"Good-for-nothing! He is not fit to be a scion of our Han Family!"
"That's right! Wasting so many medicinal herbs every month—feeding a dog would yield a better result than this!"
In Guiyuan City, located in the southwest border of the East Continent, the Han Family was holding a family meeting.
The elders were complaining one after another, some gnashing their teeth, others glaring with wide-open eyes as spittle flew everywhere.
Hearing the endless complaints from the elders, a middle-aged man with a bearded face and brown robes, sitting in the primary seat, wore a look of bitter resentment. A trace of anger flared in his eyes.
Listening to the unprintable harsh words echoing through the hall, he frowned deeply, seeming barely able to contain his emotions. After hesitating for a moment, he slammed his heavy fist onto the wooden table beside him.
With that heavy blow, the teacup on the table bounced, and tea splashed out, leaving a patch of stains.
"Silence! Fenger is no good-for-nothing!"
The man's roar instantly silenced the chattering and arguing crowd below the dais.
This person was none other than Han Tian, Patriarch of the Han Family!
Seeing Han Tian's angry face, the main hall, which had been buzzing with discussion just a moment ago, fell into an eerie, dead silence.
Just as everyone exchanged uncertain glances, an elder took a deep breath, as if making a heavy decision, stood up, and said:
"Patriarch, do not blame us for using harsh words; it's simply that the Young Patriarch's performance over the past year has truly disappointed the clan members."
Hearing this, Han Tian's face flushed red with embarrassment. He wanted to say something, but the words stuck in his throat.
At this moment, an elderly man beside Han Tian spoke up:
"Shut your stinking mouth! You only see Fenger's predicament over the past year, yet you forget how many resources and how much prestige Fenger brought to our Han Family a year ago!"
Dressed in white robes and wearing a long beard, this man was none other than Han Feng, the Great Elder of the Han Family.
Just as everyone bickered back and forth, a young man stood expressionless at the corner of the hall entrance. A self-deprecating smile curved his lips while his fists were clenched so tightly that his sharp nails dug into his palms. Threads of bright red blood slowly oozed out, gathering at his knuckles before dripping onto the floor.
The words of the people inside the hall felt like sharp needles piercing the young man's heart, the agonizing pain causing his body to tremble slightly.
After a moment, the young man let out a long breath, as if having made up his mind, and walked straight into the hall.
The people, who had been arguing fiercely, saw a youth in black robes enter and stopped to watch him, their eyes filled with undisguised mockery.
Seeing the youth arrive, the Great Elder put away his expression of embarrassment with lightning speed. Forcing a smile, he asked:
"Fenger, why are you here?"
This youth was the very good-for-nothing everyone was talking about: Han Feng, son of Han Family Patriarch Han Tian and Young Patriarch of the Han Family.
His decadent aura destroyed his once handsome and delicate features. Just as he opened his mouth to reply, the crowd broke into chatter once more.
"Han Feng, we are discussing clan matters right now! You have no right to stand here!"
"Han Feng, you truly are a disgrace to our Han Family! In my opinion, you should obediently hand over the position of Young Patriarch and go guard a shop in the streets!"
Sitting in the primary seat, Han Tian watched his son being cursed and reviled by the crowd, feeling utterly helpless. He clenched his fists so tightly that his shoulders trembled with rage.
Just as Han Tian prepared to speak out, Han Feng, who had been keeping his head down in silence, suddenly raised his voice and declared loudly:
"Since everyone feels that I, Han Feng, am no longer qualified to be the Young Patriarch, I will gladly hand the position over!"
As Han Feng pulled the jade pendant symbolizing the Han Family Young Patriarch from his waist, everyone's eyes locked onto it, filled with greed.
Han Feng lowered his head, placed the jade pendant on the floor, and turned to walk out of the hall.
Han Tian reached out a hand, but stopped with the words unspoken.
Over the past year, if not for Han Tian, the clan would long ago have refused to tolerate Han Feng.
The Great Elder walked over slowly, picked up the jade pendant, and handed it respectfully to Han Tian.
Looking at this jade pendant that had once witnessed Han Feng's genius, Han Tian experienced a tumult of emotions, yet he still wanted to fight for Han Feng.
"This matter will be discussed another day!"
Disregarding the reactions of the crowd, Han Tian strode off in pursuit of the direction Han Feng had left.
In the courtyard, the utterly dejected Han Feng felt a pain deeper than despair in his heart. Not only had his own glory vanished, but he had also brought shame upon his father.
Facing all of this while remaining completely powerless—that helpless sense of defeat made Han Feng clench his fists tighter, punching the ground blow after blow as he raised his head and roared toward the sky.
Those roars seemed to vent every ounce of his helplessness.
Seeing Han Feng's state, Han Tian felt a piercing pain in his chest. He stepped forward and pulled the fiercely pounding youth to his feet.
Looking at those bloodied knuckles torn by his own brutal force, Han Tian said nothing. His eyes grew moist as he tore a strip of cloth from his robe to bandage the wounds.
Looking at his loving father before him, Han Feng could no longer hold back. Tears burst from his eyes.
For all these years, when had Han Feng ever been this heartbroken? They say a real man does not easily shed tears, but what kind of humiliation could drive a proud man to weep?
"Fenger, what can a temporary victory or defeat prove? My son was a genius who reached Qi Condensation at age five, the Foundation Establishment Stage at eight, and Peak Foundation Establishment at fifteen! Though I do not yet know what caused you to lose your cultivation, in your father's eyes, you are still that genius who looked down upon Guiyuan City. Father believes in you—my son is no good-for-nothing!"
Han Tian's resolute words brought Han Feng immense comfort. No matter what state he was in, his father always wore a look of unwavering pride.
Yet misfortunes never come singly. Just as Han Feng's mood improved slightly under his father's comfort, an ill-timed voice rang out, turning both their faces ashen.
A servant ran in frantically, falling to his knees before Han Tian:
"Patriarch, Qiu Dong'er, the young lady of the Qiu Family, has arrived! She brought people from the Ziqiong Sword Sect, and she says..."
The servant pursed his lips, swallowing the words that had reached the tip of his tongue.
"What does she say?"
Han Tian asked anxiously and urgently.
"Patriarch, you had better go and see for yourself!"
Han Tian flicked his sleeve and walked straight toward the reception hall.
Qiu Dong'er was the daughter of the Qiu Family in Dongguan City, betrothed to Han Feng since childhood. Two years ago, because of her exceptional talent, Qiu Dong'er was accepted as a disciple by the Master of the Ziqiong Sword Sect. This sudden news had thrown the Han Family into a panic, fearing that the Qiu Family would eventually abandon the engagement.
The Ziqiong Sword Sect possessed overwhelming power in the East Continent, practically reigning supreme. In the northern region of the East Continent, the Ziqiong Sword Sect was like a pillar propping up the heavens.
Fortunately, nothing out of the ordinary had happened during the first year. But last year, Han Feng's strength began to decline until he gradually lost his cultivation entirely.
This affair had caused a great uproar in Guiyuan City, and naturally, it could not escape the intelligence network of the Qiu Family.
Now, the two of them walked vastly different paths: one was a disciple of the Ziqiong Sword Sect with an immeasurable future ahead; the other had inexplicably become a cripple, doomed to live out life as an ordinary person if he could never cultivate again.
With one soaring to the heavens and the other plunging into the mud, numerous rumors naturally began to spread.