The doors to the vast classroom burst open with a loud bang. A young man stormed in, his expression urgent and wild as his sharp eyes swept across the seated crowd. His gaze moved rapidly until it locked onto a particular student—a young man calmly holding a spirit stone in his hand, steadily absorbing its energy to cultivate without a care in the world.
"Chu Feng!" the intruder shouted, his voice echoing across the silent hall.
Chu Feng, feeling the hostile gaze settle on him, lazily turned his head to look—only to let out a long, tired sigh when he recognized who it was. Of course, it was his step-brother.
The moment their eyes met, the step-brother burst forward in a blur, throwing a heavy punch toward Chu Feng's face. But Chu Feng barely moved. With a slight tilt of his head, the attack whooshed past him harmlessly. A kick followed immediately after, but once again, Chu Feng evaded it effortlessly.
The sudden chaos instantly pulled the attention of every student in the room. After all, the one launching the assault was at Mid Greater Immortal—a respectable level of strength among those seated here. In contrast, Chu Feng was only at the Early Lesser Immortal realm.
The gap in cultivation was massive, so much so that everyone expected the outcome to be immediate and one-sided. A Mid Greater Immortal against an Early Lesser Immortal? It shouldn't have even been a contest.
Yet to everyone's shock, Chu Feng evaded every single attack with graceful ease. His step-brother's strikes came fast and fierce, but not once did they land. Chu Feng's body twisted, leaned, and flowed out of harm's way with movements so smooth it almost looked choreographed.
Even Itachi found himself surprised. Chu Feng wasn't stronger. He wasn't faster. And yet, every motion he made slipped through the chaos like water. It was effortless.
'Such perfect movements,' Itachi thought in shock. Even without activating his Sharingan, he could read Chu Feng's flow. The way his body reacted wasn't thought out—it was instinctual, a reflex rooted in deep mastery of combat. Chu Feng was moving before his brain even finished processing the danger.
In other words, Chu Feng was relying on skill over raw power. His step-brother may have been faster, stronger, and more explosive, but it didn't matter. Chu Feng's mastery of movement and precision eclipsed anything his opponent could hope to grasp.
'It's like he's playing a chess game,' Itachi thought, eyes narrowing with interest. Every shift of Chu Feng's weight, every dodge or sidestep—it wasn't random. Each movement was calculated, as if his entire body were reading several steps ahead.
Like a master chess player, Chu Feng baited attacks with subtle openings, only to slip away at the last moment. His positioning was deliberate, always one step ahead, and each reaction took into account not only the current attack but the next few that might follow. It was a dance of prediction, feints, and silent traps—one far more complex than it appeared on the surface.
When Chu Feng dodged, he moved with a subtle grace, always slipping into positions where he could instantly react to the next attack. Each evasion wasn't just a defense—it lured his step-brother in deeper, setting him up for the next misstep. Every move his opponent made became a blunder, and soon, Chu Feng saw the final opening.
He drove his fist into his step-brother's chest—not with brute force, but with uncanny mastery. The strike didn't feel like a normal punch. No, it was sharp, focused, like a nail being hammered through hardwood. Chu Feng had reshaped the force of his blow, concentrating it into a piercing motion.
His brother's defenses, though tougher than Chu Feng's strength should have allowed him to overcome, crumpled under the attack.
His stepbrother stumbled backward, eyes wide in disbelief as he clutched his chest. A small, clean hole had been punched into it. All that compressed force had been channeled into a single point, and it showed. Just a little farther to the left, and his heart would've been struck.
"You bastard… You must be working for the outsider! How else could you have gotten so powerful?" he shouted, the shock quickly morphing into rage.
He couldn't accept what had just happened. Chu Feng had always been trash—an embarrassment. The clan had all but erased him from memory, casting him into the shadows and replacing him outright. For years, Chu Feng had been nothing but a living punching bag, abused by even the lowliest servants.
Yet somehow, a few weeks ago, Chu Feng had passed the entrance exam to join this sect. Then, before leaving the clan, he'd stolen all of his accumulated wealth and vanished without a word.
"You were always trash!" his stepbrother roared, pointing a trembling hand at him. "You weren't even at the Martial Emperor realm a few weeks ago—after hundreds of years of struggling to break through!"
His voice cracked with disbelief and fury. "How else could you have improved so fast? How could you suddenly gain such power in such a short time?" he demanded, unable to comprehend what he was seeing.
Chu Feng frowned, his gaze lowering slightly as murmurs spread throughout the classroom. His stepbrother's outburst had stirred unease, and now dozens of disciples were eyeing him with sharp curiosity and doubt.
Indeed, the sudden leap in his cultivation and skill did raise questions. A few weeks ago, he had barely reached the Martial Emperor realm after centuries of failure—now he was matching someone a whole realm above him.
Even worse, the timing couldn't have been worse. His growth had coincided almost perfectly with the onset of war between their world and another. There was no evidence, but suspicion didn't always need proof to take root.
"You lost. Stop your crying, and just leave. It's embarrassing," Itachi said from his seat, his voice laced with mockery.
The stepbrother's eyes snapped toward Itachi, his expression twisting into rage. He wasn't alone. The entire class turned to look at the young boy who had dared to speak.
"So, you two are working together?" the stepbrother snapped, voice sharp with accusation. "That other world is said to have a higher cultivation ceiling than ours. Did they help a little brat like you sneak into this sect? They even went as far as hiding your cultivation!"
Itachi, still seated, only smiled in response—calm, amused, and utterly unfazed.
"There's a saying…" Itachi began with a lazy tone, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Which I completely forgot… but it went something like, 'Don't point at others when you've got three fingers pointing back at yourself.'"
"You're here yelling that we're working for the enemy," Itachi continued mockingly, "but why are you cultivating their arts?"
The moment the words left his mouth, the stepbrother froze. His face went pale, and the confidence in his posture collapsed into rigid silence.
"Oh? At a loss for words?" Itachi asked with a smirk, his voice calm and sharp. "It's your turn now. I spoke, now it's your move. We can keep going back and forth like this until it's obvious who the real traitor is."
The stepbrother's face twisted with panic. His mouth opened, but no words came. Then, grasping for a lifeline, he straightened his back and shouted, "Y-You—how dare you lie like that?! Do you know who I am? I'm the heir to the Chu clan!"
He puffed out his chest, hoping his family name would intimidate Itachi into silence. But all it did was earn a few raised eyebrows—and one very unimpressed look from Itachi.
"So, you're saying you have the full support of your clan?" Itachi asked with a sharp grin, his tone laced with amusement. "Meaning every action you took was done with their blessing and full knowledge? Because why else would someone who already has everything risk doing something like that?"
The stepbrother's face turned pale. "T-That's not what I said," he stammered, his voice cracking as his confidence began to crumble.
His earlier bravado was gone, replaced with a growing sense of dread. The room had gone quiet again, all eyes locked onto him, waiting to see what excuse he'd scramble for next… but all of them were sure that he was working for their enemies.
"But that's what you meant, right?" Itachi asked, voice mocking. "You're saying the Chu clan is fully supporting you, which would, in turn, solidify their relationship with our enemies."
The stepbrother took a small step back, his composure slipping as murmurs rippled through the class.
"You're bad at this game," Itachi continued with a teasing smirk. "You could've spun it better—maybe claimed I was working with the enemy, and that I was eliminating you because I saw no value in someone like you. That would've earned you some pity points at least."
The casual tone in Itachi's voice only made his words sting sharper, drawing a few surprised glances.
"Y-yes, that's what's happening! You're playing games with me!" the stepbrother shouted, his voice cracking under the pressure.
Itachi simply nodded, a playful glint in his eyes as he tilted his head in mock agreement. "Yes, that's exactly what's happening," he said slowly, voice laced with amusement. "Now what?"
The simple question landed like a hammer. The stepbrother stood frozen, mouth half-open, mind scrambling for a response that refused to come. His expression twisted with a mix of anger and helplessness as the silence dragged on, each second making his failure more obvious to everyone watching.
"Take him away, and we shall look into the Chu clan… and Itachi, please avoid causing trouble for your amusement," said a voice from the stage.
At some point, an elder had appeared, his presence calm yet imposing. His expression was tight with a deep frown as he looked over the aftermath of the commotion.
Itachi turned his gaze toward him, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "What, you're not even going to question the fact I might be working with the enemy?" he asked, tone playful and teasing.
The elder met his eyes for a long moment, as if weighing something. But then, without a word, he turned away.
Behind the stepbrother, another elder had materialized silently, placing a firm hand on the stunned disciple's shoulder before vanishing with him in a flash of light.