Volume Two: Blood Spilled on the Bodhi Tree Chapter Fifteen: The Disciple

"You're Chen Buqun!"

The heads of the great sects instantly recognized this brash youth, exclaiming in unison. In that very moment, the leaders all drew their swords, forming up defensively, glancing warily around in search of Xiao Yan.

"Hey, relax, it's just me today. I happened to run into all of you… Though I must say, you’re really something—still so fond of twisting the truth and turning things upside down," Chen Buqun shook his head with a wry smile.

"Chen Buqun! Mind your tongue! You’re bold, I’ll give you that—daring to be so arrogant on your own. Since you’re here today, you won’t be leaving alive!" Huang He was a natural performer, and would never let himself be mocked or falsely accused of humiliation.

"Haha, if you’ve got the guts, come at me!" Chen Buqun could not be bothered with more words. Rolling up his sleeves, he readied himself for a fight.

His master had once told him something he wholeheartedly believed: a man should do what a man must.

In the past, Chen Buqun idolized his father, Chen Bufan. He loved imitating his father's speech, mannerisms, and expressions, striving to be an upright man—a hero for country and people.

But after spending time with his master Xiao Yan, he realized he’d started unconsciously imitating Xiao Yan instead. It was as if, after Xiao Yan helped him open his energy channels, defeat Da Vinci, and outwit the Ten Great Families single-handedly, Xiao Yan had planted a seed in his mind.

Now, Xiao Yan had subtly become his idol, and Chen Buqun's every action was slowly aligning with Xiao Yan’s style.

So, by now, Chen Buqun seemed a different person, no longer the radiant youth he once was, but rather, bearing that irreverent, confrontational manner that so defined Xiao Yan.

"Heh… Overestimating yourself, Chen Buqun. You think too highly of your own abilities," Huang He sneered, giving Chen Buqun a cold glance. "Even if your father Chen Bufan himself were here, I would not fear him! Let alone you, boy!"

With that, Huang He’s internal energy surged forth—twenty-eight levels strong—a blatant show of disdain and intimidation.

In terms of martial skill, Huang He was in no way inferior to his brother Huang Long; some even said he was more ruthless.

"Haha, with Master Huang going all out, looks like we can just sit back and enjoy the show…" the other leaders crossed their arms, clearly looking down on Chen Buqun, not bothering to step in.

Yet, they all knew in their hearts: since Chen Buqun was here, Xiao Yan surely wasn't far. Best to conserve their strength, just in case.

The rest of the martial world watched on with interest. Of course, everyone had heard the name of the hero Chen Bufan. The fame of "Twin Swords and a Blade" was legendary—though recently, the Ten Great Families had slandered him, his reputation in ruins.

However, after the grain donation affair, Qin Shirong had worked behind the scenes, using the authorities' resources to spread tales of Chen Bufan’s heroism. Though his name had yet to fully recover, at least it was no longer universally reviled.

Now his son, Chen Buqun, had come forth, and people bore him no ill will; they were simply curious where he found the courage to challenge so many sect leaders on his own.

Each of these leaders was a top-tier master, standing at the very summit of the martial world.

And Chen Buqun was but twenty, though it was rumored he led the Four Heroes of Gold Mountain, a prodigy of extraordinary talent.

Still, he was too young. Most onlookers were mediocre martial artists themselves, and found it hard to believe any youth could match these grandmasters.

After all, there were geniuses among them—like Zhao the Constable, half a member of the martial world at twenty, with an inner strength at fifteen levels, already a figure others could only admire.

So, no one present believed Chen Buqun could contend with Huang He. If he could withstand three moves, it would be impressive; the idea of winning didn’t even cross their minds.

Zhao the Constable frowned. He hesitated—this was a golden opportunity to ingratiate himself with the Ten Great Sects. If he leapt into the fray now and took care of Chen Buqun on Huang He’s behalf, he’d surely earn the great families’ favor.

He’d never feared any peer. If it came to a fight, he was convinced he’d win—maybe even leave Chen Buqun unable to stand.

Such was a genius’s confidence.

But Zhao hesitated because, as an official constable in uniform, he represented the authorities. If he acted now, it might draw criticism from the other martial artists.

While Zhao was torn, Huang He stepped forward.

Too late, Zhao regretted his hesitation—he’d missed his chance. He should have acted without overthinking, helped Master Huang, and dealt with the arrogant Chen Buqun.

As Huang He took his first step, Chen Buqun's internal energy began to flow.

All eyes turned to Chen Buqun. Their expressions varied—some sneered, some smiled coldly, some looked on with indifference.

After all, it was common for a brash youth to be taught a lesson by the older generation.

The August wind was gentle, brushing against their faces—yet, as it passed, it seemed to blow away their expressions, too.

For as soon as Chen Buqun unveiled the full extent of his inner strength, no matter what they’d felt before, their faces were now frozen in astonishment.

Inner strength above twenty levels carried an undeniable aura, and all present felt it now.

This meant the youth before them had already reached twenty levels of inner strength.

For a twenty-year-old, twelve levels was average; fifteen, like Zhao the Constable, marked a genius.

But twenty levels at twenty years old was something close to monstrous.

Zhao the Constable rubbed his eyes again and again, certain he’d rather believe he’d gone blind young, than accept a peer could outshine him by so much.

“No wonder he’s Chen Bufan’s son… This is beyond belief…” someone finally gasped in shock.

Huang He’s brow furrowed. He had only become leader of the Green Mountain Sect after his brother Huang Long’s death, and his talent had once been called monstrous as well—yet, at twenty, he’d only barely reached eighteen levels.

“Hmph. This boy must die. If someone with such talent is allowed to grow, he’ll be a terrifying enemy,” Huang He thought darkly.

The other sect leaders exchanged glances, seeing the same unease in each other’s eyes.

Chen Buqun must die today.

That was the thought consuming them now.

But to their utter astonishment, Chen Buqun's inner energy did not stop at twenty.

“Look! His inner energy is still rising!” someone cried out, pointing at Chen Buqun.

Twenty-one levels!

Chen Buqun's face remained calm, a slight smile on his lips as his inner strength climbed higher.

Twenty-two!

Twenty-three!

Twenty-four levels!

Finally, at twenty-four levels, his inner energy settled.

“My god… what am I seeing…” someone stared at Chen Buqun, as if witnessing a ghost.

Zhao the Constable suddenly felt his throat go dry, swallowing hard as he stared at the young man before him.

An icy dread filled his heart—he’d been on the verge of stepping forward to challenge a youth with twenty-four levels of inner strength…

But the gap was nine full levels.

Such a difference meant the other could kill him with a single slap.