Chapter 23: The Last Spot Is Mine!

The man was portly, his large belly protruding, and his face was covered in folds of flesh, making one worry whether the chair beneath him could withstand his weight. Though his appearance was less than pleasant, he wore a cheerful smile, and a small, wiry goatee at his chin lent him an air of amiability. Sensing Yang Yan’s gaze, the elder turned his head slightly and cast a warm, smiling nod in Yang Yan’s direction.

“So this is the perceptive ability of a peak Spirit-Communing cultivator—able to sense my gaze among thousands present. Truly terrifying…”

Yang Yan was still reeling from shock when Elder Li nodded to him without pretense, his manner approachable and unassuming. Yang Yan felt an immediate surge of goodwill and responded with a respectful salute.

“With all clans assembled, I hereby declare the Martial Gathering of the Clans officially open!”

At the forefront of the seats, a middle-aged man surveyed the crowd and announced loudly. This was Fang Kun, himself a cultivator of the Spirit-Communing realm, respected in Jinhuan City and unaffiliated with any major clan, making him the ideal host for this grand event.

“Next, I ask the contestants from each clan to come forward and draw lots to determine their opponents and the order of their matches!”

From the Xu and Sun clans, three young cultivators stepped forth, making their way to the central jade platform. Only the Zhang clan sent two youths to the stage.

“Has the Zhang clan no promising youths left? Why only two?”

“You might be right. The younger generation of the Zhangs has been declining these past two years…”

“How times change! Once, Zhang Quan and Zhang Sheng swept first and second place at this very gathering…”

Listening to the murmured discussions around them, the members of the Zhang clan felt their faces flush with embarrassment. They lowered their heads, pretending not to hear, trying to hide their discomfort.

“Father, let me take the final spot!”

The voice was youthful, not particularly loud, yet it thundered in the ears of the Zhang clan. When they realized it was Yang Yan speaking, their eyes widened in disbelief.

“Yan’er, you…”

It was a long moment before Zhang Tai recovered, his gaze mixed with surprise, delight, and anticipation.

The surrounding Zhang clan members seemed to awaken from a dream, their eyes sizing up Yang Yan as they whispered among themselves.

“Father, trust me!”

Yang Yan ignored the stares around him, focusing unwaveringly on Zhang Tai, his eyes resolute and earnest.

Zhang Tai gazed at Yang Yan, moved by the calm determination in his son’s eyes and the faint smile at his lips. Somewhere deep within, a thought arose: Perhaps he truly could create a miracle.

Father and son exchanged a silent look, no more words needed. Suddenly, Zhang Tai threw back his head and laughed, eyes glistening with tears, his gaze burning as he fixed it on Yang Yan.

“Well done, my son! You have courage. I believe in you!”

Zhang Tai’s words were spoken openly, drawing every eye in the hall. Disbelief filled the faces turned toward Yang Yan.

“My goodness, did I hear that right? The Zhang clan chief is sending a boy who hasn’t reached the Spirit-Sensing realm to compete? Isn’t that inviting humiliation?”

“That must be the third young master of the Zhangs. I heard he recently defeated Xu’s second son in the city!”

“That was because Xu’s second son didn’t use spiritual energy—otherwise, with his Body-Refining realm strength, he would have easily won!”

Zhang Tai’s declaration was like a bomb, igniting the entire hall. Nearby, Xu Tianlong of the Xu clan was equally surprised. Yang Yan stood and, expressionless, walked toward the jade platform amid the stares and whispers.

“Has Zhang Tai lost his mind? He’s really letting that boy compete—doesn’t he realize he’s handing his dignity to others?”

“Father, since he’s asking for trouble, I’ll seize the chance to teach him a lesson and avenge my humiliation in public!”

Beside him, Xu Shaoguang rubbed his hands together, his face twisted with anticipation, already envisioning Yang Yan’s defeat.

Xu Tianlong ignored his son, his eyes fixed on Yang Yan’s calm stride toward the platform, sensing something was amiss but unable to pinpoint it.

“Oh? Who is that youth?”

The commotion in the audience caught Elder Li’s attention. Pointing toward Yang Yan, he turned to Fang Kun.

“He’s the third young master of the Zhangs, Yang Yan. Due to his constitution, he cannot sense or absorb the spiritual energy of heaven and earth, so his cultivation remains at the Body-Refining stage. I don’t know what the Zhang clan chief is thinking, letting him compete…”

Despite Elder Li’s appearance, Fang Kun dared not underestimate him. The subtle aura of pressure emanating from the old man reminded Fang Kun that he was far more than his genial exterior suggested. He answered promptly, giving the full explanation.

“Oh? That’s quite curious…” Elder Li stroked his goatee, as if pondering something. “You say his name is Yang Yan? He’s of the Zhang clan?”

Fang Kun caught his meaning and hurried to clarify.

“Yang Yan wasn’t born to the Zhangs. He was an abandoned infant taken in by Zhang Tai, who treats this adopted ‘third son’ as his own—indeed, more affectionately than his two biological sons. Even after learning Yang Yan could not cultivate, he never showed him any coldness.”

“Is that so? Fascinating…”

As the contestants from each clan took their places, the drawing of lots began. Many eyes, including those of Zhang Fei and Zhang Lin—the other two Zhang clan competitors—were fixed on Yang Yan. Both were from the lineage of Elder Zhang Yanshan, their kinship with Zhang Tai distant. Though they had grown up in the Zhang clan alongside Yang Yan, there was little real connection between them.

Yang Yan ignored their scrutiny, walking to the table and drawing a bamboo slip from the wooden box.

“Number three…”

There were two slips with each number. Each contestant would fight in the match corresponding to their number; those with matching numbers would face off, with the winner advancing and the loser eliminated.

As everyone drew their lots, eyes instinctively glanced at Yang Yan’s slip.

“It’s me—I’m number three too!”

On the stage, a young man couldn’t contain his excitement, waving his matching bamboo slip high, as if victory were already assured.