A lot can happen in two months—enough to make Han seriously wonder if Bai Ruoyue was some kind of trouble magnet.


    Himself? No way. Absolutely not.


    After hearing about Zuo Tianzheng’s antics, Bai Tian gave a slight nod. “This Zuo Tianzheng’s been busy. Showing up in Black Cloud Town right after I went into seclusion… talk about bad timing.”


    If Zuo had arrived just a bit earlier, he’d have faced Bai Tian at the Marrow Cleansing Realm. Now, he’d be dealing with the freshly minted True Blood Realm master of Tai Bai.


    “That guy’s no saint!” Bai Ruoyue declared without hesitation. Beyond the strong suspicion that Zuo had sent assassins after them, his everyday behavior alone was enough to sour her opinion of him.


    Han filled Bai Tian in on the ambush they’d survived, laying out their final conclusions about who was behind it.


    “That really happened?” Bai Tian’s expression darkened, a faint wave of relief washing over him.


    “Yeah, it was dicey,” Bai Ruoyue said. “Good thing Little Junior Brother’s so strong—he turned the tables on that Manifest Saint cultivator and saved me.”


    “Thank goodness for you, Han,” Bai Tian said, his voice heavy. “If not for you…” He couldn’t even finish the thought. Bai Ruoyue was his only daughter, his emotional anchor for years. Losing her was unthinkable.


    He’d only emerged from seclusion a few days ago—back when Han and Bai Ruoyue were ambushed, he was still deep in the process of condensing his true blood.


    “Did you dig up anything else?” Bai Tian asked.


    “We traced it as far as the two divine materials, but the trail went cold after that,” Han replied.


    “That won’t happen again—not here in Black Cloud Town,” Bai Tian said, his tone brimming with unshakable confidence.


    Once the group had brought him fully up to speed on everything that had happened, Bai Tian couldn’t hide his satisfaction. Every single disciple had kept pushing forward, never slacking. The seven of them were tight-knit—no petty squabbles, just camaraderie and mutual support. They tackled every challenge as a united front.


    Disciples like these? He couldn’t ask for more.


    Bai Tian looked at each of them in turn, a thousand words on the tip of his tongue, but in the end, he just nodded. He’d noticed something: ever since taking Han on as a disciple, Tai Bai had come alive. The others had been swept up in experiences they’d never have encountered otherwise, snagging opportunities and undergoing transformations. Their bonds had deepened noticeably.


    This youngest disciple’s arrival had breathed new life into Tai Bai, pushing it to new heights.


    “Master,” Han said, “I overheard some folks from the Heavenly Dragon Sect saying Tai Bai’s just a no-name martial hall, not even ranked.”


    “What’s this ‘rank’ thing about?”


    If Hai Zhen had only called Tai Bai insignificant, it could’ve been brushed off as trash talk. But mentioning ranks suggested there was more to it—disdain, sure, but not just empty scorn.


    The others turned to Bai Tian, equally puzzled.


    “By Great Qi law, Tai Bai Martial Hall is indeed unranked, a no-tier hall,” Bai Tian explained. “Same goes for every other martial hall in Black Cloud Town. In Great Qi, anyone wanting to open a martial hall has to register with the local authorities. They check your strength, whether you’ve got a martial system worth teaching, and if you own a plot of land for the hall. In smaller places, the bar’s not high, but the paperwork’s a headache. Only if everything’s in order do they greenlight you to open shop and teach.”


    Han nodded. It made sense. Martial halls here were like schools from his old life—most students trained for a few years, then “graduated.” They could move on to bigger sects, join a family’s payroll, or, if they were lucky, stay on as instructors. Starting a school wasn’t a cakewalk; it demanded approvals, credentials, and connections. Unless your strength was so overwhelming that no one dared block you.


    “But most halls start out unranked,” Bai Tian continued. “In Great Qi, martial halls are split into four tiers: unranked, plus Heaven, Earth, and Man.”


    “What?” Bai Ruoyue balked. “With your old strength, Father, Tai Bai’s still unranked? What does it take to hit Man-tier?”


    “It’s not that my strength was lacking,” Bai Tian said, shaking his head. “The ranking happens once every ten years in the state capital. Ten years ago, you were only eight, Ruoyue. Tai Bai barely had any disciples back then—nothing to evaluate.”


    “So we’ve never had a shot at ranking. But this year, it’s time again.”


    Silence fell. Ten years ago, there’d been no chance. They couldn’t exactly send an eight-year-old Bai Ruoyue to fight for Tai Bai’s honor.


    “What’s the perk of ranking?” Shen Yu asked, wide-eyed. “Great Qi’s got actual laws for this? That’s intense.”


    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    “There are perks,” Bai Tian confirmed. “Even unranked halls get some love from Great Qi law. The empire encourages martial artists to open halls, teach the common folk, and bolster the nation’s strength.”


    If Great Qi were the only dynasty around, it might’ve kept its people weak to cling to power. But with three kingdoms vying for dominance, foreign tribes on the prowl, and demons running rampant, this was a time to flex some muscle. Whether Great Qi dreamed of conquest or not, it sure didn’t want to be conquered. And cultivators? They were the make-or-break factor in the empire’s survival.


    Given the stakes, Great Qi was all for martial halls popping up. At the very least, they were training Qi citizens. Halls were a safer bet than sects or noble families, too—those groups might put clan or sect over country, no telling where their loyalties lay.


    “Any hall that earns a rank gets rewards from Great Qi—yearly ones,” Bai Tian said. “Money, weapons, techniques, resources—you name it. It’s all to help halls train better disciples. Ranked halls carry serious clout, too; even local officials have to show respect. Even the lowest Man-tier halls get hefty prizes, so every hall dreams of making it big in the decennial ranking.”


    Shen Long and the others gaped. “Great Qi’s that generous?”


    Han, meanwhile, mulled it over. He got it—government subsidies for schools. Shady diploma mills, regular colleges, elite universities—support scaled with status. A no-name principal versus one from a top-tier school? Not even in the same league.


    “Great Qi’s always been big-hearted on this,” Bai Tian affirmed.


    “But couldn’t sects or families just throw together a hall right before the ranking to scam some rewards?” Han asked. Gaming the system for handouts was an old trick.


    Bai Tian shook his head. “Great Qi’s thought of that. There are strict rules—requirements to even enter the ranking, plus teaching obligations afterward.”


    Bai Ruoyue perked up. “So if Tai Bai joins this year’s ranking, what tier could we hit? Father, you’re True Blood now—could we snag Heaven-tier?”


    “No chance,” Bai Tian said flatly. “Heaven-tier demands a hall master or teacher at the Earth-Piercing Realm. Those halls don’t even bother with the ten-year ranking. If an Earth-Piercing cultivator opens a hall—or an existing one produces someone who breaks through—the imperial court showers them with rewards right away and slaps on the Heaven-tier label. There aren’t many of those in all of Qi.”


    “Earth-Piercing Realm—that’s the step after True Blood?” Han asked.


    “Yep. The real pinnacle of martial arts, on par with the Yellow Spring Realm in sorcery. Reach that, and the world’s yours to roam—no one wouldn’t bow to you,” Bai Tian said, a hint of longing in his voice. “Join the imperial court, and you’re an honored elder overnight. Sign up with a top sect, and you’re untouchable. For a powerhouse like that to open a hall and take on students? It’s a boon for Great Qi and the locals.”


    If he’d had the talent to hit that realm back in the day, a lot of obstacles would’ve vanished. Bai Ruoyue might’ve even met her mother by now. Or… he might’ve ended up a kept man somewhere.


    “The bar’s that high?” Bai Ruoyue muttered. “If Heaven’s out, what about Earth-tier?”


    Bai Tian shot his daughter an exasperated look. “Forget Earth-tier—we’d be lucky to scrape Man-tier.”


    “What? Your True Blood Realm’s that embarrassing?” she pressed.


    “It’s not just about my strength,” Bai Tian said, resigned. “Man and Earth tiers judge the hall master, the teaching staff, and the disciples. My power clears the bar for both, but Tai Bai’s too lean.”


    Lean was an understatement. Beyond him, there wasn’t a single other instructor. To regular students, Bai Ruoyue and the others might count as teachers, but the ranking didn’t recognize them as such. Bai Tian’s strength wasn’t the issue—he’d never be the weak link—but compared to long-established halls, Tai Bai was a bare-bones operation.


    Only an Earth-Piercing cultivator could make Great Qi overlook everything else and crown a hall Heaven-tier. True Blood? Not quite there, though it still came with some perks.


    “Because I’m True Blood, even if we don’t meet the full criteria, Great Qi will toss us some rewards every five years—less than what ranked halls get,” Bai Tian added. It was a nod of respect to True Blood cultivators—not as lavish as Earth-Piercing treatment, but a sincere gesture of encouragement. Stronger folks always got privileges; no one griped about that.


    The gap to ranked halls was real, though. Man-tier halls got annual rewards—Bai Tian’s setup meant waiting five years for a smaller haul. He left out one detail: for a True Blood cultivator’s hall to not even hit Man-tier was a bit of a humiliation. Most Earth-tier halls topped out at True Blood masters, and they did just fine. Being the odd one out? That stung.


    “Really not even Man-tier?” Bai Ruoyue said, deflated.


    “It’s not impossible,” Bai Tian replied. “A martial hall’s core is teaching. Staff matters, but the disciples you produce matter more. Train someone undeniable—someone who can dominate the ranking—and even if the rest falls short, you could get a special exception.”


    Exceptional ranking came down to two paths: an overwhelming powerhouse or a genius who left everyone in awe.


    All eyes slid toward Han.


    He glanced around, flashing a humble smile. No need for cheers or hype.


    “Han’s got the chops to push Tai Bai into an exception,” Bai Tian said with a nod, though he shook his head a moment later. “But there’s still time to decide if we’ll head to the state capital for the ranking. Don’t let it distract you.”


    “Why wouldn’t we go?” Bai Ruoyue blurted, flustered. To her, this was a golden chance to boost Tai Bai—once every decade. Missing it would be a travesty.


    Bai Tian didn’t answer, which only riled her up more. What do you do when your dad’s being stubborn?


    Han stepped in to calm her. “Master’s got his reasons, Senior Sister. No need to stress. Even if we skip this one, ten years from now, we’ll shoot straight to Heaven-tier. Way more impressive.”


    A decade was plenty. With enough grit—and maybe a tiny nudge from his cheat code—Earth-Piercing wasn’t out of reach.


    Bai Ruoyue’s temper flared fast but faded faster. “Father, just how badass is True Blood?”


    She pivoted, practically bouncing with excitement. This was her first brush with that level of power, and she was hooked.


    “Hard to sum up,” Bai Tian said, glancing at her. “The big changes everyone knows are two: true blood and true vigor. You’ve heard about condensing true blood—it’s not just a one-and-done deal. It keeps evolving, with different paths to refine it. I’m still figuring it out myself. Then there’s true essence morphing into martial vigor—crazy strong, totally over-the-top. One burst of vigor, and a Marrow Cleansing cultivator’s toast.”


    That jogged their memory of Bai Tian’s earlier sword strike. The blade got blocked, but the vigor clinging to it smashed Fang Zhenxing, a Manifest Saint, into the dirt. The gulf between Manifest Saint-Marrow Cleansing and True Blood-Yin Spirit was crystal clear. No wonder True Bloods could sit as elders in major martial sects.


    Bai Tian even released a wisp of true vigor for them to check out. It was dense—terrifyingly so. To Han and the others, it didn’t feel like energy; it was more like forged metal, a divine weapon. The power packed inside could wipe Tai Bai off the map without breaking a sweat.


    That a human body could refine energy to this level—and withstand it—was mind-boggling to any normal person. And vigor? Just one piece of the True Blood puzzle. These guys were practically a different species now.