“Sigh…” Uncle Grant let out a silent sigh—there was truly nothing he could do.

“Heh!” A servant nearby couldn’t help but sneer, “Hey, Old Grant, do you regret following the wrong person? With a young master as useless as yours, what hope do you servants have for the future?”

Uncle Grant couldn’t be bothered to respond, his face dark and silent.

But that guy kept chattering on: “I’ve seen people with poor talent before, but someone as hopeless as Andrew Carter? That’s a first! Truly a rare specimen through the ages.”

“Even if we take a step back, our The Carter Family is wealthy and influential. Even if your talent is lacking, you could still become a martial artist by piling on spiritual medicine.

But Andrew Carter is just a coward, completely lacking in responsibility. Someone like that wants to inherit Third Master’s estate? Ha, I don’t think so.

Third Master’s family has two children—the eldest is a useless coward, the second is a sickly weakling. You really have nothing to hope for…”

Uncle Grant was livid, his face ashen, but he simply couldn’t refute it.

From the avenue in front of the gate came the sound of hoofbeats. Uncle Grant’s expression changed—Victor Carter had really arrived!

…

Andrew Carter slowly woke up to find himself lying in bed.

He was a little dazed. Last night, he’d clearly fainted in Soul-Calming Mountain—how had he ended up back at the manor?

Looking out the window, Soul-Calming Mountain still towered in the distance—could it all have been a dream?

He suddenly sat up, circulating the vital energy within his body, which surged forth like a rushing river.

“The power of four meridians!” The advancement in his level was real, proving that last night wasn’t a dream! Andrew Carter was excited, but before he could examine himself further, he heard a burst of urgent shouting and cursing from outside.

“Andrew Carter! You coward, you’ve got the nerve to come back! News of you running away to avoid the year-end exam has spread throughout the ancestral land. You’ve completely disgraced our Anhuai Sun clan!”

A richly dressed youth, followed by several attendants, kicked the door open and stormed in aggressively.

Uncle Grant pleaded bitterly at the side, “Young Victor, please, I beg you, show some mercy…”

“Smack!” A slap sent the elderly Uncle Grant sprawling to the side.

Victor Carter cursed viciously, “Get lost! What are you? In front of me, a lowly person like you has no right to speak!”

Uncle Grant didn’t dare resist. He turned over and knelt on the ground, “Young Victor, please, I beg you, this old man will kowtow to you, just spare our young master…”

Victor Carter kicked Uncle Grant aside and strode up to Andrew Carter, his finger nearly poking Andrew Carter’s nose. “You useless trash! You’ve been in the ancestral land for half a year and only reached the power of three meridians.

Third Uncle pulled strings to get you into the ancestral land, but you were never qualified! But trash is trash—so what if you got in? Aren’t you still at the bottom of the rankings?”

Rage burned in Andrew Carter’s heart—his fury seemed to trigger something, and a flash of black flame flickered in his pupils. Unknowingly, he entered a special state.

The finger Victor Carter was pointing at his nose suddenly seemed enormous in his eyes. Every movement, every syllable from Victor Carter became slow and drawn out.

He seemed to grasp some kind of “key.” Thoughts raced through his mind like lightning. Though he’d never been sensitive to martial arts before, in an instant he summoned dozens of possible responses, then chose the most appropriate one.

Though it seemed slow, it was actually incredibly fast.

Andrew Carter “lightly” flicked out his finger.

This move had a natural, effortless feel to it. In fact, it was a basic technique from the Anhuai Sun clan’s family martial art, “Eighteen Dispersed Hands”—specifically, the move called “Reverse Lute.”

A very, very ordinary move, with average power. The Eighteen Dispersed Hands was an introductory martial art for the Sun clan’s children, extremely low-level, not even ranked among the nine-meridian techniques.

Precisely because of this, when Victor Carter saw Andrew Carter use this move, he laughed: “You idiot! You couldn’t learn any of the advanced martial arts in the ancestral land, and you’re still using this worthless trash technique.”

He was confident he had at least three ways to dodge this finger.

But what happened next left him dumbfounded, because although he did dodge, he found that no matter how he tried, he simply couldn’t avoid that finger!

How could this be?!

He thought to himself: So what if that useless coward accidentally pulled off this move? He’s only at the three-meridian level—even if he hits me, it won’t do any harm.

He sneered, and jabbed his finger hard at Andrew Carter, intending to poke a bloody hole in him!

Meanwhile, Victor Carter’s lackeys could see the two were really fighting.

Andrew Carter’s move was utterly unimpressive—the lowest-level Eighteen Dispersed Hands, worthy only of contempt.

“Young Victor, cripple that piece of trash!”

“With this coward gone, our family won’t have to be so embarrassed anymore…”

And the servants in the manor seized this rare chance to curry favor with Victor Carter, all cheering him on and viciously mocking Andrew Carter with their words.