"Someone who could actually become friends with Yvette Locke?"
Hearing Miss Stitch’s words, the group looked utterly incredulous.
"Are you sure you’re not mistaken about something?"
Trent Locke frowned slightly, glancing at Miss Stitch lying on the ground.
"No mistake. That day, Miss Yvette Locke personally ordered me to escort that person up the mountain. I figured I’d make things tough for him, so instead of putting him in the guest rooms, I placed him among the wooden cabins. I never expected he’d actually survive the three-day prelim!"
Talking about this, Miss Stitch still looked thoroughly frustrated.
"Survived it? Does that mean he already has Vajra-realm strength?"
Hearing Miss Stitch’s words, Rena Locke was momentarily stunned.
"Anyone who dared come to our Locke Family this time is at least Vajra-realm. If you don’t have that kind of ability and still dream of snatching our Deep-Frost Iceflame, you’ll just make a laughingstock of yourself!"
Trent Locke let out a mocking laugh.
Right now, only the Locke Family head has reached the Finger-Mystery realm, but unlike the outside world, most Locke juniors focus on secluded cultivation and rarely appear in public, aside from external business.
There are countless inner and outer Locke members. This time, all those chosen for the Dao-Trial Gathering are the elite fourth-generation juniors, all under thirty, with cultivation from Pseudo-Vajra to fourth-grade Vajra.
"No matter his cultivation realm, attacking a Locke clansman inside the Locke Family is breaking the rules!"
Trent Locke’s tone grew stern: "Lead the way! I want to see who dares act so brazenly!"
Trent’s voice was loud, prompting several people behind him to chime in.
Clark Locke, Gavin Locke, and Rena Locke weren’t all that interested, but since the one who got beaten was Mason Locke—a fellow Locke—they tagged along for appearances’ sake.
Miss Stitch hoisted the unconscious Mason Locke onto her shoulder.
The group of twenty-one marched forward in grand fashion along the road.
Trent Locke led at the very front of the crowd.
As the clan head’s grandson, Trent held high standing in the Locke Family. With spiritual medicine aiding him since childhood, he was now at fourth-grade Vajra peak, just a step away from breaking into third-grade.
At his age, that kind of talent is actually pretty impressive.
And if he manages to snag the Deep-Frost Iceflame this time, Trent Locke is basically guaranteed to become the next young master of the Locke Family—power and influence through the roof.
The group walked for about ten minutes before finally arriving at the Dao-Trial Gathering plaza—a testament to just how hard Evan Lin’s kick had sent Mason flying.
On one side of the plaza loomed a sheer cliff, smooth as if carved by a blade, towering and imposing.
Standing where they had before were fifty outsiders.
Trent Locke glanced at the nearby high platform.
It was empty, just a few chairs with nobody sitting in them.
"The clan elders aren’t here yet. Let’s go check things out over there first."
Trent Locke licked his lips, his expression dark and brooding.
He strode over in big steps, heading that way.
"Locke Family’s people are here."
"Doesn’t look friendly."
"Is Mason already knocked out?"
Seeing Trent Locke and his crew heading over—especially spotting Mason slung over Miss Stitch’s shoulder—the outsiders all shot subtle glances toward Evan Lin.
"Whoever messed with a Locke on Locke turf is seriously asking for it. That’s just nuts."
"Doesn’t even know how high the sky is, huh? Now the clan’s coming for payback—let’s see how you get out of this one!"
Plenty of people noticed how Evan Lin kept his cool, and couldn’t help but watch with a hint of amusement.
"That guy’s Trent Locke, fourth-grade Vajra. Plus he’s got a dozen Locke experts behind him, all Vajra realm. So, want to make a deal? Hand over your magic artifact and I’ll keep you safe."
The short man—five-foot-five—sidled up again, eyeing Evan Lin and trying to coax him.
"Scram."
Evan Lin’s single word, delivered coolly, made the man’s face twist. He gritted his teeth: "You’d better remember what you said. That’s twice now you’ve told me to scram!"
He clenched his fists and melted back into the crowd.
"Who just threw that punch?"
Up front, Trent Locke stood there, eyes sharp as knives, barking out a command.
His gaze swept over the crowd, every glance brimming with intimidation.
"That kid!"
Someone shouted, and the crowd quickly parted to make way.
Trent Locke and his crew looked over, spotting the backpack-carrying youth standing a little behind the others.
At first glance, he looked clean-cut and calm, especially facing down more than twenty Locke clan members—his unruffled composure genuinely surprised Trent.
"It’s you!"
Before Trent could speak, Gavin Locke hesitated, surprised.
"You know him?"
Gavin’s question caught Trent and the others off guard.
He turned and noticed Clark Locke and Rena Locke also glancing over, curiosity written on their faces.
When they saw the youth standing there, their expressions grew a little strange.
"Last time at Changbai Mountain, he was hanging out with my classmate."
Rena Locke stepped forward, her eyes fixed on Evan Lin as she sized him up. "Why are you here?"
Back at Changbai Mountain, Evan Lin had made Gavin and Clark lose a lot of face. Gavin had even had his eye on Queenie Tong, but Evan’s appearance ruined everything.
Now, seeing Evan Lin here, Rena Locke stared for a good while before snapping out of it.
"Do I need your permission to show up wherever I want?"
Evan Lin’s tone was flat.
That attitude seriously ticked off Rena Locke.
"Oh, really? Last time I let you off because of the mission, but now I’m in a bad mood—and look at that, you just walked right into my hands!"
Gavin Locke cracked his knuckles, shoved aside a few people blocking his way, and walked toward Evan Lin with a sinister grin.
Clark Locke stood off to the side, making no move to intervene.
"If you’ve got beef with him, go for it."
Trent Locke was happy to sit back and watch; plenty of others were ready for some drama.
As Gavin Locke strode forward, a few people in the distance started walking this way.
"Stop right there!"
A stern shout rang out.
A middle-aged man pushed through the crowd, heading straight for them.
"Second Uncle?"
Seeing the newcomer, Gavin Locke paused. "That guy hit one of ours. I’m going to teach him a lesson!"
"Today’s the Dao-Trial Gathering. The clan head and elders are already here—don’t get reckless! If you’ve got personal grudges, settle them in private!"
The middle-aged man’s voice was heavy and commanding. Gavin Locke had no choice but to back off, glaring at Evan Lin: "Lucky break, kid! When this is over, if you survive, don’t even think about running!"
Gavin Locke ground his teeth.
Trent Locke and the others gave Evan Lin a deep look before turning and leaving.
"What a shame."
"This guy’s luck is off the charts."
The others looked at Evan Lin, many of them clearly annoyed.
After the middle-aged man finished speaking, he left without another word.
Evan Lin sensed something and looked up at the high platform.
Where it had been empty before, now three people sat on the platform.
One was elderly, with white hair. Though his frame looked thin, his presence was hard to pin down—clearly a Locke powerhouse.
To his left sat a middle-aged woman, brow furrowed. On his right, Yvette Locke in a pink dress lay forward, cheeks in her hands, watching the scene.
When she saw Evan Lin looking her way, she perked up and happily waved in his direction.