Chapter Thirty-Two: I Wonder If You Can Stomach This?

“Ding dong, congratulations to the host Wang Ran for inflicting a profound shock on the disciples of all sects, earning five Dao Points as a reward!”

“Ding dong, congratulations to the host Wang Ran for inflicting a profound shock on the disciples of all sects, earning five Dao Points as a reward!”

A series of system notifications echoed in his mind, but Wang Ran's expression remained unaltered. His posture was as straight as a sword, standing tall with an air of pride.

Behind him, the burly man coughed violently several times before staggering to his feet. When he looked at Wang Ran, his eyes brimmed with awe. He cupped his fists respectfully and said, “Thank you, Senior, for showing mercy.”

He knew all too well that for someone to break through the Falling Cloud Armor in a single move, the cultivation of the man before him must far exceed his own—profound and unfathomable, likely at the legendary Nascent Soul stage.

The use of a mere tree branch as a weapon had not been arrogance, but rather restraint.

After all, just using a branch had inflicted such dreadful damage upon him. One could imagine that, had it been a real sword—even the most ordinary iron blade—he would surely have been decapitated.

This thought made cold sweat stream down the man's back, and his respect for Wang Ran only deepened.

Huang Huifeng, the person in charge of the place, was equally stunned. That was a sixth-grade spiritual artifact, and yet, in the hands of this mysterious cultivator, it had been as nothing!

It was clear that this man's cultivation far surpassed the Golden Core stage.

At the same time, Huang Huifeng felt a bitter regret. Why hadn't he noticed him before? Now the Falling Cloud Armor was as good as gone.

Faced with a Nascent Soul cultivator, he dared not utter the slightest objection, let alone go back on his word.

Swallowing nervously, he cupped his fists, anxiety in his heart. “Senior, you honor our Falling Cloud Pavilion with your presence. I apologize for not welcoming you sooner. May I ask your esteemed name?”

Wang Ran lifted his gaze lightly, looking to the sky at a forty-five degree angle, and spoke in a composed, almost theatrical tone, “The affairs of the world rise and fall, all are in vain. You may call me Chen Wangran.”

“Chen Wangran? An excellent name!” Huang Huifeng took a step forward, bowing with flattery. “Senior Chen, please follow me to the inner hall for a discussion.”

With that, he led the way. Wang Ran, after a brief moment of consideration, followed.

As soon as the two left, the surrounding cultivators erupted in excited discussion.

“Who is this extraordinary figure, able to break the Falling Cloud Armor with a single move?”

“Chen Wangran? Never heard of him!”

“Judging by his skill, he must be at least a Nascent Soul cultivator!”

“Indeed. When he struck, I couldn't even see how he did it.”

“And there was no fluctuation in his aura at all—he has achieved perfect control. This is the mark of a true master!”

“This man possesses such cultivation and yet comes to Falling Cloud City—could he also be here for the auction?”

“He looks like a sword cultivator.”

“I hear sword cultivators are fierce and love battle—not people to provoke lightly!”

…

Amidst the crowd, Beiming Lie, who had been concealing his presence, watched intently, his breathing quickening. He had thought this man was at most at the Golden Core level, but now realized his strength was even higher—reaching the Nascent Soul stage.

If only he could befriend him and receive a few pointers, his own cultivation would surely soar.

With this in mind, Beiming Lie resolved to ingratiate himself with Chen Wangran at any cost!

For cultivators at their Foundation Establishment level, meeting a Nascent Soul master was a rare opportunity. While his sect did have Nascent Soul elders, they were elusive and rarely appeared, like Elder Feng Yazhi, who spent most of his time in seclusion and had only recently emerged briefly to preside over the Enlightenment Ceremony before retreating again.

As for his own grandfather, the elder in charge of formations, he was only at the Golden Core stage.

This time, Beiming Lie felt that the auction was no longer his priority—meeting Chen Wangran was his true stroke of fortune!

His heart pounding, he readied all the spirit jade in his storage bags, determined to seize this opportunity to connect with Chen Wangran, no matter what it took.

Meanwhile, inside the inner hall.

Wang Ran followed Huang Huifeng into a lavishly decorated chamber. As soon as they were seated, several sweet-faced, alluringly dressed maids appeared, serving each of them a cup of tea.

Huang Huifeng waved his hand. “You may leave us.”

“Yes, sir,” the maids replied, retreating gracefully and closing the door behind them.

Once they were alone, Huang Huifeng smiled, “Please, Senior Chen, have some tea.”

Wang Ran lifted his cup calmly. “No rush for tea. Steward Huang, may I ask if your earlier words still stand? Is the Falling Cloud Armor ready?”

Huang Huifeng seemed to have anticipated this. With a light cough, he replied, “Senior, though you won the contest, this item is truly precious. I fear I cannot decide on my own and must seek our city lord’s approval.”

“Oh?” Wang Ran's eyes narrowed, and at that moment, an overwhelming and commanding aura burst forth from him, sweeping across the chamber. Vases shook and curtains fluttered violently.

Huang Huifeng’s expression froze. For just an instant, even with his Golden Core cultivation, he felt a wave of panic and confusion.

In truth, Huang Huifeng had only used the city lord as an excuse to test Wang Ran’s true strength. Now, the answer was clear.

Just a hint of his aura was terrifying enough. Huang Huifeng was certain—this was indeed a Nascent Soul cultivator, not someone he could afford to offend!

Unbeknownst to him, Wang Ran was merely using a technique specialized in cultivating one’s aura—a bluff, in fact.

Still, this domineering air was a divine skill, flawless for intimidation.

Of course, a powerful presence was not enough—acting was key.

Wang Ran now wore an icy expression, his eyes tinged with displeasure, his left hand absently rubbing his right pinky, as if he could destroy the world at any moment.

As expected, Huang Huifeng was startled, fearing he had crossed a line. He quickly forced a smile, slapped his own cheek in reproach, and apologized, “Ah, Senior Chen, my memory fails me! I just recalled—the city lord is in seclusion and cannot be consulted.”

“But please rest assured, I’ll take responsibility. The sixth-grade spiritual artifact, Falling Cloud Armor, will be presented to you immediately.”

With a flash of golden light, Huang Huifeng retrieved a radiant suit of armor from his storage pouch. “This is the Falling Cloud Armor. It can alter its size freely to fit any wearer, man or woman.”

“And please, accept this token as well. From now on, you are an honored guest of Falling Cloud City. If you need anything, do not hesitate to command.”

Feeling the aura of the sixth-grade artifact beside him, Wang Ran’s heart pounded, though he maintained a calm exterior. “If the city lord is indisposed, then I must have misunderstood.”

“By the way, Steward Huang, I have some useless cultivation methods. Would your pavilion be interested in acquiring them?” Wang Ran asked as he put away the Falling Cloud Armor.

At first, Huang Huifeng tensed when addressed, but after hearing Wang Ran’s full proposal, he relaxed. “Of course, Senior! Our pavilion offers fair prices for all such things.”

“Good. However, I have quite a few techniques to sell—are you sure you have the capacity to take them all?”

Huang Huifeng confidently patted his chest. “Senior, you needn’t worry. In all our years, what techniques have we not collected? Even fifty or sixty manuals would be no trouble.”

“Excellent.” Wang Ran smiled faintly and, with a wave of his hand, countless scrolls of cultivation methods appeared, filling the hall with a dazzling display of spiritual light.

With a thud, Huang Huifeng was left utterly dumbfounded. His mind buzzed as he stared at the vast number of scrolls floating before him, unable to utter a single word. The teacup in his hand slipped and crashed to the floor, spilling tea everywhere.