The silence that settled over the tavern courtyard was suffocating, broken only by the ragged, desperate gasps of the twenty mercenaries clutching their solar plexuses. As the paralysis from Ethan’s precise strikes slowly began to wear off, the thugs looked up at the pristine, white-robed youth standing under the flickering lanterns. The raw, absolute terror in their eyes was palpable.

"Please... young master, have mercy!" one of the mercenaries groaned, dragging his knees through the dirt as he choked out his words. "It wasn’t our idea! We were just following orders! Everything... everything was the bearded boss’s doing! He’s the one who wanted to rob the kid!"

"Yeah! We didn’t even touch the boy! It was all him!" another shouted, desperately trying to distance himself from the unconscious, bloody heap on the floor.

Ethan didn’t show a flicker of emotion. He stood perfectly still, his hands resting casually behind his back as he looked down at the pathetic display. "If you want this night to end with your lives intact, I need to see your honesty," he said, his voice flat, calm, and chillingly devoid of empathy. "Every single one of you will break your own right arm. Right now. If I have to do it for you, I cannot promise that I will stop at just an arm."

The mercenaries went entirely rigid. They looked at each other, their faces turning a sickly shade of green. For a second, a few of them considered fighting back, but looking at the terrifyingly serene expression on Ethan’s face, they knew resistance was suicide.

CRACK!

The first mercenary braced his right forearm against the edge of a heavy oak table and brought his left fist down with a sickening, desperate force. A sharp howl of agony ripped through his throat as the bone splintered beneath the skin.

Once the first bone broke, the rest followed like dominoes. The courtyard quickly transformed into a horrific symphony of violent snaps, dull thuds, and agonizing screams.

CRACK! SNAP! CRACK!

Men threw themselves to the ground, deliberately stamping on their own limbs or slamming them against stone pillars, weeping bitterly from the self-inflicted torture. Within minutes, twenty hardened criminals were curled into fetal positions on the dirt, cradling their shattered right arms, sweat pouring down their pale faces.

Through it all, Roy stood frozen, his jaw hanging open as he witnessed the sheer weight of Ethan’s authority. He had never seen anything like this. A single word from this youth had forced an entire gang of ruthless thugs to mutilate themselves out of pure, unbridled fear.

Ethan ignored the screaming completely. His gaze shifted toward the tavern’s kitchen counter, where several fresh sacks of high-quality supplies were laid out.

[Master, the dark leafy greens in the leather satchel are Star-Mist Grass. While commonly used as a cooking spice by mortals, their high concentration of cooling spiritual energy will perfectly supplement your Core Awakening stabilization. The lean cuts of horned-deer meat beside them are also rich in clean essence.] Crul reported smoothly.

"Good. We aren’t leaving empty-handed," Ethan thought.

He walked over to the counter, casually slinging the heavy sacks of premium meat and vegetables over his shoulder. He then reached down to the floor, picked up the stolen leather pouch containing their medium-grade Spirit Stone, and tossed it directly into Roy’s trembling hands.

"Let’s go," Ethan said quietly.

The walk back to the residential district was dead silent. The bustling noise of the town center faded away, leaving only the sound of their boots crunching against the loose gravel. Roy walked half a step behind Ethan, keeping his head low. He looked at the blood drying on his knuckles, then at the flawless, unblemished white fabric of Ethan’s tunic. He wanted to speak, to ask a thousand questions about who Ethan really was or where that terrifying power came from, but his throat felt entirely dry.

High above the courtyard, hidden within the deep shadows of an ancient stone pagoda, two figures stood completely motionless, their gazes locked onto Ethan’s retreating back. Both men wore the long, sweeping robes of the Heavenly Sword Pavilion, their spiritual auras perfectly suppressed into the surrounding darkness.

"What do you think?" the younger cultivator asked, his voice a barely audible whisper as he adjusted the hilt of his sword. "Could he be a spy from the southern kingdoms? His actions since entering the border town are highly erratic in my opinion. A true refugee wouldn’t draw this much attention to himself."

The second figure, an elder with a long, meticulously groomed white beard that reached his chest, let out a soft, low chuckle. He stroked his beard, his sharp eyes glinting with the wisdom of centuries. "I have observed him closely since the moment he crossed the lower perimeter, and the intelligence reports from our scouts line up perfectly. He originates from Green Mountain Village, which was utterly wiped out days ago."

The elder paused, looking at the pristine white and gold tunic Ethan wore. "In that village, there lived a secluded clan known as the Brilliant Sword family. Their descendants were renowned for their unique physical training and absolute precision. The tunic he wears bears the exact custom sigils of that household. It is highly likely he is the young master of that fallen line. According to the registry, the clan leader’s sole surviving son was named Ethan. It is undoubtedly him."

"But his strength..." the younger disciple muttered, looking down at the groaning mercenaries clutching their shattered arms.

"It would be far more suspicious if the heir of the Brilliant Sword clan couldn’t dismantle a handful of low-life mercenaries," the elder countered smoothly, a trace of pity entering his voice. "Furthermore, look at the blackened, twine-wrapped length of iron on his back. That is no mere scrap metal. That is the Black Ruin Sword, a familial relic said to have been unearthed by their first ancestor in an ancient ruin thousands of years ago. Despite its crude, weathered appearance, its weight and density are legendary. It is a tragedy that such a proud lineage fell into such extreme disgrace after that disastrous internal incident five hundred years ago."

The elder turned away from the balcony, his white robes rustling in the night breeze. "He has clearly traveled all this way to participate in our upcoming disciple selection trials. Send the official report to the inner council and clear his file. There is no need for further surveillance or investigation. He is a clean, authentic seedling for our sect. I am quite eager to see just how formidable the legendary Brilliant Sword technique truly is when the trials begin."

-------------------

From this moment forward, to avoid confusion regarding cultivation ranks, I will include this footer with the current established levels.

Note: These are only the ranks mentioned so far to avoid spoilers.

Body Refinement Realm

Skin Refinement / Bone Refinement / Organ Refinement

Spiritual Gathering Realm

Spiritual Perception / Spiritual Mist / Spiritual Condensation

Spiritual Core Realm

Core Solidification / Core Awakening / Spiritual Collapse (Half-step Spiritual Core)

Spiritual Soul Realm

Spiritual Soul Awakening / Soul Nourishing / Soul-Core Fusion

Golden Core Realm

Prime Fusion / Core Perfection / Core Destruction

Spiritual Sea Realm

Stage 1 ?? / Stage 2 ?? / Stage 3 ??

Dao Manifestation Realm

Stage 1 ?? / Stage 2 ?? / Stage 3 ??

Spiritual Transcendence

Stage 1 ?? / Stage 2 ?? / Stage 3 ??