Bai Ruoyue’s eyes narrowed with suspicion at Han’s explanation.


    “Why’d you have to sneak around to sense your six organ gods?”


    “Little Brother, you’re hiding something shady.”


    Han jumped in quick. “An Lang, she’s calling you—hear that?”


    He did have a ghost—An Lang, living proof (or dead proof, rather).


    Bai Ruoyue huffed, glaring at him, her face inches away. Han quirked an odd grin.


    “Senior Sister, if you’re that eager, I’ll swing by tonight. An Lang’s right here—cool your jets.”


    She froze, then flushed red, catching his drift and flashing back to last time. “Bam!” A fist slammed into him. “No respect—talking to your Senior Sister like that!”


    An Lang watched from the sidelines, intrigued. Weird vibes.


    They tidied up and left the chamber.


    “Little Brother, how’d you break through already?” Bai Ruoyue asked, stunned and baffled. “It’s been what—days since you mastered two organs? That’s nuts.”


    “You’re speeding up—how?”


    “Totally makes sense,” Han said, cool as ever. “Senior Sister, how’s my talent?”


    “Unheard of, unseen—mind-blowingly unreal.”


    “There you go,” he said, throwing up a playful shrug. “With talent like mine, a random epiphany or explosive leap’s no big deal, right?”


    “…”


    She had no comeback. Fair point—no issue there. Something felt off, but she couldn’t argue—Han’s track record backed him up.


    When word spread that Han had hit mid-Visceral Realm, the others were floored—more than Bai Ruoyue. No way—how’s he pulling this off?


    “Little Brother, this breakthrough’s making me look bad,” Shen Long said, scratching his head.


    “No worries, Bro,” Shen Yu chimed in, deadpan. “Once the gap widens even more, you’ll get used to it—no more awkwardness.”


    “…”


    Sweet sister, is that your idea of comfort? Stabbing me with a smile?


    Back when Shen Long first met Han, he was Visceral entry-level, while Han was still Flesh Refining—easy pickings by the Yunjiang shore, fending off the “pig” sniffing around his sister. Now? Han’s mid-Visceral, and Shen Long’s still stuck at square one. Guess I’ve got no face left at Taibai.


    Sure, Shen Long hadn’t stagnated—he’d refined a few more organs since then. But next to Han’s warp-speed climb? Snail pace. No biggie—everyone’s progress looked sluggish beside him.


    Zhang Yuantao marveled, “Little Brother stepped into Visceral Realm and could already tangle with late-stage pros. Now, with all six organs perfect and cycling flawlessly, his power’s spiked. In Visceral Realm, hardly anyone’s his match—maybe even Bone Refiners aren’t out of reach.”


    “Spot on,” Shen Long agreed. “He’s top three at the hall now. No Bone Refiners here, but Senior Sister and Little Brother outshine them anyway.”


    Shen Yu piped up quietly, “Even before this, Little Brother was top three—who’d outrank him?”


    Shen Long bristled—she’s tearing me down like that? Doesn’t she know who’s boss?—then let it slide. What could he do? She was his sister—he’d eat it.


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    Han’s leap stirred the crew—chatter buzzed hot.


    He Feng grinned. “With Little Brother’s strength now, he could sweep those outsider disciples in Black Cloud Town—no competition.”


    “Hmph, all show, no substance,” Bai Ruoyue snorted. “Big egos, small skills.”


    “They’re from major sects and clans,” Han said with a laugh. “A little swagger’s par for the course.”


    He got their arrogance—they had the chops to back it. Simple rule: strut all you want, just don’t be a dumbass about it.


    “In just five days, six more factions rolled in after True Extremity Sect and the Mo clan,” Zhang Yuantao sighed. “Master always said big sect and clan disciples might show up someday, but we never saw ‘em—figured they’d skipped us. Didn’t expect them all piling in this month, wave after wave. Black Cloud’s shifting every day.”


    Han recalled Yun Yuannan’s words—the Mountain God would likely stir this month. “These factions are sharp,” he said, shaking his head. “They only pop up when it counts—showing early would’ve been pointless.”


    Since the month kicked off, outsider factions had swarmed in, proving Yun Yuannan right.


    “But it’s not peak time yet,” Bai Ruoyue added. “Among these out-of-towners’ young blood, the real core disciples haven’t shown. Just inner disciples—apprentice-level grunts.”


    Han smirked. “True prodigies? They save the grand entrance for last—gotta flex their status, right? ‘What’s my rank? Mingling with inner-door scrubs and petty deacons? Please.’”


    Deacons and senior deacons might outmuscle true prodigies now, but rank-wise? Not even close. Some even pledged loyalty to their sect’s prodigies, lapdogs on a leash. Exceptions existed—post-Day Roaming or Bone Refining, some prodigies climbed from deacon gigs, grinding their way up. Those were a different breed.


    “Don’t care how many factions or bodies show up—just don’t mess with us,” Bai Ruoyue said.


    These five days, Black Cloud Town had been a whirlwind—six factions crashing the stage. Four were Tianzhou locals with Yin God or True Blood heavyweights: the Guo and Shen clans from the state capital, alongside the Dong and Mo clans, the big four ruling the city’s family scene. Two were Tianzhou sects, matching the clans’ clout. The last pair? Little Sage Temple from next-door Qingzhou and Tianzhou’s Yellow Maple Valley—both near Shenhua Sect’s level.


    In Tianzhou, sects reigned supreme; the four clans, the family front-runners, couldn’t touch them. Each region had its own flavor—Lu Qingmo’s Wei Region, for instance, flipped the script: the Wei clan owned it, every sect, clan, and hall bowing to their whim.


    Shen Yu giggled, hugging Bai Ruoyue’s arm. “With you and Little Brother here, who’d dare mess with us?”


    Shen Long stayed quiet, sulking. Ugh, failing as her big-bro hero—my bad.


    These five days weren’t free of outsiders knocking on Taibai’s door—some to woo, some to spar. All got sent packing. Han and Bai Ruoyue’s strength shut down the riffraff—no one dared push it. Outmatched, their tough talk fell flat, and their elders wouldn’t dare step in openly.


    Taibai held its ground, but other local halls and clans? They ate dirt. The outsiders’ first move was picking fights with Black Cloud’s talents—testing their mettle like it was a playbook. Results? Predictable beatdowns. Still, those with grit came out tougher—Han envied that. Transformation’s sweet—not like me, where scrapping these guys is a foregone conclu-sion. Annoying.


    Other halls had decent disciples, but against wave after wave of sect elites? Outclassed. Losses piled up, spotlighting Taibai’s unbowed stance—making rivals like Tenglong and Kuangdao look downright shaky. Taibai’s two-gen genius duo crushes all! Rivals crash and burn—dull as dishwater! Taibai’s rep soared, outshining the rest—competitors floundering only made them glow brighter.


    Since that Yun family visit, Han stopped dodging outsider scraps. They wanted a piece? Fine—time to show Black Cloud’s top dog had bite. Stake that flag!


    That night, back at the peach grove, he froze. A gaggle of chattering beauties swarmed the place—his eyes nearly popped. His arrival drew their stares, a flurry of curious gazes.


    A poised, elegant woman beside Lu Qingmo chuckled. “This must be Black Cloud’s top genius, Han, right?”


    The giggling girls hushed under her look. “This is Yan Yanran from Tianzhou’s Suzhen Palace,” Lu Qingmo introduced.


    “Greetings, Senior Yan,” Han said.


    “No need for formalities,” Yan Yanran replied with a refined smile, then turned to Lu Qingmo. “It’s getting late—I should head out.”


    Lu Qingmo nodded, seeing her off. When she returned, Han asked, “Aunt Mo, who’s she? Why’s she here?”


    “Suzhen Palace—Tianzhou’s true overlord,” she said coolly. “A top-tier orthodoxy, basically running the show there.”


    “So, Xuandu Temple’s league?”


    “Yep.”


    Han sucked in a breath. Big boss alert! “First top-tier crew to hit Black Cloud Town.”


    Tianlong Gate didn’t even rank close—Hizhou lacked any orthodoxy that big.


    “Don’t underestimate them,” Lu Qingmo warned. “They only take female disciples, but that’s no weakness. Suzhen’s mystic arts are world-famous.”


    “Who’d dare scoff at a top faction’s disciples?” Han said wryly. “Why’d they swing by?”


    “I knew their former saintess—visited Suzhen Palace a few times.”


    “She’s gone?” Han asked. “Why ‘former’?”


    Lu Qingmo gave him a weird look. “She’s ascended to insane heights—now a high-up, not a saintess. They’ve got a new one.”


    Han cringed, resisting a facepalm. Dumbass question! “Aunt Mo, I hit mid-Visceral Realm,” he said, switching gears with the good news.


    But instead of joy, her brow furrowed, eyes sharpening. “What’d you do?!”


    He pouted, wounded. You’re yelling at me?!