"Henry Brooks, what are you being so aggressive for?" George Hughes said mockingly, "Yelling at me—do you still think you're that high-spirited genius cousin from back then? Give it a rest. Now you're just a cripple in a wheelchair. Your whole family—old, disabled, can't even afford a servant. Even your last acre of spirit field is about to go to waste. I think you'd be better off exchanging that acre with my family. That way, you can pay off your debt and even get a nice extra sum."

"Xiaoyong, how can you talk like that? Back when your uncle was alive, he took good care of you and your cousins," Linda Hughes said weakly in a low voice. "Once the spirit field yields a harvest, I—I’ll pay you back right away."

"Auntie, I'm not one to gossip, but marrying into the The Brooks Family was just ruining yourself," George Hughes sneered arrogantly. "Anyway, you're a slut. Why not just remarry as soon as possible? Save yourself the trouble of looking after two cripples and a bratty girl all by yourself."

Hearing this, Mark Brooks felt his blood boil, his face flushing red as he stormed inside in a flash.

At the same time, eldest brother Henry Brooks roared in anger, "You beast! How can you say such things?"

George Hughes, strong and robust, already at the mid-stage of Spirit Disciple cultivation, would never take a wheelchair-bound person seriously. Instead, he burst out laughing, "The genius cousin is angry, ha! I'm so scared. Please don't hit me, oh, please don't hit me!"

With a prankish kick at the wheelchair, he sent Henry Brooks, chair and all, sliding backward.

Just several yards away was a small pond in the courtyard.

Linda Hughes rushed over, her face pale, but George Hughes grabbed her and held her back. As Henry Brooks was about to fall into the pond, a flash of blue darted over, leaving a faint afterimage.

Before landing, Mark Brooks slowed his momentum, hovering briefly in midair. He grabbed the wheelchair, stopping it just in time, his blue robe fluttering as he narrowly caught Henry Brooks.

"Second brother!" Henry Brooks called out in surprise, his face pale but delighted.

"So it was you," George Hughes paused, then said contemptuously, "Mark Brooks, turns out the family loser has come home." As he spoke, he lunged forward, deliberately staggering as he tried to bump into Mark Brooks.

"Careful, second brother," Henry Brooks warned in a low, steady voice.

Mark Brooks's face was calm as water as he stepped forward, his whole body suddenly erupting with a powerful, diamond-like aura.

The clear, ethereal air of youth instantly transformed into the imposing presence of a mighty, awe-inspiring Vajra demon-subduer. His right arm swelled with strength, and he unleashed a fierce punch.

George Hughes never expected the always-useless Mark Brooks to suddenly explode with such terrifying force. In a panic, he used the move "Immovable as a Mountain"!

When a master uses "Immovable as a Mountain," their body is covered in earth-elemental energy as solid as rock. No matter how fierce the attack, they stand tall and unshakable like a mountain.

But in Mark Brooks's eyes, this move was all show and no substance—not even at the entry level.

With a single punch, Mark Brooks broke through George Hughes's "Immovable as a Mountain." With a boom, blue and yellow energies burst out in all directions. The hastily formed defense shattered instantly, and George Hughes staggered back a step, unsteady on his feet.

Before he could regain his footing, Mark Brooks closed in half a step, his body flickering, foot stomping down. The flagstone ground shook violently from the impact, stones cracking and flying, the whole place trembling.

Without pause, he unleashed the "Vajra Shakes Might" move. Before George Hughes could react, he felt as if a raging demon bull had slammed into his chest—utterly unstoppable. He was sent flying over ten feet, crashing hard into the wall, then falling to the ground and spitting out a mouthful of blood.

After just two moves, Mark Brooks stood calmly with his hands behind his back, his blue robe fluttering in the wind, exuding a faint, ethereal air of youth. There was no trace of the fierce, wrathful Vajra from moments before.

In stark contrast, George Hughes was kneeling on the ground, coughing up blood in a wretched state. His face was deathly pale, and he stared at Mark Brooks in utter shock and terror.

"Aunt, how much do we owe the The Hughes Family?" Mark Brooks asked, his voice as calm as water.

"Mo'er," Linda Hughes said, both surprised and delighted, then added with a hint of shame, "With interest, it's a total of three hundred taels of gold." She blushed as she spoke. Back when her husband was alive, she had helped her family countless times—probably ten, even dozens of three hundred tael sums in total.

But now, her own family had come to their door, arrogant and overbearing, to humiliate her over this three hundred tael debt, even scheming to seize their spirit field.

Although George Hughes was her younger relative, he was still her own kin, and it was her face that was being disgraced.

Mark Brooks said coldly, "I was going to beat you to death, but for someone like you, even killing you would dirty my hands. Remember, bring the IOU to collect the debt in half a month. I guarantee you won't be short a single coin. You have ten seconds to get out, or else..."

Before Mark Brooks could finish, the once-arrogant George Hughes, now beaten and terrified, stumbled and fled the courtyard in utter disgrace. As he left, he still shouted, "Just you wait, Mark Brooks, I'll remember this! If you can't pay up in half a month, be ready to hand over the spirit field!"

After that, he didn't dare look at Mark Brooks again and ran off as fast as he could.