The Hall of Celestial Inquiry was a grand amphitheater of polished stone and suspended lanterns, where the greatest minds of the sect convened to dissect truth from delusion. Today, the hall was unusually full—whispers of a challenge to the long-accepted atomic model had spread like wildfire. At the center of it all stood Li Feng, alone at the podium, bathed in the cold glow of spiritual luminance.

  He felt exposed, as if standing at the edge of a vast abyss. Xian Wei was there, but not beside him—his mentor remained in the audience, impassive, watching. There would be no guiding hand, no words of reassurance. This was his battle to fight alone.

  The assembled scholars murmured as they watched the young disciple. Some exchanged knowing glances, others smirked behind their sleeves.

  “How unfortunate,” an elder whispered just loud enough for others to hear. “Xian Wei has led his disciple astray. Such promise, wasted on a delusion.”

  “Perhaps he sent the boy in his place because even he knows how absurd this is,” another added.

  A chuckle rippled through the hall. It was not outright ridicule—no, it was worse. It was pity, the condescending sorrow of those who believed they were witnessing a promising mind being thrown to ruin.

  Li Feng’s hands tightened into fists, but he exhaled and forced himself to remain calm. They had not yet heard him out. He would not fall before the battle even began.

  Taking a steady breath, he projected his voice with conviction. “Honored scholars, I stand before you today with evidence that challenges the foundation of our understanding. The prevailing model suggests that positive charge is evenly distributed within the atom. But my experiments have proven otherwise.”

  He paused, allowing his words to settle. Instead of silence, a few quiet scoffs sounded from the crowd.

  “This again?” an elder muttered. “I had hoped for something new.”

  Ignoring them, Li Feng pressed forward. “By bombarding atoms with high-energy alpha particles, I have observed that some are deflected at extreme angles, even backward. This suggests that the positive charge is not diffuse, but concentrated into a dense core—a nucleus.”

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  More murmurs arose, but now they were mixed—some dismissive, others intrigued. Still, no one seemed to take him entirely seriously.

  Then, a voice cut through the noise.

  “Li Feng.”

  Grandmaster Lao Ming, the highest authority of the Order, leaned forward from his elevated seat. His piercing gaze settled on the young disciple, his expression unreadable.

  “Your words are bold,” the Grandmaster said. “But boldness alone does not make truth.”

  Li Feng bowed respectfully. “I understand, Grandmaster. That is why I bring evidence.”

  Lao Ming’s eyes flickered with a trace of amusement, though his voice remained steady. “Then let us see if this ‘evidence’ withstands scrutiny.”

  Li Feng continued, displaying the results of his experiment. He explained the scattering patterns, the statistical anomalies, and the inevitable conclusion that a concentrated charge must exist within the atom. He spoke with clarity and precision, ensuring that his argument was airtight.

  But before he could conclude, a deep chuckle resonated from the Grandmaster’s seat.

  “Young one,” Lao Ming said, shaking his head. “You have overlooked something crucial.”

  Li Feng’s heart pounded, but he remained still, waiting for the challenge.

  “If what you say is true,” the Grandmaster continued, “then tell me—why does the atom remain stable?”

  A hush fell over the hall.

  Lao Ming leaned forward, his gaze sharp. “It is well-established that charged particles that change velocity emit energy in the form of electromagnetic waves. If your model is correct, the electron—bound to the nucleus by electrostatic attraction—must be accelerating in orbit. And if it accelerates, it must radiate energy. Losing energy means it should spiral into the nucleus and collapse.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Yet, atoms do not collapse. Our world remains stable.”

  A wave of murmurs surged through the hall, no longer mocking but filled with genuine discussion. The critique was precise, undeniable. Even Li Feng felt a chill settle over him. This was not mere arrogance or tradition clinging to outdated beliefs—this was a real contradiction, a problem that had no immediate solution.

  From the crowd, Xian Wei’s eyes remained fixed on his disciple. He did not intervene. He did not offer a lifeline.

  Li Feng was truly alone in this moment.

  The weight of expectation pressed upon him, but he refused to falter.

  He took a slow breath, forcing himself to think. If the Grandmaster was correct, then the model as it stood could not be the full answer. And yet…

  He clenched his fists.

  If this was truly an insurmountable flaw—

  Then he would find a way to overcome it.