The morning sun cast long shadows across the cobblestones of the Ye family estate. It was a place Lu Feng had served for three years, his head always bowed, his presence as insignificant as dust. Today, he returned not as a servant, but as a specter of forgotten power. The two guards at the gate, who had often kicked him for being too slow, straightened their backs. They saw him coming, his steps measured and silent. The cheap servant’s robes were the same, but the man inside them was reborn in ice and steel. "Halt! Trash like you has no business here anymore!" one guard barked, his hand moving to the hilt of his saber. Lu Feng did not stop. He didn’t even look at them. He simply kept walking. An invisible pressure, a killing intent so pure it felt like a physical weight, slammed into the guards. Their knees buckled. Their breath caught in their throats. They couldn't move, couldn't speak, could only watch in mute terror as the 'trash' they once tormented walked past them as if they were nothing. He stepped into the main courtyard. It was bustling with activity. Elders of the Ye family were fawning over a young man dressed in opulent white and gold robes, a longsword with a jade tassel at his hip. This was the Young Master of the Hua Shan Sect. Beside him, radiating smug triumph, was Ye Yao. She wore a silk dress that shimmered in the sun, a stark contrast to the torn paper of their engagement she had thrown at Lu Feng’s feet just yesterday. "Young Master Hua, your divine steed is truly a creature of legend!" an elder gushed. "A thousand-mile-per-day spirit beast!" Young Master Hua chuckled, a sound full of arrogance. "Of course. Only the best is worthy of the Hua Shan Sect. And only the best is worthy of my Yao'er." He ran a possessive hand down Ye Yao's arm. She leaned into him, her smile poisonous as she glanced around the courtyard. Her eyes landed on Lu Feng. Her smile vanished, replaced by a sneer of utter contempt. "What is this filth doing back here?" she hissed, pointing a delicate finger. "Did you come crawling back to beg?" All eyes turned to Lu Feng. The Young Master of Hua Shan’s gaze swept over him, disgust plain on his face. He saw the servant's robes, the familiar head of bowed black hair. This was the worm his fiancée had been shackled to. The thought was an insult. "You," the Young Master said, his voice dripping with disdain. "The trash servant Ye Yao spoke of. You have some nerve showing your face here." Lu Feng's eyes were calm, as deep and cold as a winter lake. He ignored them all, his gaze sweeping the courtyard until it landed on the small, dilapidated shed in the far corner. His servant’s quarters. His mother's only keepsake was in there. "I came for what is mine," Lu Feng said. His voice was flat, devoid of emotion, yet it cut through the morning chatter like a blade. Young Master Hua laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "What is yours? Everything in this estate belongs to the Ye family! A dog like you owns nothing but the dirt on your clothes." He gestured to his magnificent white stallion, tied to a nearby post. The horse was a proud, powerful beast, its coat gleaming. He kicked a wooden bucket and a rough brush toward Lu Feng’s feet. They clattered on the stone. "However," the Young Master continued, a cruel smirk playing on his lips, "I am feeling generous. My spirit beast needs washing. Kneel. Wash my horse. Do a good job, and I might allow you to leave with your limbs intact." The Ye family elders roared with laughter. It was the ultimate humiliation. Forcing a man to kneel and wash the horse of his former fiancée’s new lover. It was a slap so vicious it would break any man's spirit. Ye Yao folded her arms, her expression one of pure, malicious satisfaction. "He’s right, Lu Feng. This is your station in life. You should be grateful for the opportunity to serve a true dragon like Young Master Hua. Kneel and wash his horse. It's the most honor you will ever have." Lu Feng’s eyes finally moved. They flickered towards Ye Yao, then the Young Master. There was no anger. No hatred. Only a profound, chilling indifference. The indifference of a god looking upon ants. He did not look at the bucket. He did not look at the horse. He simply turned and began walking towards the servant's shed. Silence fell over the courtyard. The laughter died in their throats. This was not the reaction they expected. They expected begging, or tears, or perhaps a futile outburst of rage. They did not expect to be ignored. Young Master Hua’s face turned crimson. The casual dismissal was a greater insult than any curse. It was as if he, the heir to the great Hua Shan Sect, did not even exist. "You dare defy me?!" he roared, his Inner Qi flaring with rage. "You worthless piece of trash! You're courting death!" Lu Feng didn't stop. He was three steps away from the shed. "Zhang Hu!" the Young Master shrieked, his voice cracking with fury. "Break his arm! Teach this dog the price of disrespect!" A tall, powerfully built man in the guard uniform of the Hua Shan Sect stepped forward. A palpable aura of power radiated from him; his meridians pulsed with well-trained true essence. He was a peak martial artist, a man who could shatter stone with a single punch. "With pleasure, Young Master," Zhang Hu growled. He lunged, his hand shooting out like a claw, aimed directly at Lu Feng’s shoulder. The air cracked as his attack tore through it. He would not just break the arm; he would shatter the bone and cripple the meridian points within it. Lu Feng did not turn. He did not slow his pace. He did not even seem to notice the lethal attack coming from behind. He only gave a faint snort. An invisible shield of sword-qi erupted from his body and blasted the guard ten zhang away; the man vomited blood and died on the spot. The Young Master of Hua Shan recoiled in terror: "Self-manifesting sword-qi? You... you're a Sword Ancestor?!"

Chapter 2: Kneel and Wash My Horse