The Imperial Academy, a beacon of learning and martial prowess, opened its doors to the scions of the empire once a month for a single day. Mornings were devoted to the refinement of poetry and etiquette, while afternoons granted access to the academy's vast repository of martial techniques, all at no cost to the attendees.

  In times past, Lorcan's presence at the academy had been met with ridicule and scorn, rendering his attendance a mere formality. Yet now, fortified by the Wind Mansion Pill, he had taken the first steps toward condensing the Wind Mansion Star—a nascent dantian that, though embryonic, promised a future of boundless potential.

  To Lorcan, the dantian was the ocean to the river of meridians—a boundless sea capable of housing the torrents of spiritual energy. With the Wind Mansion Star's formation, his body's capacity to store and channel energy had been revolutionized. No longer would his power wane like a fleeting stream; instead, it would swell into an oceanic expanse.

  The Nine-Stellar Domination Technique, a cultivation method of unparalleled genius, granted Lorcan the prospect of nine dantians. When all nine stars were fully awakened, his spiritual reservoirs would be multiplied ninefold—a powerhouse of energy that would elevate his strength to heights unimaginable.

  Though Lorcan now possessed the complete manual for the Nine-Stellar Domination Technique, his understanding of this transcendent art remained shallow. It demanded relentless exploration and experimentation. Once the Wind Mansion Star was fully condensed, he would be able to amass spiritual energy in quantities sufficient to attempt the Blood Condensation Realm—a true martial adept's threshold.

  The Qi Gathering Realm was but the first step on the path of martial cultivation. Only by entering the Blood Condensation Realm, where one's blood and qi surged with formidable power, could one be deemed a genuine warrior.

  Lorcan's body, already bolstered by the Wind Mansion Star's embryonic form, had been significantly enhanced. A simple punch from him now carried gale-force winds capable of shattering a vase five feet away. This newfound strength filled him with exhilaration.

  His purpose at the Imperial Academy today was clear: to explore its martial archives. With the Wind Mansion Star nearing completion and his spiritual energy growing more abundant, he was now poised to master martial combat techniques.

  These techniques, distilled from the insights of past masters, leveraged spiritual energy and meridian pathways to amplify a warrior's power manifold. A well-practiced technique could transform an ordinary warrior into a force multiplier, unleashing strength that dwarfed their usual capabilities.

  Thus, the acquisition of such techniques was of paramount importance to every martial cultivator. Eager to begin his cultivation, Lorcan made his way to the academy, located on the northern outskirts of the capital—a sprawling complex spanning dozens of miles, second in grandeur only to the imperial palace.

  Upon verification of his waist plaque, Lorcan entered the academy and headed straight for the Literary Hall, where morning sessions were held. Here, scholars discoursed on poetry, etiquette, and classical literature, subjects that Lorcan had once found tedious but now regarded with a newfound appreciation.

  Arriving early, Lorcan found the vast hall sparsely populated with a few dozen young nobles. Several of them greeted him warmly.

  "Ha, Brother Long, you've grace us with your presence," came the cheerful voices of a few young men who, like Lorcan, were unable to cultivate—a bond forged in shared circumstance.

  In the martial-obsessed Phoenix Ming Empire, their inability to cultivate made them targets of ridicule, yet they found solace in each other's company.

  "Ha, gentlemen, you're here early as well," Lorcan replied with a grin, his recent successes having lifted his spirits from their former despondency.

  "Word has it that you've recently bested Li Hao in a duel. Most impressive! Have you finally broken through in your cultivation?" one of the slender youths asked enviously.

  Though they had once been in the same plight as Lorcan, the news of his victory over Li Hao, a cultivator of the Third Stage of Qi Gathering, filled them with a mix of shock and admiration.

  "Heh, mere luck. But I have learned a divine technique recently," Lorcan said mysteriously, steering the conversation away from his cultivation.

  "A divine technique? Pray, what is it?" the group's curiosity was piqued.

  "Recently, I've been studying a tome on physiognomy and have developed quite the knack for it. In fact, it's what led me to challenge Li Hao," Lorcan elaborated with a hint of pride.

  "Physiognomy? Isn't that the street trickery of fortune-tellers?"

  "On the contrary, my studies have revealed its profound insights. When I observed Li Hao's darkened forehead and霉运-laden features, I knew he was ripe for misfortune. Thus, I accepted his challenge. The rest, as they say, is history," Lorcan concluded with a knowing smile.

  The group was initially skeptical, but as they recalled Li Hao's inexplicable defeat, their doubt began to waver. One of them spoke up, "Come to think of it, Li Hao did seem hexed that day, barely putting up a fight before you laid him low."

  Having heard the commotion, others chimed in, their skepticism giving way to grudging belief. Seizing the moment, one of the youths, clearly distressed, sought Lorcan's counsel.

  "Brother Long, since you're adept at reading faces, could you tell me why my fiancée avoids me so? What have I done to deserve such treatment?" he asked, his voice tinged with frustration.

  "Of course. Let's find a seat; this isn't the place for such a discussion," Lorcan suggested, leading the group to a secluded table adorned with pastries.

  Pointing to a pastry, Lorcan said, "Help yourself."

  "Thank you," the man replied, taking a bite. The others watched, puzzled.

  "How does it taste?" Lorcan inquired.

  "Delicious," came the response.

  "Have another," Lorcan urged.

  Obediently, the man took another pastry, but after a single bite, his expression shifted to one of sudden enlightenment. "Brother Long, your wisdom is profound. I see now: my greed has been my downfall. You're telling me that contentment is key, yes?"

  The group regarded Lorcan with newfound respect, amazed that a simple pastry could serve as a vehicle for wisdom.

  However, Lorcan shook his head and sighed, "You're mistaken. What I'm trying to say is: you're so fat that you're barely fitting through doors. Your fiancée is already showing remarkable patience by not breaking off the engagement. Be grateful.

  With a physique like yours, any woman sharing your bed would lie awake in terror, fearing that a roll in the night might flatten her into a painting."

  The man's face flushed crimson as he glanced at his imposing frame—over five feet tall and nearly four and a half feet wide—and realized that perhaps he had indeed let himself go.

  "Yu Fatty, spare Dragon Brother's precious time and go shed some weight. Dragon Brother, how about you take a look at my face?" another slender youth interjected with a grin.

  "Ah, you," Lorcan feigned a serious inspection before declaring, "Your face foretells poverty until thirty, but fear not—for after thirty..."

  The man's eyes lit up with hope. "Does that mean my fortunes turn around at thirty?"

  "No. After thirty, you simply grow accustomed to it," Lorcan deadpanned.

  The man was left speechless as the group burst into laughter. Their mirth was cut short, however, by a pair of venomous eyes fixed upon them.

  Lorcan, sensing the gaze, turned to find Li Hao staring at him with eyes like daggers.

  "Prince Li, I see your face has healed. Most auspicious. But tell me, how fares the injury... down there?" Lorcan inquired with feigned concern.

  Li Hao's face contorted. The memory of being hospitalized after Lorcan's knee had flattened his face was humiliating enough. What was worse, upon examination, it was discovered that one of his testicles was missing—a fact that had Li Hao seeing red.

  The missing testicle, it was said, had been carried off by a stray dog. When Li Hao awoke and heard the news, he nearly fainted from rage. No amount of the Alchemists' Guild's prowess could restore what was lost.

  Though Li Hao could walk straight enough, the absence of symmetry left him deeply unsettled. Now, Lorcan's mention of it twisted the knife.

  "Goddamn it, Lorcan, you son of a bitch! I challenge you to a duel to the death! Do you accept?" Li Hao seethed, his eyes blazing.

  Lorcan's previously amicable expression hardened. The insult was not just to him but to his mother—a line that should never be crossed.

  "Still intent on death, are you? Very well. But if you're going to die, die with purpose. I insist on higher stakes," Lorcan replied coolly.

  "Fine. Name your stakes. I, Li Hao, will meet them," he declared, though inwardly he sneered. Stakes or no, Li Hao was determined not to repeat his past mistake.

  This time, it was a duel to the death. Unlike their previous encounter, where Li Hao could have ceased the fight by conceding, this time there would be no retreat. Once on the stage, their lives would be forfeit—the victor could decide the loser's fate.

  "Agreed. Tomorrow, at noon, we meet on the stage of death," Li Hao said with a chilling smile, regarding Lorcan as though he were already a corpse.

  Lorcan's mind raced. The time had come to make an example of someone. As Li Hao turned to leave, Lorcan added, "Do mind your balance. Wouldn't want you tripping now, would we?"

  Li Hao's body stiffened mid-step. He heard the barb in Lorcan's words and felt a fresh wave of pain in his nether regions. Taking a deep breath, he continued walking, though his gait betrayed his discomfort.

  The group watched as Li Hao waddled away, and one of Lorcan's companions voiced his concern, "Brother Long, are you certain? This is a duel to the death."

  "Fear not. Today, I observed a most ominous sign in his face—a deathly pallor and the mark of the Grim Reaper. He shall not see the day after tomorrow. Speaking of which, I have a favor to ask," Lorcan said, leaning in to whisper his request.

  The others exchanged glances. Finally, Yu Fatty, gritting his teeth, declared, "Brother Long, take all my savings," and handed over a crystal card containing eighty thousand gold coins.

  Lorcan was taken aback by the generosity. Though they were all sons of nobility, their branches were minor and their resources limited. For Yu Fatty, this was a small fortune.

  "Here, I've another sixty thousand," another chimed in.

  "I can only spare thirty thousand, but take it," added a third.

  Lorcan had expected to borrow a pittance, yet they offered their entire savings. "Gentlemen, if I perish, your gold will be lost," he cautioned.

  "Brother Long, do you doubt our loyalty? We may not have the courage to fight, but we can at least stand by you in spirit," they replied.

  Touched by their solidarity, Lorcan accepted the contributions, now wielding over two hundred thousand gold coins—a sum that could work wonders.

  As the group continued their discussion, the sound of footsteps echoed through the hall. A procession entered the Literary Hall, and the once-chattering room fell into an uneasy silence.