10,000x Cultivation: I Gain Power by Adopting Training Acolytes

Over the next few days, Zhang Yun focused on refining Xu Ming's combat techniques. After two days of individual training, he incorporated Wu Xiaopang—now wielding Tyrant's Quintessence—into their drills. Soon, the day of the intersect exchange arrived.

At dawn, Zhang Yun led his two disciples to the gathering point outside the Spirit Immortal Sect's gates. Several elders and disciples had already assembled, including Meng Zhong and the bandage-swathed Mu Sheng.

"Oh?" Meng Zhong's eyebrow twitched as he noticed Wu Xiaopang. "Since when did the Ninth Elder acquire a second disciple?"

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Though envious of Zhang Yun's prodigious first disciple, none had expected him to recruit another—especially not this rotund youth.

"Ninth Elder actually took in that castoff?" Mu Sheng's mocking voice cut through the whispers. He gestured theatrically at Wu Xiaopang. "What's next? Adopting stray dogs?"

The barb drew snickers until Zhang Yun's icy gaze silenced them. "Still nursing that broken hand, I see."

Mu Sheng instinctively hid his bandaged right arm, face flushing crimson.

Ignoring the theatrics, Xu Ming approached a group of senior disciples. "Greetings, fellow disciples. I'm Xu Ming from Ninth Peak, and this is my junior brother Wu Xiaopang."

Polite nods answered them until a black-robed youth shouldered forward. "So you're the genius wasting his talent under that washed-up elder?" Jin Nan, Meng Zhong's disciple, sneered. "Do everyone a favor—crawl back to your cave before you embarrass the sect."

Xu Ming's fists clenched. "Repeat that."

"Or what?" Jin Nan smirked, deliberately loud. "Your master's a—"

**CRACK!**​

Xu Ming's fist met Jin Nan's jaw before the insult concluded. The senior disciple flew backward, skidding across gravel. Gasps erupted as golden draconic energy swirled around Xu Ming's arm.

"Qi Refining Stage Nine?!"

The revelation detonated like spiritual dynamite. Meng Zhong's teacup shattered as he surged to his feet. "Cease this!"

Zhang Yun materialized before him. "Elder Meng forgets his own wisdom? 'Minor disciple spats are natural.'"

Chaos erupted as Jin Nan, face bloodied, drew a dagger. "I'll end you!"

**WHOOSH!**​

Xu Ming's counterblow carried the roar of an angered dragon. Ribs snapped like dry twigs as Jin Nan arced through the air—a broken puppet saved from pavement impact only by Meng Zhong's frantic catch.

"Y-YOU LITTLE—!"

"Enough!" The Grand Elder's voice quaked the plaza. "We convene for unity, not petty squabbles!"

Zhang Yun turned to his seething disciple. "Xu Ming, reflect on your error."

The youth hung his head. "This disciple acted rashly."

"Rash?" Zhang Yun's snort silenced the crowd. "Your mistake was showing mercy! Next time someone draws steel..." He locked eyes with the trembling Jin Nan. "...ensure they never hold a sword again."

The Grand Elder's eye twitched. Even by Zhang Yun's standards, this was brazen.

Murmurs swirled as disciples reassessed the Ninth Peak's disciples. Xu Ming's draconic aura and meteoric rise hinted at terrifying potential. Whispers of "dark horse" and "championship contender" began circulating.

Meng Zhong cradled his unconscious disciple, face purpling with impotent rage. His plot to discredit Zhang Yun had backfired spectacularly—instead of exposing a weak disciple, he'd showcased a dragon in human form.

As the sect's procession moved out toward Southern Wind Forest, Zhang Yun's voice carried clearly to his rivals: "Do keep your puppies leashed, Elder Meng. My disciples... hunger for challenges."