[POV: Huang Yong]

  I could feel deep in my chest, where the Heart of a Dragon was said to reside.

  It was unsettled.

  The Dragon Heart Sect taught that cultivation did not begin with qi, nor with flesh, but with direction. A dragon’s power was not merely overwhelming force; it was will given form. To walk our path was to temper one’s heart until it burned with clarity. It was unyielding, proud, and straight. When the heart wavered, the dragon lost its way. When the dragon lost its way, even infinite strength would strike only empty air.

  Lately, my heart had been led astray.

  I knew it.

  The Meteor Child… I had been looking in the wrong direction all along.

  Those arrogant mortals, Meng Wu and Zhu Shufen, were a dead end. No matter how many times I replayed their actions in my mind, no matter how many layers of intention I peeled back, there was nothing there. They were obstacles, not answers.

  Meng Rong was the same.

  Clever, dangerous, well-protected, but ultimately a wall, not a gate.

  Dong Li of the Boulder Path Sect was convinced the Meteor Child was hidden inside the lord’s residence. Yao Yazhu had been distracted by that accursed fox, letting rage cloud his sword and pride cloud his judgment.

  And me?

  I felt as though I was being led.

  Pulled along by circumstances, reacting instead of advancing, exactly what the Dragon Heart warned against.

  My thoughts drifted, unbidden, to Huang Long.

  That stupid nephew of mine.

  Anger flared immediately, hot and sharp. The boy had gone far beyond his bounds, mistaking arrogance for courage, mistaking the Dragon Heart for license to do as he pleased. Just thinking of him made my blood boil.

  And yet…

  He had done one thing of use.

  I remembered his blustering tirade, the way he had puffed out his chest and declared he would bring Meng Rong to our side. He had spoken grandly of charm, of leverage, and of acquiring the talismans of her master if persuasion failed.

  A fool!

  A fool no matter how grand the surname.

  The name Huang had been wasted on him.

  I was only grateful that his situation with Meng Rong had not escalated beyond embarrassment. Still, he had managed to disgrace us anyway, tarnishing the sect’s reputation by picking a fight with that troublemaker, Yakuza Man.

  I exhaled slowly, drawing my qi inward, steadying my heart.

  Huang Long was the past.

  What mattered was what he had seen.

  Back then, Huang long had claimed, almost offhandedly, that Meng Rong had been lingering around the common library of the city.

  At the time, I had dismissed it as nonsense.

  Now, the thought returned with unexpected weight.

  A library…?

  Knowledge gathered, records kept, and mortals passing in and out freely. A place overlooked precisely because it was mundane.

  Perhaps… I should begin looking there.

  As my thoughts aligned, a junior disciple approached and bowed. “Elder Huang, someone wishes to speak with you.”

  My brow furrowed.

  Had Huang Long caused trouble again?

  I had already crippled his cultivation. Even so, being forced out of the lord’s residence might have broken what little spirit he had left. Losing one’s cultivation was a soul-wrenching fate. If it happened to me, I might have chosen death over living as a hollow shell.

  I had already told them to do as they pleased with him, but do not hurt him further. He was still of my clan.

  The disciple hesitated. “It is not Young Master Huang.”

  I looked up sharply. “Then who?”

  He swallowed and said, carefully, “Yakuza Man… wishes to speak with you.”

  “Turn him away,” I said calmly, lifting my teacup and taking an unhurried sip before pouring myself another.

  I could not afford to make my move too obvious.

  The pieces did not sit right. Meng Rong and Yakuza Man had been both absent at the same time, both appearing and disappearing as they pleased. It reeked of collusion. I had no proof, only instinct reminding me the sudden tightening of the city around us.

  At least I had been prudent.

  I had bribed an attendant of the manor long ago, a small insurance policy meant for moments like this. Unfortunately, being forced out of the lord’s residence rendered those bribes useless. Still, the information I had already gathered was enough to make me wary.

  The junior cultivator hesitated instead of leaving.

  “E-Elder Huang,” he said, lowering his voice, “Yakuza Man… issued a challenge against you.”

  The delicate glass in my hand cracked.

  A thin web of fractures spread across the cup as my grip tightened, tea spilling over my fingers and onto the table. I stared at it in silence for a breath, then set it down carefully, ignoring the heat.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  So that upstart had chosen this path.

  I had thought I taught him his place already. To hit him publicly, to drive him off… Was that not enough? Was this challenge born of wounded pride? Or revenge?

  A cold laugh escaped me.

  “Hah~!”

  He truly did not know his place if he dared challenge me so openly.

  Very well.

  “Bring me to him,” I said, rising to my feet. My aura stirred, restrained but heavy. “And spread the word.”

  The junior looked startled. “S-spread the word, Elder?”

  “The more witnesses, the better,” I continued coldly. “Let all see what happens when a nameless upstart bares his fangs at the Dragon Heart Sect.”

  My lips curved into a thin, merciless smile.

  “I shall repay the humiliation he has inflicted upon my sect… and my clan!”

  I would make sure of that.

  We arrived at an open stretch beside the park, a place that would normally bustle as a marketplace.

  Today, it had been completely cleared out.

  Stalls were gone, merchants nowhere to be seen. The ground was wide and flat, unobstructed and spacious enough that even a cultivator of my realm could fight freely without fear of collateral hindrance. Someone had planned this well.

  People were already gathering.

  Mortals dragged over crates and barrels, stacking them into makeshift seats. Martial artists stood with arms crossed. Cultivators from the three sects lingered at the edges, their gazes sharp and alert. A low murmur rippled through the crowd, thick with anticipation.

  “Good work, Chin,” I said offhandedly.

  The cultivator who had led me here, Zhang Chin, visibly stiffened. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he hurriedly replied, “T-This wasn’t me, Elder. I-I only informed my juniors and fellow seniors. There’s no way they could’ve gathered this many people so quickly…”

  So even this spectacle was not arranged by my sect.

  Interesting.

  Before I could dwell on it further, a familiar, infuriating voice rang out across the clearing.

  “Thank you for humoring me, Elder!”

  Yakuza Man stood at the center, cupping his fists in exaggerated courtesy.

  This strange man wore strange apparel with foreign names. White trousers. A pristine white suit worn casually over a red shirt far too flamboyant for a cultivator. And that ridiculous eyewear made of dark and reflective lenses that hid his eyes even under the open sky. He did not look like a martial artist, much less someone who had plagued three great sects for weeks.

  I straightened my posture and decided to act graciously.

  After all, I was from a righteous sect.

  “Did I hear correctly that you issued a challenge against me?” I let my gaze rake over him dismissively. “Are you certain you are not overestimating your abilities?”

  A few chuckles rippled through the crowd.

  “Aren’t you obligated to spar with Dong Li as part of his recruitment offer?” I continued coolly. “Or perhaps you have finally recognized the greatness of my Dragon Heart Sect, and have come voluntarily to seek a position within it.”

  I sneered and released my spiritual pressure, focusing it sharply on him.

  Unexpectedly, he shrugged it off.

  A strange pressure leaked from him in response, subtle yet oppressive, like a beast lifting its head just enough for you to realize it had been watching all along. For a fleeting moment, my heart skipped.

  Back then, I dismissed it as imagination.

  He was nothing more than a wild cultivator. Whatever this presence was, it could not be anything truly profound.

  Yakuza Man’s tone shifted, turning suddenly serious.

  “Well, you can think of it that way,” he said. “But honestly? I’m just here for your EXP points. Something for an easy win.”

  My blood boiled. What even were EXP points?

  “Easy?!” I snapped. “Did you just call me easy?!”

  My aura surged, no longer restrained.

  “My cultivation is more profound than Dong Li of the Boulder Path Sect and Yao Yazhu of the Phantasm Star Sect! I stand at the peak of Qi Gathering!”

  I unleashed Dragon Fear.

  This was no mere spiritual pressure. This was the heart of the Dragon Heart Sect, the will of a dragon made manifest. The air grew heavy. Mortals staggered back. Even cultivators felt their chests tighten as an instinctive dread clawed at their hearts.

  Before Yakuza Man could respond, a calm voice cut through the suffocating pressure.

  “Save it for the duel.”

  Meng Rong stepped forward.

  My eyes narrowed. ‘What was she doing here?’

  She stood between us with effortless authority, her presence commanding silence without needing force.

  “I will act as judge for this informal duel,” she declared. “Between Huang Yong of the Dragon Heart Sect and Yakuza Man of the Xincheng Constabulary.”

  Constabulary?

  My heart sank.

  Since when did this man belong to the local constabulary? That position meant citizenship. Protection. Legitimacy.

  A sly scheme indeed.

  Understanding dawned like a blade sliding between my ribs. The beatings my nephew suffered. The humiliation I endured at the banquet. All of it had been engineered. But, by who? There was only one suspect in my mind. It had to be Meng Wu. That despicable mortal.

  Yakuza Man casually brandished his weapon, a bat of all things, resting it against his shoulder.

  “Take out your weapon, old man.”

  I spat onto the ground.

  “I am a master of the way of the fists,” I said coldly. “You will regret ever crossing my path, Yakuza Man.”

  Righteous sects were, by nature, peaceful.

  They avoided conflict when it knocked on their doors, preferring harmony over confrontation. The Phantasm Star Sect upheld clarity and restraint. The Boulder Path Sect valued stability and endurance. Such principles had been carved into their foundations by wise founders long ago.

  But the Dragon Heart Sect was different.

  We were born of a dragon, not a metaphor, not a title, but a true ancient dragon who descended upon the mortal world to still chaos. He punished evil dragons who preyed upon humanity and tempered the world with flame and blood. From him, we inherited a creed that valued combat as virtue. Strength was responsibility. Power was judgment.

  Perhaps, in these long years of peace, that spirit had dulled.

  But dulled was not the same as broken.

  Dragons were still dragons.

  I closed my fist and entered my stance, my qi settling into my dantian like coiled fire. This domain revered martial arts; those watching would benefit from witnessing a true Dragon Heart technique. Let them see what real power looked like.

  Yakuza Man, by contrast, looked utterly nonchalant. He rested his blunt weapon against his shoulder, posture loose, almost lazy.

  Meng Rong’s voice rang out, clear and impartial. “These are the rules. The one who faints or admits defeat loses.”

  I wasn’t surprised, but I did scoff inwardly. Did she truly think this upstart could push me that far? Had this been a duel of blood, the result would’ve been the same regardless. A blunt weapon made no difference.

  She continued, “As witness and judge, I will oversee this duel fairly. Killing blows are forbidden. If I judge a fighter incapable of continuing, that fighter loses. Now, are you ready?”

  I nodded once. “Let’s get this over with. I have matters to attend to.”

  Yakuza Man nodded back. “Sure thing. Hey, old man… how many cups of tea did you have today?”

  I frowned.

  Meng Rong lowered her hand. “Begin.”

  A sense of unease crawled up my spine.

  I decided to finish this quickly.

  I activated Swerving Dragon Path, my footwork bending and weaving like a serpent through reeds. In an instant, I slipped into his blind spot and struck with Dragon Rend, my hand shaped like a claw, qi surging forward.

  My stomach twisted.

  To my disbelief, Yakuza Man guarded perfectly. The impact dispersed cleanly, my force neutralized as if striking flowing water.

  “I feel like you could’ve put more power into that,” he said lightly. “What’s wrong?”

  My teeth clenched.

  “Did you put poison in my tea?” I demanded.

  “Huh?” He tilted his head. “Why would I do something like that? Just relax your—uh—just calm down.”

  That confirmed it.

  I had no proof, but I knew it. Some insidious method, subtle enough to evade detection. My abdomen churned unpleasantly.

  Yakuza Man swung in a wide arc. I retreated, widening the distance between us.

  “You are na?ve!” I snapped. “Do you think such tricks can work on me?”

  I began circulating my qi, scanning my meridians for foreign substances. Strangely, I found nothing. No residue. No blockage. No toxin.

  Hmph.

  I increased the flow, confident. If there was poison, I would expel it. Dragon Heart techniques refined the body to perfection.

  “I will show you the difference in our level,” I declared, “you scheming snake!”

  I forced my qi outward, intending to purge impurities through my pores.

  What followed was… a shameful sound. It was loud and traitorous. A sudden and unmistakable warmth soon followed between my legs.

  The world went silent.

  A moment later, a smell reached my nose.

  My vision darkened.

  The Heart of a Dragon within me wailed in agony.

  I stiffened, every shred of dignity I had cultivated over decades cracking at once.

  “…Time out,” I said hoarsely. “I made a mistake.”

  I had never, in all my years of cultivation, wished so badly for the earth to swallow me whole.