Wei Ji let the silence hang for a moment. The tension in the hall felt like a blade pressed to everyone's throats. His gaze moved between Han Zukong and Han Zhanjian, both standing still, panting, drenched in sweat. The faint shimmer of spiritual light still lingered around their swords, but neither dared move again. Wei Ji finally spoke, his tone quiet yet filled with weight.

"You don't have to fight."

The words were calm, but they fell like thunder in the quiet hall. Everyone looked at him, unsure if they'd heard correctly.

Han Zukong blinked, still breathing hard. "What?"

Wei Ji took a slow step forward, his eyes soft but steady. "You're brothers. This isn't a battlefield. You've both proven your strength." His gaze shifted to Zukong first. "You, the older brother, have shown your will and perseverance. You refuse to back down, even when the world laughs at you." Then he turned to Zhanjian. "And you, the younger, have shown patience and restraint. You're gifted beyond measure, but you still held back to protect your kin. That's enough."

Han Zukong clenched his jaw. "But…"

"No." Wei Ji's voice turned firmer. "You've done more than enough. What you two should focus on now isn't who's better, but how far you can go together. The way of the sword isn't about fighting the ones closest to you. It's about fighting the world."

The crowd murmured softly. Some disciples glanced at one another, uneasy. The elders exchanged brief looks but didn't interrupt. The faint tremor in the air began to fade.

Wei Ji's words continued, flowing with quiet authority. "You both have talent. Your paths are clear now. Leave this place. Begin your cultivation properly. If you stay, it will only draw unwanted attention."

Han Zukong frowned. "Unwanted attention?"

Wei Ji nodded. His gaze moved subtly toward the elders, then to the disciples of Sword Shandian Sect. "The sect stayed here for too long and even if we don't have the special eyes, they might think it's here. Rumors will grow. And when the other sects hear that one of the Han Family awakened a legendary trait, they'll come. Some will wish to recruit you. Others will wish to destroy you. Either way, this place will no longer be safe."

The words settled like cold wind over the hall.

Han Zhanjian's hand tightened around his sword. His face showed confusion and a trace of fear. "Then… what should we do?"

Wei Ji's expression softened. "You leave. You both go and start your cultivation far away from here. Lay low, train quietly, and when you're ready, return stronger."

Han Zukong lowered his weapon. His shoulders finally loosened, and he let out a long breath. "Leave… huh. You're right. I almost forgot what matters."

Wei Ji turned toward the elders and bowed slightly, his tone respectful but distant. "Han Family has no intention of causing any more disturbance. We appreciate your patience and hospitality, but we'll take our leave now."

For a moment, none of the elders responded. Then one of them finally stepped forward, an older man with white hair and a sharp gaze. "You speak with reason, young man. But before you go… may I ask, who are you exactly?"

That question echoed through the crowd like a ripple.

The disciples whispered among themselves.

"Who is he?"

"He stopped both of them like it was nothing."

"His presence is strange. I can't sense his aura clearly."

Someone from the Han Family finally answered, his voice proud but cautious. "That is Han Ji. The eldest among the three brothers."

Immediately, the murmuring grew louder.

"What? The eldest?"

"I thought he was just a useless one."

"Didn't people say he had no talent at all?"

A younger servant laughed under his breath. "A bad reputation, that's what I heard. Always causing trouble, lazy, unmotivated. The family was even embarrassed to mention him during the last clan meeting."

But then another spoke up quickly, shaking his head. "You didn't see it earlier. He killed someone. A cultivator who attacked their family. Everyone thought he was worthless, but he fought and won."

The first disciple froze. "He killed… a cultivator?"

"Yes," someone else said. "A demonic cultivator, they said. The kind that feeds on others' spiritual energy. Everyone saw the remains. It wasn't a rumor."

The elders exchanged uneasy glances. One of them narrowed his eyes, looking carefully at Wei Ji. His expression didn't show much, but the faint pulse of power in the air hinted at cultivation that wasn't ordinary.

"That can't be right," one elder muttered softly. "He's only at the fourth stage of Infusion. Even a weak cultivator should've overwhelmed him."

The Han Family elder straightened. "He did it. We witnessed it with our own eyes. I don't know how, but he did."

Wei Ji stayed silent through it all, his expression calm, almost indifferent. He had no interest in correcting them or explaining himself. He'd already achieved what he came for.

The eldest elder finally nodded, his tone more respectful. "If that's true, then your family has produced something remarkable. Perhaps even more than we imagined."

Wei Ji inclined his head slightly. "We're nothing remarkable. Just a small family trying to survive."

Han Zhanjian and Han Zukong stepped beside him. The air around them had settled completely now, though the marks of their battle remained—cracked floors, shattered tiles, the faint smell of burnt Qi lingering in the air.

The elders began to whisper again, their voices mixing between admiration and curiosity.

Then, as Wei Ji was about to turn and leave, a familiar voice cut through the noise.

"Wait."

It was Ren, his tone half-smiling, half-taunting. He took a slow step forward, his hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword. "Before you go, I can't help but ask… what about you?"

Wei Ji turned his head slightly, his eyes cold. "What about me?"

Ren smirked. "You talk about cultivation and the way of the sword as if you've already mastered it. You stopped two fighters today and claimed to have killed a cultivator. So, I was wondering…" He raised his chin slightly. "Would you like to test your sword Dao? Perhaps with me."

The crowd went silent again. Some of the younger disciples looked excited, while others frowned in discomfort.

Han Zukong's grip tightened on his sword. "You're picking the wrong fight, Senior."

Ren chuckled. "I'm only curious. A man like him, hiding behind his words—let's see if he can match his actions."

Wei Ji stared at him for a long moment. Then he shook his head. "I'm not a sword cultivator."

Ren blinked, a small laugh escaping him. "Not a sword cultivator? Then what are you doing here among the Sword Shandian Sect?"

Wei Ji's eyes darkened. "I am not coming with you and only my brothers." He turned to the Han Family and said quietly, "go leave."

Han Zukong nodded, glancing once at Ren with visible irritation. Han Zhanjian followed his older brother without a word, still catching his breath from their duel.

They began walking toward the exit, the light from the open hall doors spilling across their path. The murmurs followed them, whispers of awe, confusion, and envy filling the air as the crowd parted for them to pass.

Ren stood still, watching them leave. His smirk faded into a cold, thoughtful expression. His hand slipped off his sword hilt, but his eyes never left Wei Ji's back.

When the trio disappeared beyond the courtyard gate, Ren's gaze sharpened. A glint of malice flashed in his pupils, hidden behind a polite smile.

"Not a sword cultivator, huh," he murmured quietly to himself. "We'll see about that."

He clenched his fist, lowering his head so no one could see his expression. "The elders may protect you here," he whispered, "but once you leave their sight, I'll make sure you don't come back."

The words disappeared into the cold wind sweeping through the hall, unheard by anyone else. Only the faint sound of the departing brothers' footsteps lingered, fading slowly into the distance.

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