The Clan Treasury was a fortress within a fortress. Built into the side of a sheer cliff, its doors were made of Black-Iron—a material so dense it could withstand the strike of a 10th Level Body Refiner.
Normally, only those with an "Elder's Token" or a "Contribution Merit" could enter. Han Feng had neither. He had a bloodstained robe and the cold intent of a man who was tired of being told "No."
As he approached the main gate, two guards in silver armor crossed their halberds. These weren't low-level bullies like Han Jun; they were seasoned warriors at the 8th Level of Body Refining.
"Halt, Disciple," the guard on the left commanded. "This is the Treasury. Only those with—"
"I'm here to collect my Inner Disciple reward," Han Feng interrupted. "A weapon and ten Spirit Stones."
The guards shared a look of amusement. "You're Han Feng, aren't you? The one who crippled Han Jun? Word from the Third Elder is that your 'reward' has been forfeited to pay for Jun'er's medical bills. Now, scram before we throw you in the dungeon."
Han Feng didn't slow down. "The Patriarch said I am an Inner Disciple. The Patriarch's word is law. If the Third Elder wants to override the Patriarch, perhaps he should be the one in the dungeon."
"You arrogant brat!" The guard on the right lunged, his halberd whistling through the air with a weight that could split a boulder.
[Perfect Insight: Analyzing Halberd Strike...]
Style: Heavy Mountain Style.
Flaw: High power, zero agility. The pivot point of the shaft is weak.
Han Feng didn't draw a weapon. He stepped into the "Dead Zone" of the strike. With a lightning-fast motion, he struck the wooden shaft of the halberd with the edge of his palm.
SNAP.
The reinforced wood shattered like a dry twig. Before the guard could react, Han Feng's palm continued forward, planting itself firmly against the guard's silver breastplate.
[Heaven-Shattering Collapsing Fist: Second Vibration]
BOOM.
The guard didn't just fall; he was launched backward, his body denting the Black-Iron gate behind him. He slid to the floor, unconscious before he hit the ground.
The second guard froze, his halberd trembling. "You... you're at the 7th Level? Impossible! You were a mortal three days ago!"
"Move," Han Feng said.
The guard scrambled out of the way. He wasn't a hero; he was a salaried employee, and he wasn't about to die for the Third Elder's grudge.
The Black-Iron Gate
Han Feng stood before the massive doors. They were locked with seven mechanical seals and a basic Qi-lock. To open them normally required a key held by the Head Treasurer.
Han Feng placed his hand on the cold metal.
"Chaos Record, scan the mechanism."
[Scanning Mechanism...]
Structure: 7-Stage Interlocking Gears.
Material: Black-Iron Alloy.
Solution: Apply Qi to the third, fifth, and sixth pins simultaneously while rotating the center seal counter-clockwise.
Han Feng closed his eyes. His Chaos Qi flowed out of his fingertips like thin, purple needles. He didn't need a key; he was rewriting the lock from the inside out.
Click. Clack. Thud.
The internal gears groaned and shifted. With a hiss of escaping pressurized air, the "unbreakable" gate of the Han Clan swung open.
Inside the Vault
The air inside was cool and smelled of old parchment and metallic copper. Rows of shelves held jade boxes, weapon racks, and jars of medicinal pills.
Han Feng ignored the gold and the common silver. His eyes were searching for something specific. Most people wanted the "sharpest" sword or the "sturdiest" shield. Han Feng wanted the "Trash."
In the very back of the vault, in a corner covered in spiderwebs, sat a rusted, heavy hunk of metal that looked like a broken cleaver. It was nearly five feet long, wide as a man's thigh, and had no edge. It looked more like a blackened slab of iron than a weapon.
[Perfect Insight: Scanning Anomalous Object...]
Item: The Desolate Heaven Executioner (Fragment).
Grade: ??? (Currently dormant).
Weight: 800 lbs.
Status: Coated in 'Star-Iron Dust' to hide its true nature.
Note: Only someone with the Primordial Chaos Physique can lift this without shattering their spine.
"A heavy sword with no edge," Han Feng whispered, gripping the hilt.
The moment he touched it, the sword felt like a mountain. Even with his 7th Level strength, his feet sank an inch into the stone floor. The sword began to hum, a deep, guttural vibration that resonated with the Chaos Record in his mind.
[Ding!]
Soul-Bound Weapon found.
Current synchronization: 0.01%.
"This will do," Han Feng muttered.
He slung the massive, rusted slab onto his back. He then grabbed a sack and began filling it with high-grade Spirit Stones—not for his own cultivation, but to "feed" the sword.
The Ambush
As Han Feng walked out of the Treasury, he wasn't greeted by the sun. He was greeted by a wall of fire.
"Stealing from the Treasury is a capital offense," a cold, high-pitched voice rang out.
Standing in the courtyard was Elder Feng, the Head of the Treasury and a staunch ally of the Third Elder. Beside him were twenty elite disciples, all armed and ready.
"Han Feng," Elder Feng sneered, his hands glowing with a fiery Qi. "I don't know how you opened that door, but you won't be walking out of this courtyard. Drop the 'scrap metal' and die with some dignity."
Han Feng looked at the twenty disciples, then at the 9th Level Elder. He slowly reached behind his back and gripped the hilt of the rusted slab.
"I didn't come here to steal," Han Feng said, his eyes glowing with a violet hue. "I came here to collect my inheritance. And since you're all here..."
He swung the 800-pound slab off his back, the sheer weight of the movement creating a gust of wind that extinguished the nearby torches.
...I might as well test the new blade."
[Ding!]
New Skill Unlocked: Chaos Strike: World-Weight.
The courtyard went silent. The hunt had officially turned into a slaughter.