## Chapter Thirty-One: The Unveiling Blade
The final year of Yan Zhen's supposed misery unfolded with a quiet, dangerous intensity. He was now **twenty-one years old**, his outward appearance still that of a perpetually weary and volatile disciple, but inwardly, he was a coiled spring of formidable power. Under **Elder Xuan's** ruthless guidance, he had fully embraced the chaotic nature of his qi, molding it into a unique and terrifyingly effective weapon. His cultivation, secretly at **Foundation Establishment, Stage 3**, was robust, capable of unleashing raw, untamed force that defied conventional understanding. Yet, he continued to perform his menial tasks, enduring Ling Xia's increasingly pointed barbs with a practiced, sullen obedience that masked his burgeoning strength.
Ling Xia, also **twenty-one**, continued her relentless campaign to make Yan Zhen's life miserable and to sever any remaining ties he had to Lin Feng. Her orders for his grueling duties became more frequent, her public disdain more pronounced. She relished in seeing him isolated, believing that by systematically dismantling his spirit, she solidified her own, unchallenged position beside Lin Feng. She remained blissfully unaware of the deeper game being played, a game where her supposed success was merely another piece in Lin Feng's intricate puzzle.
For Lin Feng, **twenty-one years old** and outwardly **Foundation Establishment, Stage 5** while secretly **Golden Core, Stage 1**, these months were a delicate dance of manipulation. He maintained the facade of being constrained by his Core Disciple duties and Ling Xia's possessiveness, but he found opportunities to subtly check in on Yan Zhen. These were not chance encounters, but meticulously planned 'secret' meetings, often initiated by Lin Feng under the guise of "sneaking away from Ling Xia" or "just checking on an old friend." He would find Yan Zhen in secluded corners of the sect, offering a rare, knowing smile and a few words of false camaraderie.
Yan Zhen, for his part, clung to these clandestine meetings like a lifeline. Each time Lin Feng appeared, a surge of desperate hope flared within him, reinforcing his belief that Lin Feng truly cared, that he was genuinely trying to bypass Ling Xia's insidious influence. "You still come," Yan Zhen would say, a raw vulnerability in his voice. "Even when Ling Xia tries to keep you away." Lin Feng would nod gravely, a carefully practiced sorrow clouding his features. "She worries, Zhen. My new duties... they are demanding, and her possessiveness can be... challenging. But I never forget my true friends." This subtle performance, crafted with chilling precision, strengthened Yan Zhen's conviction that Ling Xia was the true barrier, and Lin Feng was a victim of her machinations, just as he was.
During one such meeting, held under the cloak of late dusk near the sect's forgotten eastern training grounds, Yan Zhen decided to share his groundbreaking news. His face, still bearing the marks of hardship, now held a new, quiet pride. "Brother Lin Feng," he began, his voice low, "I... I think I've cured it. My qi control problem. It's stable now." He didn't elaborate, carefully omitting any mention of Elder Xuan or the unconventional methods, as Elder Xuan had strictly warned him against revealing his teacher or his true cultivation process.
Lin Feng's reaction was a masterclass in feigned joy. His eyes widened, a genuine-sounding gasp escaped his lips. "Zhen! Is this true? My old friend, this is incredible news! I... I had hoped, but after all these years... this is truly a miracle! How did you do it?" He grasped Yan Zhen's shoulders, his smile radiant, his voice brimming with overwhelming happiness. Internally, a cold satisfaction spread through Lin Feng. *Excellent. The ancient soul has finally reached a stable, usable state. He thinks he cured it himself? Even better. This aligns perfectly with the next phase of my plans.*
"It was... unconventional," Yan Zhen replied, carefully. "A new method, born of desperation. But it works."
"This calls for a celebration!" Lin Feng declared, his excitement seemingly boundless. "You must allow me! Tonight, we go to the sect cafeteria! I'll pay, of course. A proper toast, just the two of us, like old times!"
Yan Zhen, starved for genuine camaraderie and validation, felt a warmth spread through him that he hadn't experienced in years. A true celebration with Lin Feng, something Ling Xia could not prevent. "Yes!" he agreed, a rare, genuine smile gracing his lips. "That sounds wonderful."
Later that evening, the sect cafeteria buzzed with the usual din of disciples finishing their evening meals. Yan Zhen, dressed in his still-worn, simple Outer Disciple robes, sat opposite Lin Feng at a small table, a steaming platter of spiritual delicacies and a jug of fine spirit wine between them. Lin Feng was laughing, telling an anecdote from his recent Core Disciple mission, while Yan Zhen, relaxed for the first time in years, listened with a rare, genuine contentment. Lin Feng had just poured them each a cup of wine, raising his own. "To your triumph, Zhen! To finally mastering your unique qi!"
Just as their cups were about to clink, a sudden, sharp voice cut through the clamor of the cafeteria, chilling the air. "Lin Feng!"
Ling Xia stood imperiously at the entrance, her exquisite Core Disciple robes shimmering, her face a mask of furious displeasure. Her eyes, sharp and cold, immediately locked onto Yan Zhen, then flicked to the wine on the table. "What are you doing here? And with *him*?" Her tone was disdainful, laced with a familiar, cutting authority. "The Sect Leader requires your presence immediately. There are urgent matters concerning the Grand Elder's expedition. Come." She didn't ask; she commanded.
Lin Feng's radiant smile vanished, replaced by a look of carefully orchestrated uneasiness. He slowly lowered his cup, a subtle frown creasing his brow. He glanced at Yan Zhen, a flicker of genuine regret in his eyes, a clear sign to Yan Zhen that he truly didn't want to leave. "Ling Xia, couldn't this wait? Yan Zhen and I were just... I wanted to celebrate his breakthrough. It's been so long." His voice conveyed a forced reluctance, an unwilling submission to her demand.
Yan Zhen watched Lin Feng's performance, his heart clenching with a familiar fury. He saw Lin Feng's forced reluctance, his discomfort at being torn away. It was Ling Xia again, always Ling Xia, driving a wedge between him and his only friend, denying Lin Feng even this small moment of happiness. The cumulative rage of years of torment, all attributed to Ling Xia's schemes, erupted.
He slammed his cup down, the spiritual wine sloshing over the table. The sudden noise silenced the nearby disciples, their gazes snapping towards their table. Yan Zhen rose to his feet, his worn robes making him seem small, yet the intensity in his eyes was anything but. His chaotic qi, now harnessed and controlled, pulsed faintly around him, an invisible threat.
"No!" Yan Zhen's voice, usually gruff, resonated with a raw, undeniable power that surprised even Lin Feng. "She will not take you again, Lin Feng!" He turned his furious gaze directly on Ling Xia, his eyes burning. "Ling Xia! You have made my life a misery for years, always keeping Lin Feng away! Enough!"
A gasp rippled through the cafeteria. No one dared challenge a Core Disciple, especially the Sect Leader's daughter, in such a manner.
Ling Xia scoffed, her eyes blazing with disbelief and contempt. "You? Challenge *me*? A pathetic, unstable brute like you, still stuck in the Spirit Condensation stage? Don't make me laugh!"
Yan Zhen ignored her mockery. His voice, fueled by years of pent-up rage and newfound confidence, was clear and unyielding. "I challenge you, Ling Xia! To a duel! Right here, right now, in the sect's main training arena!" He pointed a trembling, yet resolute finger at her. "And the stakes will be high. If I win, you must swear before the entire sect to stay away from Lin Feng, and from me, forever! You will never interfere with our friendship again!"
A hush fell over the cafeteria, the tension almost suffocating. Such a bold challenge, with such stakes, was unprecedented.
Ling Xia's face contorted in a mix of shock and utter fury. "And if you lose, you arrogant fool?"
Yan Zhen met her gaze, his expression grim, but unwavering. "If I lose," he declared, his voice ringing with a chilling resolve, "I will leave the sect. Forever. I will never step foot within its gates again."
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