The news of Han Yan's shattered jade sword spread through the Medicine Refinement Peak like a wildfire. However, Han Feng didn't stick around to hear the gossip. He knew that by tomorrow, the Third Elder would likely stop sending his children and start sending hired killers or corrupt deacons.
He needed more than just raw power. He needed a weapon and a breakthrough.
The Archive's Basement
Under the cover of midnight, Han Feng returned to the Deep Archive. This time, he didn't come as a janitor. He bypassed the main entrance, using his newfound [Phantom Flicker] movement technique to blur past the sleepy guards.
He wasn't looking for the Chaos Record—he already had that. He was looking for the "Trash Section": the shelf of scrolls deemed too dangerous or too broken to be useful.
[Perfect Insight: Scanning...]
Target: Seventh Shelf, Row 4.
Item: The Bone-Withered Draft.
Analysis: An incomplete pill formula intended for the 9th Level of Body Refining. Abandoned because it explodes in 99% of attempts.
Han Feng pulled the dusty, yellowed parchment from the shelf. To the clan's alchemists, this was a death sentence. To the Chaos Record, it was a puzzle waiting to be solved.
[Correcting Formula...]
Error found: Interaction between Fire-Spirit Root and Frost-Marrow.
Solution: Add three drops of Mortal Heart Blood to stabilize the Yin-Yang polarity.
New Item: Chaos-Foundation Pill.
"A pill that uses my own blood as a catalyst," Han Feng whispered. "Risky, but the efficiency is tripled."
The Secret Refinement
Han Feng didn't have a furnace. He didn't have a charcoal fire.
He sat in the center of his dilapidated shack, placing the stolen medicinal herbs he'd scavenged from the slag pits in a circle around him.
"If I can't use a furnace, I will use my own body," he muttered.
He activated the [Chaos Record]. Instead of absorbing energy, he projected it. His internal Qi began to rotate at high speeds, generating friction. His skin turned a deep, burning crimson.
One by one, the herbs began to wither, their green essences floating toward Han Feng's chest. He bit his tongue, spitting a mouthful of blood into the swirling green mist.
BOOM.
A muffled explosion rocked the shack. Smoke billowed out of the windows, but inside, Han Feng was holding a single, pulsating violet pill. It didn't smell like medicine; it smelled like lightning and ozone.
The Midnight Assassin
Just as Han Feng was about to swallow the pill, the paper-thin wall of his shack disintegrated.
A cold, silver streak of light sliced through the darkness. It was a professional strike—silent, aimed at the throat, and backed by the power of the 6th Level of Body Refining.
Clang!
Han Feng didn't move. He caught the assassin's dagger between his teeth.
The assassin, a masked man in black robes, froze. He had killed dozens of "geniuses" before, but he had never seen anyone catch a high-speed blade with their mouth.
"The Third Elder is getting impatient," Han Feng said, his voice muffled by the steel.
He spat the dagger out. It embedded itself three inches deep into the floorboards.
"Who sent you?"
The assassin didn't answer. He pulled two more daggers and blurred forward. He was a master of the Shadow-Step, a technique that made him look like three people at once.
[Perfect Insight: Analyzing Shadow-Step...]
Real Body Detected: The one on the left.
Flaw: The assassin favors his right lung due to an old injury.
Han Feng didn't use a technique. He simply stepped forward and delivered a palm strike to the "left" shadow.
CRUNCH.
The assassin's chest collapsed. He hit the back wall of the shack so hard the entire structure groaned. The mask fell off, revealing a man Han Feng recognized—Deacon Zhao, one of the Third Elder's personal enforcers.
"You... how..." Zhao coughed, his eyes wide with terror. "You're only... at the 3rd Level..."
"Levels are for people who don't have the Record," Han Feng said coldly.
He didn't give Zhao a second chance. He stepped on the man's throat, ending the threat instantly. He didn't feel guilt. In this world, if he hadn't been strong enough, he'd be the one on the floor.
The Breakthrough
With the assassin's body cooling in the corner, Han Feng sat back down and swallowed the Chaos-Foundation Pill.
The effect was instantaneous. It felt as if a supernova had gone off in his stomach. The energy didn't just fill his meridians; it began to polish his very bones, turning them from white to a dull, metallic silver.
[Cultivation Progress: 4th Level... 5th Level... 6th Level!]
[Warning: Body Refining reaching Critical Mass.]
His skin began to crack, and from beneath the cracks, a new, jade-like layer appeared.
When the sun rose over the Han Clan, Han Feng stood up. The shack was a ruin, a dead Deacon lay in the corner, and the air around Han Feng was distorting from the sheer density of his Qi.
He was now at the 7th Level of Body Refining.
In five days, he had accomplished what took most "geniuses" five years.
"Twenty-five days left until the Sect Trials," Han Feng said, looking toward the main peaks of the clan. "I think it's time I stopped hiding and started taking what belongs to me."
He walked out of the ruins of his home, heading straight for the Clan Treasury. He needed a sword, and he wasn't planning on paying for it.