Actually.
Quite a few people present shared Hu Xiao's thoughts.
Because of their ancestors' genes, the Hu Clan had produced plenty of people with great strength.
But someone like Hu Zetong was still extremely rare.
As for everyone's stares,
Hu Long seemed completely unaware of them.
He was determined to secure the title of "Hammer Holder" today.
He would not allow anything to go wrong.
Restrain his brilliance, pretend to be weak to catch his opponent off guard?
He, Hu Long, had no need for that. He needed to show enough potential to gain access to supernatural power as soon as possible, and this was his chance.
If this had been anywhere else, Hu Long might have considered hiding his abilities. But he was now at the Hu Clan's Ancestral Rite.
The Strength Bearing Festival was clearly a selection held within the clan.
Hiding his strength now would be downright stupid, wouldn't it?
Of course, more importantly, he suspected that even if he hid his strength, they would find out later.
He had no way to guard against the methods these Secret Martial Artists possessed.
Rather than that,
he might as well show his strength openly.
After all, his abilities might seem incredible among ordinary people.
But compared with these Secret Martial Artists, what did they amount to?
Of course, there were bound to be some risks, but it was worth a try.
After all, everything came with risks.
Besides,
he had a feeling that he possessed more than a thousand catties of strength.
This wasn't some baseless illusion.
It was an instinct born of the exceptional control over his body granted by the trait "Body-Mind Unity."
With that thought, he spread the five fingers of his right hand and slowly pressed his palm against the cold belly of the cauldron.
Under his touch, patches of verdigris covered the bronze cauldron, and faint beast patterns seemed to ripple across it.
"—Huu!"
Hu Long exhaled. The vertebrae in his back tensed one by one, like a great dragon.
As his strength traveled through his body, he used the force-generating technique he had mastered through Perfected Mixed Martial Arts.
At that moment, it focused his strength far more effectively.
Crack!
The blue bricks beneath his feet split apart.
"—Lift!"
Hu Long's eyes opened slightly.
There was no roar, no buildup—only the muffled sound of his muscles and bones grinding together, bursting out all at once.
The next second,
the twelve-hundred-catty bronze cauldron rose from the ground again, its three legs suspended in the air!
Unlike Hu Zetong, who had struggled to lift it to chest height,
the instant the cauldron tilted off the ground, Hu Long's left arm was already supporting its opposite side. The muscles in both arms twisted together like steel cables, and his arched back seemed to bear a mountain. He lifted it high above his head.
Perhaps because the cauldron was tilted, the incense ash that remained inside drifted slowly down from its inner wall.
As he straightened,
the blue bricks beneath his feet sank, cracks spreading across them like a spiderweb.
This Deer Cauldron had been placed here to test strength.
For years, no one had ever truly lifted it. Now Hu Long held it steadily above his head.
The bronze belly of the cauldron reflected the light of the sky.
Under the sun, his shadow stretched across the ground like a pool of black ink.
At the sight,
the entire crowd fell silent for a brief moment.
Whether they were ordinary members of the collateral branches or members of the main family, they all gaped at the figure in the courtyard as though they had seen a ghost.
Because of the special nature of the Hu Family bloodline,
many of their descendants had been born with great strength.
But someone capable of lifting the Deer Cauldron was a rarity, with perhaps one appearing in a century.
And lifting it as high as this was even more extraordinary.
Time slipped by in an instant. Hu Long stood firm without the slightest tremor, and ten seconds quickly passed.
As the bronze cauldron hit the ground,
the crowd finally came back to their senses.
"Gasp! He really lifted it!"
"How strong is this guy?"
"I thought Hu Zetong was already impressive, but I never expected someone could lift the thing above his head."
"So the tales of people strong enough to lift a cauldron really weren't exaggerations..."
"He really lifted it? How is that possible?!"
Hu Xiao, who had been watching nearby, froze with the faint smile still on her face.
A smile didn't disappear; it simply moved elsewhere.
For example, the look of concern vanished from Hu Zhao's face, replaced by a beaming smile.
"Looks like your dear nephew isn't much good."
Hu Xiao opened her mouth.
Normally, she would have refused to concede.
But as she looked at the young man standing tall before her, a feeling of helplessness and defeat rose within her, and she couldn't bring herself to say anything.
His performance far surpassed that of her nephew.
And in a dispute, a younger brother was far closer than a nephew.
If she kept opposing Hu Zhao,
and Hu Long came to resent her,
neither she nor her family would come to any good.
There was simply no comparison between the main family and the collateral branches.
Every Hu Clan member was told this by their elders once they reached adulthood.
She understood it as well.
With that thought,
she took a deep breath.
She looked at Hu Zhao beside her and forced a smile.
"Well, Sister Zhao, I was wrong before. I was too sharp-tongued. I hope you won't hold it against me."
"Want to go again?"
Hu Long paid little attention to the chatter and stares around him. He glanced at Hu Zetong, who was still stunned, and asked with a smile.
At his teasing words, Hu Zetong came to his senses. He gritted his teeth, unsure what to say.
Whatever he might say, the facts were right there before him. He had lost—and lost completely.
Thinking of the boastful things he had said earlier, his face grew red and hot.
The nosebleed that had been slowing down began to worsen again.
After all, he was only fifteen, an age when a boy's pride ran high.
How could he take a blow like this?
"Good! Very good! Your name is Hu Long, right?"
Nearby, the clan leader, Hu Zhenkui, approached in his black robe.
His gaze fell on Hu Long. He stroked his beard lightly, his expression full of approval.
"Yes, Clan Leader!"
Hu Long answered.
"Very good. The fact that you two can lift this Deer Cauldron proves that you're both extraordinary."
Hu Zhenkui gave a slight nod, his voice booming like a bell.
"Hu Long will be today's 'Hammer Holder.'"
He paused, then turned toward Hu Zetong, whose expression still showed some resentment. His tone softened.
"Hu Zetong, you're still young, with a long road ahead of you. Today's trial was only one moment's result. There's no need to dwell on it."
He had already heard of Hu Zetong's performance, so it hadn't surprised him.
What truly surprised him was that another member of the clan had appeared with innate divine strength.
And from what he had seen, this one was even stronger than Hu Zetong!
Even among those born with divine strength, there were differences.
For example, possessing the strength to lift a thousand catties was one thing; being able to raise a thousand-catty cauldron steadily was another.
The human body's strength depended on posture and technique.
A person might easily deadlift a hundred catties, but with one hand, while bent over, or with the weight on their shoulders, they might not manage it.
Hu Zetong had only just managed to raise it, and his unsteady center of gravity and faltering strength had been plain to see.
Hu Long, however, was different.
His face was flushed, but his arms were steady as bedrock, and the cauldron hadn't wavered at all.
He looked like he was straining, but was actually at ease.
He was nowhere near his true limit.
If he had exhausted his strength, then no matter how profound his technique, he could never have kept it so steady.
This boy surpassed Hu Zetong in both his strength and his ability to channel it.
Hu Zhenkui was pleased.
Because of their ancestor, the Hu Clan had never lacked strong people.
But as their bloodline had grown thinner, in the six hundred years since the clan's founding, fewer than ten people had been able to lift the Deer Cauldron before cultivating—excluding their founding ancestor.
Who would have thought that this year's rite would produce one and a half such people at once?
Hu Long was the one.
Hu Zetong, naturally, was the half.