The dark green bricks of the ancestral hall of the Ye Family in Qinglan City looked dim and lifeless in the morning dew. Six-year-old Ye Fan knelt on a straw mat, the air around his nose heavy with a mixture of sandalwood and mold. Today was his birthday, and according to family rules, he had to kneel in the ancestral hall for a full hour to offer three sticks of incense to his ancestors.
When the third stick of incense had burned halfway down, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his temples, as if stabbed by a steel awl. The incense ash before him drifted down, piling into a blur of shadows on the offering table, and then those shadows came alive—battlefields of galloping horses and clashing swords, mountain peaks shrouded in churning seas of clouds, a Dark Iron Sword snapped in two, and finally, a poisoned dagger plunging into his back to pierce his heart.
"Cough..." A weak groan slipped from Ye Fan's throat as his hands dug desperately into the edges of the straw mat. Memories of his past life surged back like a tidal wave; he saw that he had once been the Inquiry Realm supreme master known as "True Immortal Xuanxiao," who, while breaking through to the Longevity Realm, had been betrayed by his most trusted Dao companion. His natal artifact, the Jiuxiao Huanpei, had been seized, and his very last thought before his soul shattered had been, "If I could start over, I would surely conceal my brilliance and bide my time."
"Ah-Ye?" A childish call drifted in from outside the ancestral hall. Ye Fan snapped back to reality, cold sweat beading on his forehead. His younger sister, Xuer, was peeking in through the doorway, tugging at the frame. "Uncle Li says the birthday noodles are getting soggy! Hurry up and come out!"
Looking into his sister's clear eyes, a thought stirred within Ye Fan. He grasped her wrist and asked, "Xuer, would you accompany me to the library? I want to find a copy of the *Basic Body Tempering Art* to read."
Xuer tilted her head. "But Dad said you're only six, and you can only enter the library when you turn eight."
"I'll just take a look." Ye Fan crouched down and said in a gentle tone, "I promise not to touch any other books. We'll go eat noodles right after I finish reading."
The little girl bit her lip, nodded, and pulled him by the hand toward the side courtyard. Old Man Wang, the library keeper, was dozing off. Ye Fan fished out the osmanthus sugar he had hidden in his sleeve yesterday and pressed it into Xuer's palm. "Go help your older brother wake Grandpa Wang up, and tell him you want some candy."
While Old Man Wang was being pulled away by a sweet-toothed Xuer with squinted eyes, Ye Fan slipped into the loft on tiptoe. The wooden stairs creaked beneath his feet. Holding his breath, he felt his way up to the third floor and found an ancient text with a blackened cover, *Records of Heaven and Man*. Opening to the first page, neat small standard script leaped into view: "He who achieves the Unity of Heaven and Man contains the universe within, borrowing the Heavenly Dao to deduce all things... Method of Awakening: at the third quarter of the Rat hour, five centers facing the heavens, guide Qi into the Niwan Palace."
That night, under the pretext of a stomachache, he dismissed Uncle Li, who was tending to him, and began meditating according to the guidance in the *Records of Heaven and Man*. Moonlight from the third quarter of the Rat hour leaked through the window paper. He felt a sudden warmth in his Niwan Palace, as though a pool of warm water was spreading through his mind.
"This is... the Inner World?" As his consciousness sank inward, Ye Fan's pupils constricted sharply. Within a space no larger than an inch, clear spring water gushed forth from the void, and amidst swirling blue mist, a half-inch-long spiritual grass was actually sprouting. At the same time, he heard the night watchman's clapper outside the courtyard become ten times clearer; he could even count the frequency of a cricket's wings beating at the base of the wall, accompanied by a faint cracking sound from all his bones—the sensation of his overall attributes increasing by thirty percent felt as though he were soaking in warm wine, bringing an indescribable comfort.
Early the next morning, the martial arts arena was filled with the fragrance of dew-kissed grass. Ye Fan was practicing the three basic stances with a wooden sword when out of the corner of his eye he caught Zhao Wuji from the secondary branch strolling over. Two years older than him with thick eyebrows and large eyes, the youth crossed his arms and sneered, "Is this all the eldest branch's direct descendant is capable of? By the time I was seven, I had already practiced the Qinglan Swordsmanship to the third tier."
"Brother Zhao." Ye Fan withdrew his sword, saluting as he spun the wooden sword in a flourish. "I am only six."
"So what if you're six?" Zhao Wuji stepped half a step forward, the tip of his wooden sword flicking up to touch Ye Fan's chin. "Your mother died long ago, and your father is away year-round; the Ye Family will belong to my father sooner or later. If you can't even hold a sword now, I'm afraid you'll be carrying my shoes in the future—"
Before the words faded, Ye Fan's wooden sword suddenly swept out in a silver arc, precisely deflecting Zhao Wuji's blade and coming to rest against his throat. *Crack!* The sound of the wooden sword dropping to the ground startled a sparrow resting on the eaves. Zhao Wuji touched his reddening throat, his eyes wide as saucers. "You... when did you..."
"Young Master Zhao." Ye Fan bent down to pick up his sword. "I simply figured something out."
The martial arts arena fell into a dead silence. A few passing servants peeked furtively. Zhao Wuji's face turned the color of a pig's liver, and he flung his sleeve and ran off. Ye Fan's heart pounded; just now, as he used his Inner World to deduce the sword moves, he distinctly felt that lesser world expand by a fraction of an inch. Yet if such a strange phenomenon were to be discovered by others...
"Young Master!" Rapid footsteps came from the moon gate. Ye Fan turned his head and saw Uncle Li running breathlessly, followed by a gray-robed elder—Ye Yuanshan, an elder of the Ye Family. The old man frowned, his gaze sweeping over like a knife. "Ye Fan, come with me to the main hall."
The morning breeze fluttered the hem of Ye Fan's robe. As he looked at Ye Yuanshan's tight jawline, he suddenly remembered how, when he was cornered and slaughtered in his past life, his enemies had closed in with this exact same impatient urgency. The clear spring within his Inner World surged suddenly. He gripped his wooden sword tightly and replied softly, "Alright."