C20 Fleeting Rumors

"Coming back for more?" Ye Feng gave a gentle push, and the disciple found himself uncontrollably stumbling backward until he collided with a nearby pillar.

It wasn't that he didn't want to control his fall; he simply couldn't, not until the harsh impact with the pillar stopped him. Ye Feng had only exerted half his strength this time. The disparity in their levels was clear—if he had used any more force, the disciple might have ended up embedded in the pillar itself.

Breathing heavily and with a hint of fear, the disciple finally managed to stand. His gaze towards Ye Feng had shifted from defiance to dread. "What... what is your cultivation level?"

"No need to share that," Ye Feng replied as he approached the table. "Now, will you register me?"

"Yes, of course."

People tend to pick on those weaker than themselves and cower before the strong. Ye Feng's display of power had quieted the murmurs around him, and the disciple's demeanor had shifted to one of great respect.

He registered Ye Feng's name swiftly, not daring to lift his eyes.

Ye Feng, indifferent to the change in attitude, took his number card and proceeded inside.

Once he was gone, the onlookers began to whisper among themselves.

"What kind of strength does he have?"

"Must be Rank Seven, right? How else could he defeat a Senior Brother from the Inner Sect?"

"Isn't Young Master Lee at the Spirit Astral Stage Rank Three?"

"He's his male companion; it's only natural he'd have that strength."

Had Ye Feng been present, he would have given the speaker a piece of his mind. Was he never to shake off the label of a male companion?

As the crowd below buzzed with speculation, others observed the scene from the loft above.

"Senior Brother, what's your take?" a young woman asked, turning away from the scene to face the young man delicately tasting his tea beside her.

"True or false, we'll have to wait and see," the Senior Brother responded, setting his teacup down with a measured grace and rising from his chair. "Those who break the rules must face consequences. Once registration is over, send that disciple to receive fifty days of punishment."

"Ah? Fifty days? Isn't that a bit severe?" the woman remarked, though her eyes betrayed her excitement. She was clearly pleased with the prospect.

The sect's culture needs to be addressed; otherwise, everyone will be too busy forming factions instead of focusing on their cultivation." With a flick of his sleeves, the man exited the room.

Ye Feng was unaware of the events unfolding in the room. He was seated in the resting area, patiently awaiting the commencement of the Elite Disciple Selection Competition.

"Hey, isn't that the Ye loser? What's the matter? Shouldn't you be attending to your master instead of showing up here?" He preferred to avoid conflict, but there always seemed to be those who considered themselves above others and sought to provoke him.

Take, for instance, Chen Yu, who had just approached his seat.

"Heh, I wouldn't have imagined that a mere defeated foe would have the audacity to yap in front of me. You've got some nerve," Ye Feng retorted with a sneer.

Chen Yu, bristling with indignation like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, snapped at Ye Feng, "What's there to be arrogant about? You're nothing but a man serving as a pet. How far do you think you can get? Plus, I've got some news for you. In the past month, I've advanced to Rank Eight. You'd better hope you don't face me, or I'll turn you into the sect's laughingstock."

Chen Yu had his plans all mapped out, having had his elder brother pave the way for him. As soon as the competition started, he would be pitted against Ye Feng in the very first match. He intended to disgrace him in front of all the sect disciples, ensuring everyone recognized him as worthless.

What difference did it make if he was a Martial Uncle? It wasn't publicly acknowledged, was it? If he couldn't even manage to cultivate, surely the Tower Guarding Elder would abandon him, his so-called Martial Brother.

Ye Feng observed Chen Yu's smug look and held back the retort that was on the tip of his tongue. After all, he was a decent person and didn't want to spoil someone else's mood.

"Then let's wait and see," Ye Feng said with a cold smile, clearly indicating he had no interest in further engagement.

As Chen Yu was about to respond, the sound of the gong echoed across the square, signaling the start of the Elite Disciple Selection Competition. Reluctantly, Chen Yu made his way back to his seat.

With the Sect Master in seclusion, the great elder, the most venerated figure, presided over the competition. After delivering an inspiring speech, he proceeded with the lot-drawing ceremony to determine the matchups.

Chen Yun, regarded as the second-ranking Sect Disciple and holding some sway among the disciples, was responsible for the first round of lot drawing.

"First match, number one versus number fifty-nine."

Number one was Chen Yu, and number fifty-nine, Ye Feng.

Ye Feng had anticipated this matchup. Nonchalantly, he clapped his hands and rose from his seat.

Somewhere in the crowd, a voice shouted, "Senior Brother Chen, take down that shameless scoundrel."

The taunt was quickly taken up by others, and soon the arena echoed with voices condemning him.

Chen Yu stood in the center of the arena, locking eyes with Ye Feng and giving him a challenging look. The message was clear: he intended to make Ye Feng taste humiliation today.

Ye Feng sighed inwardly at the arrogance on display.

Without further ado, he flashed into the arena, moving so swiftly that only those with higher cultivation could catch his movement.

"Ghost Shadow Step," the great elder exclaimed, visibly impressed.

Even Elder Bai, aware of Ye Feng's true identity, couldn't hide his astonishment.

The Ghost Shadow Step, while powerful, was notoriously difficult to master. It required not only expert guidance but also immense courage and resilience. Many disciples had abandoned its practice at the intermediate stage.

In the entire sect, only a handful of disciples had mastered the Ghost Shadow Step, and none displayed the effortless proficiency that Ye Feng did.

Maybe Xue Er was right; this young man could indeed be a rare talent.

The spectators' attention was riveted on the action in the arena, oblivious to the stir among the elders.

"Remember, this is a friendly spar among sect members. No serious injuries, and stop at the first touch," Chen Yun announced, exchanging a meaningful glance with Chen Yu that only the two of them understood.

Watching Chen Yu eagerly preparing for the fight, Ye Feng couldn't help but smirk to himself.

"Come on," Ye Feng beckoned with a crooked finger.

"I'll make you regret this," Chen Yu declared, drawing the ornately carved sword from his waist. The blade gleamed, its quality evidently superior to his previous sword.

Catching Ye Feng's eye, Chen Yu flaunted the sword, "Thanks to you taking that old sword, my grandfather replaced it with this low-grade Divine Artifact from the auction house."

A low-grade Divine Artifact, its power is yet to be seen.

"Once you're done with your pointless chatter, we can begin the match," Ye Feng said with a yawn.