, was now jolted awake by the display of strength. “So… he was always this powerful…” he groaned inwardly. “I mocked him… He will surely seek vengeance. Alas… what am I to do?”

The woman named Zhou stared at Wang Lin with sparkling eyes. She was now certain he had been concealing his true abilities. The memory of her earlier pity, thinking him a mere third level disciple, burned her cheeks. “That Wang Lin,” she thought with a delighted flutter of her heart, “He is so sly! Pretending to be weak, even deceiving me! I must coax his secrets from him later!”

The woman named Xu blinked repeatedly, her gaze darting between Wang Lin and Wang Zhuo. “He cannot compare to Senior Brother Wang Zhuo. Wang Zhuo should be bathed in glory… Yet, Wang Lin’s power! To humiliate their champion so completely… it was quite satisfying!”

“Wang Lin has been playing the fool,” a wary inner disciple muttered to his companion. “Such duplicity! I am fortunate I never mocked him openly. Those who did, however, will soon face their reckoning!”

“This is disastrous,” another inner disciple lamented, his face etched with worry. “I mocked him relentlessly! Now he could crush me with a flick of his finger! Why would you hide such power? It is shameless! They call him the Black Heart King. I must find a way to ingratiate myself…”

“Surely, Wang Lin is a magnanimous soul,” another inner disciple declared, trying to convince himself. “He would not hold old insults against me. A master would never stoop to the level of a cur. Yes, surely Senior Brother Wang is far too enlightened to remember my transgressions!”

The third senior brother of the Danfang inhaled sharply, his face masked with careful neutrality. “This is… problematic. Wang Lin and Wang Hao are relatives. I hear their bond is strong… What am I to do? Three days ago, I could have shown Wang Hao mercy, but now… if I seek to aid Wang Hao, I will face Wang Lin’s wrath directly! Wang Hao must be silenced! After the competition, when no witnesses remain… I hope this will be enough to placate him.”

Lu Song, his gaze sweeping over his own purple robes, smiled wryly. “A shift in the winds of Hengyue,” he murmured to himself. “This Wang Lin is no simpleton. Such cunning, to mask his power and reveal it at such a pivotal moment! His name will soon echo throughout the land of Zhao. Wang Lin is a man to befriend, not to antagonize!” In a swift and silent decision, Lu Song resolved to treat Wang Lin with the respect he deserved.

Zhang Kuang, the disciple who had exchanged spiritual spring water for pills, was now pale and shaken. He had dismissed the spring water as merely rich in spiritual energy and thought no more of the trade.

The world had changed. The hierarchy had been disrupted. The rise of Wang Lin had only just begun.