The crowd on the street parted instinctively, clearing a path as murmurs rippled through. Heads craned, eyes fixed on the figure approaching from the distance—a tall, black-robed man with a chiseled, resolute face, radiating grit and vigor.


    Whispers buzzed; many recognized him. He was no stranger in Black Cloud Town—a name that carried weight.


    Clang! The longsword Fang Zhenyu had swatted away quivered, slapping the ground before zipping back to its owner’s hand. He strode up to the standoff, his voice ringing out clear and bold.


    “It’s me—Bai Tian, Taibai.”


    “Dad!”


    “Master!”


    Bai Ruoyue and the crew burst with joy, their faces lighting up with uncontainable excitement.


    “It’s really him—the Taibai Hall Master, gone for two months!”


    “But this Tianlong guy’s True Blood—how’s Bai Tian packing that kind of punch?!”


    “No way he’s trading blows with a True Blood!”


    The onlookers erupted, disbelief crashing over them—this was the guy behind that insane stunt?


    Lu Qingmo glanced at Bai Tian, a flicker of relief settling in her chest.


    “Taibai Hall Master, Bai Tian?” Fang Zhenyu’s gloomy eyes widened with shock. “You’ve broken through to True Blood?”


    He couldn’t wrap his head around it. A backwater hall master—even with some youthful wandering—how’d he climb this high? Fang Zhenyu had clawed his way up Tianlong Gate, hitched himself to the Gulong Peak Master’s daughter, and leaned on his father-in-law to snag True Blood and an elder gig. This Bai Tian—what’s his deal?


    “Tianlong Gate—here to soul-search my disciples?” Bai Tian shot him a sidelong look.


    “Get lost!”


    His roar exploded outward, rippling like thunder, rattling souls to the brink. Clouds overhead shredded apart, the street cracked underfoot, and folks clutched their ears against the piercing echo. Taibai’s crew felt a rush of clarity.


    Han studied his master, gears turning. Wait a sec—Master’s the real main character here, isn’t he? Young prodigy, out adventuring, facing death, scoring epic breaks—his tale had to be a wild ride. Then, instead of flexing that fortune, he slipped back to Black Cloud Town with a kid in tow. Something’s up there. Plus, since Han joined Taibai, Bai Tian had swooped in clutch twice—loaded backstory, clutch saves, and a daughter? Textbook protagonist vibes.


    So what’s that make me? A glance at Bai Ruoyue—oh crap, I’m the rogue stealing the girl. But then—nah, I’m safe; rogues don’t die easy. A peek at Lu Qingmo—double crap, I’m the rogue king. Nah, that seals it—I’m the real lead.


    With Bai Tian back, True Blood strong, and Lu Qingmo on deck, Han relaxed—plenty of room for wild tangents now. One Fang Zhenyu? What’s he gonna do? Game over.


    Fang Zhenyu’s face darkened, cool mask slipping. “Bai Tian, you’re blocking Tianlong Gate’s business?”


    Lu Qingmo chuckled. “Oh, now you’re Tianlong again?” The sarcasm dripped—earlier, he’d dodged the elder tag to dodge blame; now he waved it proud.


    “You’d dare touch my disciples?” Bai Tian stepped forward, aura blasting like a volcano, shaking everyone’s core—Fang Zhenyu’s included. Fresh to True Blood or not, no one scoffed. Reaching that tier meant no weaklings; even top prodigies struggled to leap tiers here. Fang Zhenyu? No prodigy in his youth. Bai Tian might not outmatch him yet, but bypassing him and Lu Qingmo to nab Han and Bai Ruoyue? Pipe dream.


    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    “Lay a hand on my disciples—Tianlong or not, bring it!” Bai Tian stood firm, zero give.


    “They might’ve killed my son,” Fang Zhenyu growled.


    Bai Ruoyue dashed to her dad, spilling the Tianlong-Fang Cheng saga quick. Bai Tian sneered, “Well, well, well! Didn’t think you’d stoop to bullying Taibai like this—time to settle that score?”


    “Exploring danger zones—casualties happen,” he added. “That cavern’s crawling with Bone Refining beasts—Visceral deaths? Par for the course. Yet Tianlong pulls this stunt after the fact. Guess your disciples are forged from immortal gold—too precious to scratch.”


    “Right!” Bai Ruoyue jumped in. “Next time we hit a danger zone with Tianlong around, everyone else should just back off—give ‘em the floor! If they die, no excuses to harass the rest of us with threats and bribes. Just gotta convince those beasts to roll over for your disciples—wonder if they’ll buy Tianlong’s clout.”


    The father-daughter tag-team echoed out, striking a chord far and wide—folks nodded along. Damn straight! Tianlong’s tyranny was nuts—what if your kid got munched by a beast? We all gotta die for it? Even non-cavern vets felt the sting.


    Tianlong’s crew glared daggers at Bai Tian—no one dared yap now. Fang Zhenyu’s hotshot disciple, all bravado earlier, zipped it—True Blood fear kicking in. Tianlong pride, huh? Taibai’s seven had faced Fang Zhenyu head-on—Lu Qingmo and Bai Tian absent—without blinking.


    “Ha.” A light laugh cut through. Figures popped up on nearby rooftops—sharp, standout types. Teens filtered into the street below. The laugh came from Yan Yanran, Suzhen Palace’s poised leader.


    “Tianlong Gate—big flexers, huh?” she said. “Clueless folks might think this is Haizhou—West Sea turf.”


    Her tone dripped with displeasure—this is Tianzhou, pal.


    Shenhua Sect’s elder, a calm old man, eyed the scene from above. “Wonder if Elder Fang’s planning to soul-search my disciples too?” he mused aloud. “If so, I’ll have ‘em cooperate—search away.”


    “Min Xing.”


    “Here, Master.”


    “Tell your dad—Elder Min—who rummaged your soul. This old coot’ll apologize for failing to shield you.”


    “Yes, Master.”


    Anyone could hear the sarcasm—Shenhua’s duo was pissed. No shock—Taibai down, they’d be next.


    Fang Zhenyu’s face flickered—fury bubbling. Shenhua Sect wasn’t Tianlong-tier, but not pushovers either. His father-in-law could flex Tianlong’s full weight, but him? Just a Gulong Peak elder. Other factions watched, cold and unimpressed—Haizhou’s deal was old news: Tianlong, West Sea’s lapdog, siding with them over locals.


    “Get out,” Bai Tian barked, shooing Tianlong off. “Taibai’s too small for your grand asses—linger, and I won’t play nice.”


    Han mentally high-fived his master—damn, he’s got guts!


    Fang Zhenyu exhaled, cooling off. “If I’m not welcome, I’ll bounce—but!” He zeroed in on Han. “I’ve heard plenty about Black Cloud’s top genius. My disciples wanna spar…”


    He shifted to Bai Tian. “Youngsters scrapping—Hall Master Bai won’t nix that, right? Taibai’s the top dog here—surely you’re not dodging a challenge?”


    “Hai Zhen!”


    “Here, Master!”


    The cocky youth from earlier stepped up, bellowing, “Tianlong inner disciple Hai Zhen requests a lesson from Black Cloud’s finest!”


    Han sized him up—境界 pegged. “Brother Han,” Hai Zhen grinned, a sly edge to it, “hoping for a friendly bout today. Not free? I’ll swing by tomorrow—or whenever works. Facing you, the top genius, has been my dream since I heard your name. Black Cloud’s big shot wouldn’t duck a fight with me, right?”


    His intent was crystal—I’m on you ‘til we clash.


    From the steps, Han looked down at him. “What’re you to call me ‘brother’?”


    Hai Zhen’s face darkened, mouth opening—cut off by Han’s shout. “Wish granted—not a spar, though!”


    He locked onto Hai Zhen, voice booming. “Deathmatch!”


    It tore through the air, echoing across the area. “A spar? Kid stuff! You want a fight? Let’s make it life-or-death—fate decides!”


    The crowd gasped. Tianlong’s crew paled. Fang Zhenyu squinted; faction leaders blinked in shock.


    Hai Zhen’s expression flipped—glancing at Fang Zhenyu, getting nada. Still, he caught the drift. “You’re serious about a deathmatch?”


    “What, scared?” Han taunted, eyebrow cocked. “Beat it out of Black Cloud then!”


    “Fine—deathmatch it is!” Hai Zhen bit down.


    Qi law banned private brawls, but for grudges too deep to bury, the court had a fix: deathmatches—legal kills. File at the magistrate, get Ghost God and Martial Stabilization Divisions to witness, then slug it out. Winner takes all—loser’s loot included. Grudges die with it—no revenge after, or you’re defying Qi law.


    With the call made, folks scrambled to fetch officials and Martial Stabilization reps. Han gave Hai Zhen one last look, eyes drifting shut.


    Tianlong’s smug faces—he was done with ‘em. Seeking death? He’d oblige. I’m pissed now.