Chapter Fourteen: Humiliation

As soon as the words faded, an imposing aura surged around Han Bingyao, swirling like a miniature tornado that swept up a ring of dust and pressed down on Han Bingyan with overwhelming force.

“Earth Realm, First Level!” Han Bingran exclaimed in astonishment from the audience. Many others recognized it as well, and the crowd erupted. A twelve-year-old at Earth Realm First Level—so Han Bingyao’s strength was formidable too. With such skill, she could certainly stand alongside Han Bingran as one of the rare prodigies of the Han family in a hundred years.

Clearly, Han Liang was equally taken aback, but after his surprise, he began to nod approvingly. It seemed that in this new generation, the Han family had produced yet another remarkable talent. The river’s waves push forward; the young outshine the old—how admirable the youth were!

In contrast to Han Liang’s satisfaction, Han Bingran’s heart sank to the bottom. It wasn’t fear that her cousin would steal her thunder, but rather worry for her brother, Han Bingyan. His chances of victory were now minuscule—so small as to be negligible.

“So strong!” Han Bingyan was left breathless under the pressure, deeply shaken. This was the first time he’d truly experienced the oppressive force of a powerful opponent.

Such power was not unfamiliar to him; his own younger sister possessed it. Yet Han Bingran had never unleashed her full strength before. Now, he realized that in the face of someone like this, he was incapable of mounting any effective resistance.

Just the aura alone had already rendered Han Bingyan powerless.

In the audience, Han Bingruo covered her face with her hand. “Bingyan, your chances look grim this time…”

In an instant, like thunder and lightning, Han Bingyan felt himself lifted off the ground. The scenery blurred beneath him, small and distant, yet painfully real. When the pain finally brought him back to his senses, he realized he had already fallen outside the arena. Was that it? Had he lost just like that? He had no complaints—the outcome was decided by strength.

Han Bingran hurried over and helped him to his feet.

“I told you, I wouldn’t hold back.” From afar, Han Bingyao’s voice rang out, clear and cold.

“Yes, you did.” Facing his cousin, Han Bingyao, Han Bingyan could only manage a slight smile. He didn’t resent her; from her perspective, she had done nothing wrong.

“Han Bingyao wins!” The announcement sounded distant. At this moment, Han Bingyan was surprised at how calm he felt, as if the declaration from Han Liang had nothing to do with him.

“Two forfeits, two defeats… four matches already gone.”

“Brother, you—” Seeing Han Bingyan still able to smile, Han Bingran couldn’t help but worry, thinking he might break under the blow and abandon himself to despair.

“No, I’m fine,” Han Bingyan interrupted her, giving her a reassuring smile. “Maybe I don’t need to take it all so seriously.”

“Really?” Han Bingran blinked in confusion, but since her brother said so, it must truly be all right. The little girl soon cheered up again.

The next match, Han Bingwu was to choose his opponent, and once more, it was Han Bingyan! Han Bingyan versus Han Bingwu—the two who had always had the worst relationship were now to face each other.

“Han Bingyan—” As soon as he stepped onto the stage, Han Bingwu let out a sinister chuckle, his twisted smile making Han Bingyan feel nothing but disgust. The sound of tightly clenched fists echoed sharply—an obvious provocation.

“I’ll give you a good lesson in a moment.”

“Begin!” Han Liang’s voice was cold and stern.

“Hah!” As soon as Han Liang announced the start, Han Bingwu shouted, and Han Bingyan felt as if a boulder pressed down on his chest. Sweat beaded on his brow. “This is—?”

“Human Realm, Second Grade!” Han Bingwu boasted with obvious pride.

“Second Grade, is it?” Han Bingyan muttered inwardly. Just two years ago, Han Bingwu had only been Third Grade. In such a short time, he’d reached Second Grade. Han Bingyan had to admit he was a little envious. “If just a Second Grade can exert such pressure, then Cousin Bingyao really did go easy on me,” Han Bingyan thought dazedly. But this time, he was mistaken. Though Han Bingyao’s pressure was only slightly stronger than Han Bingwu’s, it wasn’t that she had held back—rather, her energy was already refined and restrained at the Earth Realm, able to be controlled at will.

It’s not about how much force, but how pure.

“Well, are you scared?” Seeing Han Bingyan’s shifting expression, Han Bingwu gloated, eyes slanting with contempt. “Tsk tsk… How pitiful you are! Why not just kneel and beg for mercy? For the sake of our family, I might let you off!”

“In your dreams!” Han Bingyan glared at the figure before him, his face pale, rage boiling inside him, fists clenched tight.

“Dream or not, you’re not my match. Hahaha…” Han Bingwu sneered.

Once more, a powerful aura swept from Han Bingwu, forcing sweat to stream down Han Bingyan’s face. He found himself unable to move. “Why! Why!” he screamed inwardly, fighting to endure. He could not fall, could not lose—he would rather die than be defeated.

Blood spurted from his lips, and Han Bingyan collapsed under the weight of that overwhelming force.

Fury raged inside him. He could endure the pressure, and he could endure the pain of internal injury, but he could not endure being looked down on. Never before had he so desperately craved strength. He must hold on. He must not lose—never!

Even as blood dripped from his mouth, Han Bingyan’s fists remained clenched, his heart roaring with defiance.

“Brother, give up!” Han Bingran cried, her voice trembling with tears. But Han Bingyan would not—could not—yield.

“Ha ha ha…” Seeing Han Bingyan so wretched, Han Bingwu burst into laughter, spitting contemptuously at the edge of the arena. “What a useless wretch!”

“I’m… not… useless!” Han Bingyan forced out the words through gritted teeth.

“Oh, really? Then who’s the one lying on the ground, unable to get up?” Han Bingwu mocked, laughing wildly. He delighted in seeing Han Bingyan bullied, especially when he was the one doing it—it gave him a perverse sense of accomplishment. The more he saw that twisted, angry face, the more excited he became.

But suddenly, his laughter ceased. Han Bingwu saw those pitch-black eyes, and the joy he once felt vanished. For the first time, he saw something different in them—a burning hatred that made him uneasy.

Han Liang’s view was blocked by Han Bingwu, so she didn’t see Han Bingyan’s eyes. Still, her brow was furrowed. She was thoroughly dissatisfied with Han Bingwu’s conduct. A martial artist should be proud, but not arrogant; such conceit and disdain were grave flaws for anyone who pursued martial arts. She knew Han Bingyan had no chance of victory left, so it was best to end the match.

“The outcome is clear. Han Bingwu wins!”

Han Bingwu reveled in his triumph, even mimicking a few signature poses of popular celebrities. “Who does he think he is, some kind of star?” Han Bingran muttered petulantly, pouting.

“Bingyan, are you all right?” Han Bingruo leapt onto the stage, helping Han Bingyan down with concern.

“I’m fine, just a little hurt… cough, cough…”

“Brother, don’t talk. Rest a bit,” Han Bingran urged gently.

Looking at the two who cared for him, a warm current flowed through Han Bingyan’s heart, and somehow the pain in his body eased.

From a distance, he could still sense the scornful gazes, but compared to the warmth beside him, they seemed to fade away…

It is always when we turn away that we realize the dream has drifted far, swept away with the tide of the crowd. Familiarity remains, yet across a vast distance. You and I, mere wayfarers in passing, the flutter in our hearts already lost to the dusk of the world. When the dream ends, we see that the fleeting emotion was only a regret, rolling endlessly through our veins. Only now do I understand—love has gone, the dream, too, vanished with the wind. You are you, I am me; always destined to be strangers, leaving behind only a trace of ridicule—Han Bingwu, and all the people of the Han family…