**THUD.**

  A resounding explosion left the crowd dumbstruck. Lorcan had materialized before Li Hao with the speed of a phantom—**Chasing Wind Steps** in full effect. Li Hao's claws hung suspended in the air as Lorcan's kick landed squarely between his legs, the brute force launching Li Hao skyward.

  A sickening *crack* echoed, and a round object tumbled down Li Hao's trouser leg, arcing into the crowd. Wang Mang, lost in fantasies of Li Hao's impending cruelty to Lorcan, was caught off guard as a grape-sized object hurtled toward his open mouth. By the time he registered the projectile, it had slipped down his throat, carrying with it a bizarre, foul stench.

  **"Ah!"**

  Wang Mang gagged, desperately probing his throat with a finger until he vomited up the round object. Zhou Yaoyang and others, witnessing the scene, recoiled in disgust.

  **"My... testicles!"**

  On the stage, Li Hao clutched his groin, his face a mask of agony. Had it not been for the spiritual energy shielding his body, he would have succumbed to the pain instantly.

  A hush fell over the arena. The crowd oscillated between Li Hao on the stage and the gruesome spectacle in the distance, their expressions a mix of shock and revulsion.

  "At least now you'll walk straight," Lorcan remarked dryly.

  Li Hao, his fury bordering on apoplexy, realized his last remaining treasure had been not only severed but also swallowed by Wang Mang. The finality of it—this second testicle, like the first, lost forever—cemented his fate as a man rendered barren.

  "Go to hell, you son of a bitch—**Shattering Stone Fist!**" Li Hao roared, channeling every ounce of his qi to quell the searing pain. His punch, a maelstrom of Third Stage Qi Condensation power, howled toward Lorcan.

  Lorcan met the charge head-on, his eyes cold as winter. With a bellow that shook the heavens, he unleashed his own punch.

  "**Ox Might Technique!**"

  The collision reverberated like thunder, bones snapping like kindling. Li Hao's scream pierced the air as blood erupted from his shattered arm. The crowd watched in horror as Li Hao's limb was reduced to ruin.

  Lorcan stood unmoved, his posture a testament to the punch he'd delivered. His eyes, cold and unfeeling, bore the weight of the crowd's terror. This was no ordinary cultivator—this was a harbinger of death.

  The arena fell silent. Even Zhou Yaoyang, a cultivator of the Seventh Qi Stage, felt a chill creep up his spine. Whispers erupted:

  "How is this possible? He wields a **martial technique**?"

  "He was supposed to be a **cultivation-waste**! What's happening?"

  "The look in his eyes—it's terrifying."

  Panic rippled through the onlookers. Those who had once mocked Lorcan now trembled, seeing in Li Hao's fate a mirror to their own potential end.

  Li Hao, his arm pulverized and innards bruised, lay in a pool of blood. Lorcan's punch had not only shattered bone but also ravaged his internal organs. Even Lorcan was shaken by the Nine-Stellar Domination Technique's ferocity—ordinary techniques, amplified by the technique's power, became forces of destruction.

  Lorcan advanced slowly toward Li Hao, each step a death knell on the silent stage. Li Hao's earlier rage had dissolved into terror, his voice trembling as he pleaded, "Don't... come closer."

  Li Hao scrambled backward, but fear had sapped him of strength. Lorcan, an inescapable nightmare, drew nearer.

  "Spare me... It was Zhou Yaoyang who made me do it," Li Hao wailed, his voice cracking.

  Zhou Yaoyang's face darkened. "Li Hao, what are you spewing?"

  "I'm not lying! You orchestrated this, promising rewards! This is all your doing," Li Hao screamed, his finger jabbing at Zhou.

  "Li Hao, you dare—" Zhou Yaoyang's face contorted with rage.

  "Zhou Yaoyang, you son of a bitch! Lorcan, know this—he's nothing but a lackey. In fact..." Li Hao's words were cut short as a sudden chill prickled Lorcan's spine. Without a second thought, Lorcan leaped backward.

  No sooner had he retreated than the mysterious figure in a straw hat darted forward, a blade glinting in hand. But when Lorcan turned, he saw Li Hao's eyes glazed over—lifeless.

  A murmur of shock swept the crowd. Someone had assassinated Li Hao.

  "Lorcan wins," the arena keeper declared after a moment of chaos.

  Though Li Hao had not fallen by Lorcan's hand, victory was his. The judgment rang true—Lorcan had bested Li Hao, and killing him would have been effortless.

  As Lorcan collected his prize—three million gold coins—the crowd's despair was palpable. Yet a handful rejoiced, their bets on Lorcan paying off handsomely. Yu Fatty and the others howled in triumph.

  Backstage, Lorcan was greeted like a hero. Shi Feng crushed him in a hug. "When did you become this unstoppable? Warn a brother next time—I was on the edge of my seat!"

  "From now on, Dragon Brother's got our backs," Yu Fatty declared, his eyes alight.

  Lorcan laughed. "Deal. Let's collect our winnings."

  Cheers erupted as Lorcan withdrew the crystal card holding three million gold. The weight of the card in his hand ignited a fire in his heart. Li Hao's dying words had unveiled a conspiracy—a conspiracy that used Lorcan as a pawn in a game targeting his father.

  "The plot thickens," Lorcan muttered, but the crystal card in his palm steeled his resolve. This was power—raw, uncut, and exhilarating.

  After celebrating at a teahouse, Lorcan repaid his friends their initial stakes, keeping the winnings. He promised them a future of cultivation support, a vow that sent Yu Fatty and the others into jubilation. Lorcan's words carried the weight of life itself, and they treated the secret with the gravity it deserved.

  Post-celebration, Lorcan sought Shi Feng, a genius among heirs, already at the Eighth Qi Condensation stage. After confirming Shi Feng's loyalty, Lorcan parted ways and made for the Alchemists' Guild—the southernmost jewel of the capital, a sanctuary so sacred even royalty bowed to its authority.

  The guild, a monolith of dozens of zhang in height, exuded an aura of reverence. Upon entering, two hostesses greeted Lorcan. Their surprise at his youth and lack of cultivator's aura was evident, yet they escorted him to the alchemy hall.

  Inside, Lorcan recognized the old rascal who had swindled his mother—posing as a physician to peddle fear and false diagnoses. "I'm here for the alchemist certification," Lorcan stated, suppressing his rage.

  The old man's eyes narrowed. "A child like you? Save your breath."

  Lorcan's patience snapped. "If your ears are clogged with green fuzz, let me make it clear—I'm here to become a certified alchemist."

  His roar reverberated through the guild, drawing the attention of a gaunt elder. Lorcan's lips curled into a mischievous grin as the elder approached, clearly unamused.