When the candlelight in the West Chamber of the Ye Family burned to the third watch, Ye Fan was still standing guard by the bed. Ye Xuer was curled up like a small white cat, her forehead still damp from the cloth just used to wipe away her sweat. His fingertips rested lightly on her wrist pulse, and the clear spring water within his Inner World flowed slowly along her spiritual meridians, forcing the last wisps of the residual "Hundred-Day Drunkenness" out of her body. In his past life, he could not protect his closest family; in this life, this pair of hands that had once been stained with blood would cradle the purest warmth.
"Young Master." Uncle Li's voice came from outside the door, carrying the damp chill of the night dew. "Young Master Zhao's carriage returned to the City Lord's Mansion half an hour ago, and three new black-maned horses were added to the stables—they are thousand-li steeds from the Northern Desert."
Ye Fan tapped his finger against the edge of the bed. The candlelight suddenly flickered, reflecting the turbulent, dark undercurrents swirling in the depths of his eyes. He should have guessed long ago—where would a fool like Zhao Wuji get the guts to set up interlocking traps? The real viper was hidden behind the vermilion gates of the City Lord's Mansion.
"Uncle Li," he rose, drawing the thin quilt up around Xuer's neck. "Starting tomorrow, add three layers of covert sentries around the estate. Chop down all the green bamboo in the front courtyard—it hides no one and stops no arrows."
The old servant's throat worked. He had followed the Ye Family for thirty years and had never seen a Young Master so calm. Back then, before the old matriarch breathed her last, she had gripped his hand and said, "Ah-Ye is just like his father." Now, it seemed this child possessed even more composure than the head of the house had back then.
"Also," Ye Fan turned, his sleeve stirring a gust of wind, and the *Qinglan Sword Manual* on the desk snapped shut. "Go to the apothecary and get three catties of cinnabar, and have the guards paint exorcism talismans along the perimeter wall. If Zhao Batian is going to make a move, he will choose the hour of Yin."
Uncle Li gave an acknowledgment and was just about to retreat when hurried footsteps suddenly echoed from outside the courtyard. "Steward Li!" The gatekeeper's voice cracked. "All the dogs in the back lane have suddenly gone silent!"
Ye Fan's pupils abruptly contracted. He grabbed the Jiuxiao Huanpei from the bedside table; the profound iron zither body still retained his body temperature. The tiny spatial realm within his Inner World instantly expanded by three inches, and his perception spread across the entire residence like a spiderweb—behind the spirit wall in the southwest corner, five figures were hugging the base of the wall, each with a poisoned willow-leaf dagger tucked into their waist.
"Uncle Li, take Xuer to the secret room." His voice was as light as a snowflake, yet it landed on the old servant's ears with the weight of a thousand jun.
By the time Uncle Li disappeared behind the hidden door carrying the sleeping little girl, Ye Fan was already standing at the courtyard gate. The moonlight was mostly blocked by dark clouds as he watched those five figures pause at the corner of the wall. The leader made a hand gesture, and two of them felt their way toward the latch—a red rope that Ye Fan had tied with his own hands this morning was currently swaying gently in the night breeze.
"You gentlemen have come to the Ye Family in the dead of night to ask for tea?"
His voice was like a block of ice, striking the back of all five men's necks with pinpoint accuracy. The five turned simultaneously, their blade lights slashing five cold flashes through the night. The leader was a bearded man with a knife scar on his left eyebrow: "The brat is quite alert, but—"
Before he finished speaking, he saw a blur before his eyes. Ye Fan's figure had already closed in, the zither tassel of the Jiuxiao Huanpei sweeping across the wrist of the hand holding the dagger. The perception of his Inner World magnified every slight twitch of the opponent's muscles tenfold, and just as the bearded man was about to change his stance, a sharp pain shot through his wrist bone—he had been precisely struck at the Quchi acupoint by the profound iron bead on the zither tassel.
"Crack." As the dagger clattered to the ground, Ye Fan's knee drove into the small of the bearded man's back. This move was deduced from the *Fragmented Star Fist Manual*, designed specifically to break the defenses of the Body Tempering Realm Late-Stage. The bearded man let out a muffled groan, his entire body arching like a shrimp as a fishy sweetness surged up his throat.
Only then did the remaining four react, closing in from four directions. Ye Fan took half a step back, his back pressing against the old locust tree in the courtyard. The spiritual Qi in his Inner World began to surge, and he could clearly "see" the trajectories of the four men's blade winds—the man on the left had the fastest blade speed, the one on the right had unstable breathing, and the two in the back had floating footwork, being novices who had just entered body tempering.
"Well timed." He gave a low laugh, holding the Jiuxiao Huanpei horizontally across his chest. The zither body vibrated, actually emitting a hum resembling a dragon's roar. This was something he had accidentally comprehended yesterday while deducing the *Jiuxiao Tune* using his Inner World; by borrowing the Power of the Heavenly Dao to resonate with the spiritual Qi of heaven and earth, even a zither instrument could unleash spiritual might.
The blade wind from the left reached three inches from his eyes. Ye Fan tilted his head, the profound iron zither tassel entangling the blade edge, and with a twist of his wrist, he flung the dagger toward the man on the right. The swordsman on the right hurriedly raised his blade to parry, only to see that Ye Fan had already closed in on him, pressing his fingertips against the Shanzhong acupoint—this was a pressing-point technique he had modified based on the meridian map inside his Inner World, three times faster than ordinary methods.
In less time than it took to brew a cup of tea, all five men had collapsed to the ground. The bearded man had blood seeping from his temple, and as he looked at the youth standing in the moonlight, his throat tightened: "You... you are only at the body tempering realm..."
"But I can see your flaws." Ye Fan squatted down, his fingertips pinching the bearded man's chin. "Speak, who sent you?"
The bearded man's pupils shrank violently. He remembered the instructions given by his employer: "If captured, bite open the poison sac under your tongue." But just as the tip of his tongue touched that small pill, he saw the youth's eyes suddenly turn gold—not an ordinary gold, but a gold that swirled like a cosmic Star Map, as if tens of thousands of laws were churning within it.
"You... you are at Unity of Heaven and Man..." His voice carried a crying tone.
"I have simply lived one more life than you." Ye Fan's thumb pressed against his Adam's apple. "How much silver did Zhao Batian give you? Triple, and I'll buy your life."
Cold sweat instantly soaked through the bearded man's back. He recalled that finger-strike technique just now, the Star Map in the youth's eyes, and what the employer had said—"that brat of the Ye Family is nothing to be afraid of"—to hell with nothing to be afraid of!
He pointed trembling toward the direction of the City Lord's Mansion: "It was the City Lord... he said the Ye Family occupies the fishing harvest of the Qinglan River, and wanted to... wanted to teach you a lesson..."
Ye Fan's knuckles turned slightly pale. He had anticipated that Zhao Batian wouldn't let the matter rest, but he hadn't expected the other party to escalate from covert arrows to overt spears so quickly. The fishing harvest of the Qinglan River was merely a facade; the real reason was the clan tournament in three days—among the younger generation of the Ye Family, only he could contend for the position of head of the family, and what Zhao Batian wanted was to turn the Ye Family into his puppet.
"Uncle Li." He called out without turning his head.
The old servant emerged from the hidden door, carrying a medicine box: "Does the Young Master wish to interrogate them?"
"No." Ye Fan stood up, the moonlight plating his shoulders with a layer of cold frost. "Collect all their daggers. The eavesdropping devices inside the scabbards—" He pointed at the bronze fish-shaped pendant at the bearded man's waist. "Crush them and scatter them at the gates of the City Lord's Mansion."
Uncle Li's eyes lit up. That fish-shaped pendant was the mark of the City Lord's Mansion, and Zhao Batian was accustomed to using such items to frame others. Ye Fan's move was to splash the dirty water right back.
When the deep-night Ye Family returned to tranquility, Ye Fan sat on the stone pier of the martial arts arena. The Jiuxiao Huanpei rested across his knees, and the tiny spatial realm within his Inner World was expanding slowly—during the battle just now, he distinctly felt that his range of perception had grown larger by another circle. This was the characteristic of the "Unity of Heaven and Man" talent; every breakthrough or brush with life-and-death crisis would cause the Inner World to grow.
He closed his eyes and concentrated, his consciousness sinking into the Inner World. The clear spring water continued to flow, except that in the center there was now an extra patch of palm-sized clear space, upon which floated tiny specks of light—those were the fragments of cultivation techniques he had deduced using the Power of the Heavenly Dao. In his past life, he was an Inquiry Realm mighty figure, yet he had never seen such an inner world capable of containing heaven and earth. Perhaps this was the key to his attaining Changsheng.
"Heaven and earth in a single breath..." he murmured, his fingertips tracing an arc across the zither body. The spiritual Qi within his Inner World suddenly surged along with his fingertips, condensing into a sword of light in mid-air. This was a new move he had comprehended during the battle just now, utilizing the Inner World to stir external spiritual Qi, linking himself in a single thread with heaven and earth.
Although the sword of light existed for only a single instant, it made his heartbeat skip a beat—if this move were mastered to perfection, even a Void Breaking Realm expert might not necessarily be able to block it.
Meanwhile, in the secret room of the City Lord's Mansion, Zhao Batian smashed a tea set heavily onto the ground. "Useless trash! Five skilled experts of the Body Tempering Realm Late-Stage couldn't even handle a sixteen-year-old brat?" His face flushed crimson, the tiger-patterned jade pendant at his waist clashing against the table. "What demonic art did that brat use? To actually be able to see through your ambush?"
The chief of the dark guards kneeling on the ground trembled all over: "Reporting to my lord, that youth... that youth's eyes... seemed capable of seeing through people's hearts..."
"Bulls**t!" Zhao Batian drew the saber at his waist, its gleaming light turning the chief's face pale. "In the clan tournament three days from now, I am going to make the Ye Family unable to hold their heads high in Qinglan City. Go notify the Wang Family and tell them that I am willing to cede three-tenths of the iron ore to them—as long as they cripple Ye Fan's hands during the tournament!"
After the dark guard chief rolled and crawled away, Zhao Batian stared at the map of Qinglan City on the wall, his gaze resting on the location of the Ye Family's ancestral hall. He pulled out the secret letter from his bosom; the blood-red characters on it were still not completely dry: "Eliminate Ye Fan quickly, otherwise Hanmei Pavilion will intervene."
Hanmei Pavilion... Zhao Batian's hands trembled slightly. He had long heard that it was an assassination organization even more terrifying than the imperial court's secret guards, but Ye Fan was merely a scion of a noble family—how could he have provoked such an entity?
Early the next morning, as Ye Fan was practicing his sword in the martial arts arena, he suddenly heard the sound of faint footsteps outside the courtyard. He withdrew his sword and turned around, only to see a masked woman standing beneath the peach tree by the roadside. She wore a moon-white dress embroidered with bamboo, and hanging from her waist was a silver token engraved with the characters "Hanmei," faintly discernible in the morning mist.
"Good morning, Young Master." Her voice was like bamboo leaves moistened with dew. "My master wishes to see you."