**SMACK!**

  A thunderous slap echoed through the chamber, the force of Lorcan's strike sending the black-faced man flying. Teeth scattered across the floor like broken pearls.

  "Apologies, old chap," Lorcan drawled, feigning politeness. "My hand was simply itching."

  The slap reverberated through every corner of the Technique Pavilion. Onlookers, their curiosity piqued, dropped their manuals and turned toward the commotion.

  "Who dares raise a hand in the Technique Pavilion?" came a cold voice. A man clad in black materialized, his presence as oppressive as a mountain. His blood qi surged, suffocating the air. Lorcan's eyes narrowed—a **Blood Condensation Realm** powerhouse.

  The Technique Pavilion, a sanctuary of martial knowledge, forbade violence on pain of confinement. Everyone knew the rules.

  "What happened here?" the powerhouse demanded.

  "For that, you'll need to ask him," Lorcan replied, spreading his hands in mock innocence.

  The black-faced man seethed, but before he could speak, Zhou Yaoyang emerged from the shadows. "Sir, Wang Mang here suffered an... overwhelming itch on his face. He struck himself by accident. No violence was intended," Zhou lied smoothly.

  Wang Mang, the black-faced man, gaped in disbelief but fell silent under Li Hao's urgent gestures.

  "Are you the son of the Savage Marches Hou?" the powerhouse asked Zhou.

  "I am," Zhou confirmed.

  The powerhouse nodded. "An itch is best scratched, not slapped. I’ll not tolerate such theatrics again. Clean up this... mess."

  With that, he vanished, leaving stunned silence. No one expected Zhou Yaoyang to shield Lorcan.

  "Heh, hear that? Grown men shouldn’t soil themselves. Clean up your mess," Lorcan quipped, turning back to the shelves as if nothing had happened.

  Wang Mang, livid, could only seethe. His humiliation was complete—slapped senseless and left toothless, with nowhere to vent his fury.

  "Swallow your pride, Wang," Zhou Yaoyang advised. "If you accuse Lorcan, he’ll be confined for a month, but emerge unscathed. Let Li Hao settle the score tomorrow."

  Wang Mang reluctantly agreed, though his rage simmered. He knew of Li Hao’s duel with Lorcan but had always treated the latter as a plaything. Today’s lesson, however, was one he’d choke down—literally.

  As the group cleaned up the carnage, Zhou Yaoyang scrutinized Wang’s swollen face. "Your teeth aren’t that weak. How did Lorcan manage this?"

  The others echoed his confusion. It took extraordinary power to dislodge teeth so firmly rooted.

  "Who knows? It’s cursed," Wang grumbled, oblivious to Lorcan’s secret: his alchemical expertise allowed him to target the tooth sockets with precision, loosening them with a calculated strike.

  Lorcan’s slap was a masterstroke—half the teeth on one side of Wang’s jaw now useless. Teeth, unlike flesh, didn’t regenerate. Wang would chew with half a mouth for the rest of his days.

  With Wang’s lesson fresh in their minds, the crowd retreated. No one dared cross Lorcan again.

  ---

  Lorcan, relishing the newfound peace, turned his attention to the manuals. The Technique Pavilion’s collection was vast, but all texts were for reading only—no taking them home. He scanned the shelves, his eyes falling on a manual titled *Ox Might Technique*.

  In this world, martial techniques were ranked **Heaven**, **Earth**, and **Man**. The Pavilion housed only **Man-Lower Tier** techniques—basic but precious. Even nobles were watched by Blood Condensation experts, underscoring the Phoenix Ming Empire’s reverence for martial knowledge.

  "Simple and direct—just what I need," Lorcan murmured, memorizing the technique with ease. His formidable soul power granted near-photographic recall.

  Next, he spotted *Chasing Wind Steps*, a movement technique that enhanced speed and burst power by channeling spiritual energy into the feet. Practical and versatile, it suited Lorcan’s needs perfectly.

  As he committed the steps to memory, a chilling announcement echoed through the hall: "Time’s up. All heirs, return your manuals. Concealment will be met with severe punishment."

  The crowd scrambled to obey. The Empire allowed only half a day’s access to these treasures each month—a pittance that left many yearning for more.

  Lorcan, too, felt the time slip by. Had others known he’d mastered two techniques in just two hours, jaws would’ve dropped. But he kept his secret close, exited the academy, and greeted his companions before exchanging a few words with Shi Feng. Shi’s shock was palpable but contained.

  Back home, Lorcan found the damaged room cleared, a new chamber prepared. He paid his respects to his mother, whose worry eased after their chat, though he omitted the duel with Li Hao.

  Once alone, Lorcan locked his door and consumed a second Wind Mansion Pill. The pill’s power swelled his nascent Wind Mansion Star, expanding its capacity to store spiritual energy. Yet the star remained embryonic—a gaping maw demanding countless pills to fill.

  "This is a bottomless pit," Lorcan muttered, but resolve hardened his heart. The Nine-Stellar Domination Technique was his only path forward.

  After two hours of refining the pill, Lorcan ventured to the woodshed under cover of night. He practiced the *Ox Might Technique*, lifting a thousand-pound stone mill with ease. His strength, now fifteen times what it had been, thrilled him.

  Testing the limits, he channeled energy into his fist and struck the mill. The stone flew, crashing through a wall. Lorcan stared, stunned by his own power. The night’s excitement left him sleepless until dawn’s first light.

  "Want my parts, do you?" Lorcan chuckled to himself. "Grand ambitions, but you’ll choke on them."

  As servants buzzed about the previous night’s commotion, Lorcan faced the rising sun, a quiet determination in his heart. Today was a day for dreams to take flight.