The fragrance of evening blossoms lingered around the stone houses in Elder Mei's garden, the air calm but tense like the stillness before a storm. Disciples moved quietly, afraid to disturb the silent clash of two powerful figures.

Inside Mo Han's residence, the thick wooden door creaked open. Elder Mei, dressed in her snow-white robes, her eyes sharp like polished jade, stood at the threshold. Across from her, a figure in black stepped lightly onto the stone path—Elder Park. Her expression was twisted with disdain, lips curled as though she had swallowed poison.

"You dare come here?" Elder Mei's tone cut through the quiet like a blade. "This is my garden. My disciple resides here."

"Disciple?" Elder Park sneered, her voice shrill. "That boy? That thing from the Pink Blossom Tree sect? Mei, even you can't be serious. To protect a rotten seedling, are you ready to go against me?"

Elder Mei's expression remained calm, but the pressure of her aura rippled outward. "Mo Han is under me now. Remember this, Park. He is my disciple. If you dare raise a hand, then you'll face me first."

The garden seemed to grow colder. The faint rustling of trees turned sharp, like whispers of warning. Elder Park's eyes narrowed, her nails biting into her palms. But she forced a smile, brittle and false.

"Very well. I won't fight you here," she hissed, "but you can't shield him forever. You'll regret this."

With that, Elder Mei turned away. "I do not regret choosing talent." Her voice was as firm as stone. She gave Mo Han a single glance, eyes filled with unspoken warning and trust, before walking past him.

The moment Mei disappeared into the inner courtyard, Elder Park's smile dropped. Her eyes turned venomous as she stepped inside Mo Han's stone house without invitation.

Mo Han was sitting calmly, sorting through manuals and jade slips. He looked up, his expression unchanged, as though an elder's fury meant nothing.

"You… you are just a dumb seed from the Pink Blossom Tree," Elder Park spat, stepping closer, her shadow looming across the table. "That sect has rotted for years. How can you—a nobody, a discarded child of a weak sect—suddenly heal wounds even I cannot? Brew elixirs with precision even seasoned alchemists envy? Who are you fooling, boy?"

Mo Han smiled faintly, a curve of his lips that made her blood boil. "Who am I fooling? No one. Everything I've done, I've done before your very eyes. It is you who refuses to see."

Her face twitched. "Don't play word games with me. Knowledge of healing, alchemy, and fire control of that level does not appear out of thin air. Tell me—who taught you? Which ancient master hides behind your back?!"

Mo Han stood slowly, his black robes brushing against the stone floor. His gaze locked onto hers—calm, but with an edge that made her shiver against her will.

"Elder Park," he said softly, "in your world, everything must have a master. Every talent must come from lineage. But tell me…" He leaned forward slightly, his eyes burning with quiet intensity. "…what if I told you I am my own master?"

She scoffed, masking the sudden chill in her heart. "Arrogant brat. No disciple of the Eternal Night Mansion speaks to me like this. Don't think Elder Mei's shadow will shield you forever."

Mo Han's smile widened, though it never reached his eyes. "Shadow? No. I walk in the light of my own sword."

Park's aura flared, the pressure of an elder rank cultivator shaking the stone walls. The air grew heavy, the ground trembling faintly. "Enough! You will answer me. What are you hiding? How do you know all these things?! If you don't speak, I will drag the truth out of you."

Mo Han did not flinch. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, his tone turning mocking. "You want answers? Fine. I'll give you one. Repeat my name ten times."

Her brows furrowed. "What nonsense is this?"

Mo Han's eyes sharpened, his voice steady, unwavering.

"Say my name ten times… and perhaps you will realize who I am."

The room fell silent. Elder Park's heart thumped louder than she wished. There was something in his tone—something that pressed against her mind like invisible chains.

"Mo Han…" she muttered once, almost against her will.

But she stopped, biting her tongue, her eyes wide with sudden unease. What was this? A spell? An enchantment? Or something deeper—an aura of destiny she could not comprehend?

Mo Han turned away, his figure calm as still water. "You don't dare finish. That alone tells me enough."

He walked past her, his footsteps echoing like thunder in the small stone house. As he reached the door, he paused. Without looking back, he spoke again, his words carrying the weight of mountains.

"Do not waste your time trying to measure me, Elder Park. You can't measure the sky with a cup, nor can you cage a storm with bare hands. Remember this: Mo Han does not bow."

Then, with a casual flick of his sleeve, he pushed open the door. The cool evening air swept inside, scattering the tension like leaves in the wind.

Elder Park stood frozen, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Rage burned in her heart, but beneath it… a flicker of something far more dangerous: fear.

She clenched her fists until her nails drew blood, her teeth grinding. "Mo Han…" she whispered to herself, her voice trembling with fury. "You think you can walk out with arrogance? You'll regret crossing me."

Outside, Mo Han's silhouette faded into the twilight, the garden path glowing faintly under the dying sun. His back was straight, his steps unhurried, as though the confrontation was nothing but a ripple on the surface of his calm ocean.

Those watching from afar whispered among themselves, stunned by the clash of words between elder and disciple. Yet Mo Han paid them no mind.

In his heart, only one thought resounded like a vow.

The name Mo Han will echo far beyond this sect. Let them doubt now—soon, they will bow.

And with that, he vanished into the evening haze, leaving Elder Park to stew in her venom and confusion.

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