When the morning sunlight of the rising sun drifted across the carved wooden windows of Wanhua Tower, Ye Fan was lowering his gaze to fixate on the lingering drop of dew about to fall from the windowsill. The scene of his Inner World shattering amidst a bloody mist in his previous life flashed briefly in his mind, only to be washed away by the human voices drifting up from below—Liu Er's shouts directing the hands to repair a cargo stall, Boss Qian's banter and bartering with a vegetable vendor, and Xiaohong's crisp voice calling out, "Young Master Ye."
His fingertips gently brushed against the Jiuxiao Huanpei at his waist, and the faint light within the jade surged into his meridians through his palm, instantly causing the Yuanqi within his Inner World to churn like a stream. This square inch of space, which had expanded alongside his cultivation, felt at this moment like a newly plowed field caressed by a spring breeze, easing even the nerves that had been taut for half the night.
"Is Young Master Ye coming downstairs?" Old Li's booming voice drifted up from outside the building, mingling with the crisp clinking of teacups. "This old man has just brewed a pot of freshly picked Yunwu tea. Would you care for a taste?"
Chapter 43