The Cangxuan Sect's martial arts performance ground was filled with dust. Fifteen-year-old Lin Feng huddled on the bluestone floor. The severe pain in his chest made his eyes go black. The tip of the stick made of dark iron passed across the tip of his nose, and the strong wind brought up lifted the messy hair on his forehead, revealing his eyes filled with stubbornness and humiliation.
"How can a waste that can't even reach the third level of the Qi Entraining Realm be worthy of staying in the inner gate?" Zhao Hu's ferocious smile was like a poisoned needle, piercing Lin Feng's heart. The black iron rod in his hand was raised again, and there were bursts of laughter all around - the disciples who started with him three years ago now had undisguised contempt on their faces.
