MY HIDDEN TALENT IS FORBIDDEN BY THE HEAVENS-Chapter 74: LOWLY WORM

Chapter 74 — THE WORM THEY FAILED TO CRUSH

The Murong ancestral hall was never silent.

Ancient spirit lamps flickered along the obsidian walls, casting long shadows over carved pillars etched with the history of the Murong clan. Every step taken within this place carried weight. Every word spoken echoed far longer than it should have.

Tonight, the air was heavy.

And filled with rage.

The Grand Elder slammed his palm against the stone table.

BOOM.

Cracks spiderwebbed outward, spirit runes flaring briefly before stabilizing.

"USELESS!" he roared. "ABSOLUTELY USELESS!"

Around the circular table, the Murong elders sat rigidly. Their expressions ranged from fury to irritation, to thinly veiled unease.

"A full eradication squad," the Grand Elder continued, voice dripping with contempt. "Guild professionals. Clean instructions. Perfect timing."

"And they still failed."

The Third Elder scoffed coldly. "That boy should have died."

"He was struck cleanly," another elder added. "By all logic, his foundation should have collapsed."

The Grand Elder’s eyes burned.

"And yet he lives."

Silence followed.

Not because they feared speaking.

But because no one liked what that implied.

The doors to the ancestral hall opened slowly.

Not with force.

But with authority.

Every elder turned instantly.

Murong Patriarch stepped inside.

His robes were simple for a man of his position, dark and unadorned. His hair was streaked with gray, his expression calm—too calm.

His gaze swept the room once.

And the temperature dropped.

"...What," he asked quietly, "did you just do?"

No one answered immediately.

The Grand Elder rose, chin lifted defiantly.

"We handled a problem," he said. "One you refused to."

The Patriarch’s eyes sharpened.

"I gave a direct order," he said evenly. "No action. No interference."

The Grand Elder sneered.

"And that," he shot back, "is because you are a coward."

A sharp intake of breath echoed through the hall.

Several elders stiffened.

The Patriarch did not move.

"Say that again," he said softly.

The Grand Elder met his gaze without flinching.

"You kept whining about that boy," he said. "About forbidden talents. About hidden dangers. As if the sky itself would fall because of him."

He laughed coldly.

"But what did he turn out to be?"

"A measly Gold."

The Grand Elder paced slowly.

"A resourceless Gold-ranked nobody," he continued. "Cast out by his own clan. Abandoned. Mocked."

He spread his hands.

"Even Murong Yue," he said dismissively, "who was barely Silver, we enhanced her talent. Gave her resources. Protection."

He scoffed.

"What can a lone Gold boy do?"

The Third Elder nodded. "Exactly."

The Grand Elder’s voice hardened.

"And yet because of him, our great Murong family became a joke."

He slammed his fist into his palm.

"So we chose eradication."

"Not revenge," he said. "Not hatred."

"Cleanup."

The word echoed unpleasantly.

"The embarrassment needed to be erased," the Grand Elder finished. "That lowly worm dared to stain our name."

The Murong Patriarch’s hands clenched slowly at his sides.

His voice, when he spoke, was no longer calm.

"You fools," he said.

The Second Elder raised a hand smoothly.

"Patriarch," he said reassuringly, "there is no need to worry."

The Patriarch turned his gaze on him.

"We made sure it could not be traced back to us," the Second Elder continued. "The contract was routed through intermediaries."

"Scarface Guild handled the execution."

A few elders relaxed slightly.

"And even if someone suspects," the Second Elder added, smiling faintly, "there will be no proof. None."

The Patriarch laughed.

Once.

It was not amused.

"You think proof is what I’m afraid of?" he asked.

The elders frowned.

"You think I warned you because of evidence?"

He stepped forward, spirit pressure rolling subtly through the hall.

"You have not seen," he said slowly, "what I have seen."

The Grand Elder snorted. "You exaggerate—"

"Enough," the Patriarch snapped.

Silence slammed down.

His eyes burned now—not with anger alone, but with fear.

"That boy," he said, "is not a simple Gold."

"He is hiding something."

Something far more dangerous."

The elders exchanged looks.

The Patriarch’s voice dropped.

"Something our Murong clan cannot handle."

The Grand Elder hesitated for the first time.

"...If that were true," he said cautiously, "why hasn’t he shown it?"

The Patriarch’s gaze was ice-cold.

"Because predators do not bare their fangs unless forced."

He turned away.

"And now," he said quietly, "you’ve forced him."

The room fell into an uneasy silence.

Far away.

Inside a recovery chamber bathed in soft light—

Long Hao’s fingers twitched.

Ouyang Xue’er noticed instantly.

"Wait—"

The monitors spiked briefly, then stabilized.

Long Hao’s eyes opened.

Slowly.

Pain lanced through his chest, sharp and deep, but his expression remained controlled.

"...How long?" he asked hoarsely.

Relief crashed through the room.

Ling Yifan stepped forward. "You were unconscious for half a day."

Chen exhaled sharply. "Idiot. You scared us."

Long Hao’s gaze swept the room.

"...The journey?"

Mei Ying crossed her arms. "Paused."

He frowned.

"...Resume it."

Ouyang Xue’er’s eyes widened. "You’re not—"

"I’m fine," he said calmly.

"You were nearly killed," Chen snapped.

Long Hao met his gaze.

"And yet," he said, "I’m still here."

Silence followed.

He pushed himself upright, ignoring the protest from the systems and the ache screaming through his body.

"This attack," he continued, voice steady, "was aimed at me."

He looked at the team.

"There’s no reason for all of you to stop moving forward because of that."

Ling Yifan clenched his jaw. "We’re not leaving you behind."

Long Hao shook his head.

"I’m not asking you to."

A faint, dangerous calm settled over his features.

"I’m saying," he continued, "we don’t change course."

The bus lifted again into the sky.

Same route.

Same destination.

Different atmosphere.

Long Hao sat at the front now, posture relaxed despite the bandages and stabilizers still faintly visible beneath his clothes.

The team watched him carefully.

"...They really tried to erase you," Chen muttered.

Long Hao looked out at the clouds.

"Yes," he said.

"And they failed."

His eyes sharpened slightly.

"That won’t be the last time."

He turned back toward them, gaze calm, dangerous, and unwavering.

"So let them watch," he said quietly.

"Let them calculate."

His lips curved into a faint smile.

"Because next time..."

"...I won’t be the one lying in a recovery chamber."

The bus surged forward.

Toward Vermilion Academy.

Toward Stage Three.

Toward fire.

[Chapter ENDS]