I Just Wanted to Teach Cultivation, But Goddesses Keep Coming!

A full minute passed. Only then did Lin Feng move.

“Come.”

His voice was calm, almost casual, as if calling back something that had merely wandered off.

Nothing happened.

The crimson-stained floor remained unchanged.

Some people stiffened, their hearts pounding violently in their chests.

Lin Feng’s expression did not change. He simply spoke again.

“Come.”

Still nothing.

The scattered remains showed no sign of movement, no reaction, no miracle.

A faint ripple of unease spread through the crowd.

For the third time, Lin Feng spoke, his tone carrying just a hint of firmness.

“Come.”

Silence answered him.

This time, it was absolute.

By now, even the most optimistic among them felt a sinking feeling in their stomachs.

Lin Feng stood there for a moment longer before slowly taking a deep breath.

Then, he shook his head lightly, as if acknowledging something unfortunate yet inevitable.

“I suppose…” he said, his voice steady and devoid of emotion, “Young Master Long Aotian belongs to the one percent failure rate under my hands.”

The words landed like a thunderclap in the silent hall.

One percent.

Failure rate.

No one knew how to react.

What kind of person casually spoke of a failure rate when referring to a human life?

What kind of existence treated such a horrifying outcome as nothing more than a statistical inevitability?

“It can’t be helped,” Lin Feng continued, as though discussing a minor inconvenience.

His gaze swept across the stunned crowd.

“In matters of life and death, even I cannot guarantee perfection.”

He paused briefly before adding, almost as an afterthought,

“Can someone clean up the mess on the floor?”

Silence.

Utter silence.

If a needle were to drop at that moment, it would echo like thunder.

Everyone stood frozen, their minds struggling to process what they had just heard.

Fear, disbelief, and awe tangled together in their hearts, leaving them completely speechless.

“Surely you must be joking, Medicine King Lin Feng. There must be a way to bring Young Master Long Aotian back.”

One of the Medicine Kings from the pavilion forced out a stiff laugh, the sound dry and unnatural.

He clasped his hands behind his back to hide the faint tremor in his fingers, as though humor alone could dissolve the oppressive tension suffocating the hall.

But as the seconds stretched on, no one laughed with him.

His smile faltered. His lips twitched.

And when he met Lin Feng’s indifferent gaze, the color drained from his face, replaced by a creeping dread that settled deep in his bones.

“He gambled with his life… and paid the price,” Lin Feng said calmly, his tone neither cold nor warm… merely factual, as if he were stating the most ordinary truth.

“At best, I can only say… he should be resting in peace now.”

The words fell like a final verdict.

Without waiting for a response, Lin Feng shook his head slightly and turned around.

His robes swayed gently with each step as he walked away, unhurried and composed, as though he had not just pronounced the death of a young master from one of the most powerful clans in the Dao Origin City.

Behind him… Silence. A suffocating, deathly silence blanketed the entire pavilion.

No one moved. No one spoke.

Even the sound of breathing seemed to vanish, as if the crowd collectively forgot how to exist.

Then, as if waking from a nightmare, a few people blinked rapidly, rubbing their eyes in disbelief.

Some even leaned forward, squinting at the gruesome sight before them, hoping and praying that what lay on the ground was nothing more than an illusion.

But reality was merciless.

The place where Young Master Long Aotian once stood was now stained crimson.

His body had been utterly destroyed, reduced to a liquified, bloodied mess that barely resembled a human form.

The metallic scent of blood lingered heavily in the air, sharp and inescapable.

A cold shiver ran through the crowd.

“This… this isn’t good!” someone finally whispered, his voice trembling. “The Long Clan… they won’t let this go!”

“That’s not just anyone… that’s Long Aotian! The direct descendant of the Long Clan’s main branch!” another added, panic rising in his tone.

“This is going to spiral into a disaster… a full-blown storm!”

The murmurs quickly spread, growing louder and more chaotic as fear took root in every heart present.

Yet amid the rising panic, a hesitant voice spoke up…

“But… would the Long Clan really dare to touch a Medicine King?”

The question struck like a sudden bolt of clarity.

The noise faltered. Conversations halted mid-sentence.

Everyone froze once more, their expressions shifting as the weight of those words sank in.

That’s right… a Medicine King.

Lin Feng wasn’t just some reckless cultivator or arrogant young genius.

He stood at the pinnacle of the healing path… a figure revered, sought after, and protected by countless forces.

Over the years, who knew how many powerful experts owed their lives to him?

How many clans, sects, and hidden elders had received his grace?

The favors a Medicine King accumulated were not something that could be measured.

They formed an invisible yet unbreakable network and a shield far more terrifying than any single faction’s strength.

To move against Lin Feng…

…was to risk provoking not just one man, but an entire web of hidden power.

Even the mighty Long Clan would have to think twice. No… think a hundred times.

Still, the unease did not fade.

Because everyone present understood one thing clearly…

The Long Clan was not known for restraint.

Their pride ran deep, and their bloodline was their dignity.

The death of Long Aotian was not just a loss and it was a slap across their face, a humiliation that could not easily be ignored.

“What if… they decide to make an example out of him?” someone muttered, swallowing hard.

“Or worse… what if they don’t care about the consequences?”

At that thought, a chill spread through the crowd once more.

Far ahead, Lin Feng’s figure grew smaller and smaller, his steps steady, his back straight, as though the storm everyone feared… had nothing to do with him at all.