The morning mist had not yet dispersed, and the Blue Stone Slabs of the martial arts arena were still beaded with dew. As Ye Fan sheathed his sword, his knuckles tapped lightly against the hilt—a habit formed in his past life, a subtle gesture to steady his mind whenever he sensed danger.
The masked woman beneath the peach tree took half a step forward, her moon-white skirt brushing against the dew-kissed blades of grass. The silver "Hanmei" plaque at her waist gleamed coldly in the morning fog. As she lowered her gaze, her eyelashes cast butterfly-wing shadows upon her veil. "Has the young master ever heard of Hanmei Pavilion?"
Ye Fan's pupils contracted slightly. In his previous life, before his fall, he had heard of this name—an assassination organization that made even mighty figures in the Inquiry Realm break out in cold sweat, operating like winter plums breaking through snow, leaving no trace behind. For now, however, his expression remained that of an ignorant sixteen-year-old, his fingertips unconsciously rubbing the Jiuxiao Huanpei at his waist. "The young lady's silver plaque is quite exquisite indeed. Yet the embroiderers of Qinglan City... could never weave such a pattern."
"The young master has a sharp eye." The woman gave a light chuckle, her voice beneath the veil sounding like ice-soaked spring water. "My master says that the spiritual energy of heaven and earth you stirred up in the West Market the other day with the Jiuxiao Huanpei startled the Hanmei Pavilion's covert post in the south of the city." Abruptly raising her hand, her fingertips brushed against a peach branch beside her, sending a pale pink petal drifting right before Ye Fan. "Could the flow of spiritual energy on this petal be a sign of the Unity of Heaven and Man?"
Goosebumps instantly broke out across the back of Ye Fan's neck. The "Unity of Heaven and Man" was an innate talent he had only awakened after his rebirth; even the elders in his clan merely assumed he was a martial arts fanatic who practiced diligently. Staring at the petal, he watched the spiritual energy condense at its tip into a golden thread as fine as a hair—the exact characteristic of spiritual energy overflowing from his Inner World.
"Who on earth are you?" He retreated half a step, his back coming up against the stone wall of the martial arts arena, his right hand resting lightly over his sword hilt. "If this is merely a test, it can stop here."
"Su Wan'er." The woman removed the veil from her face, revealing a lean countenance with brow ridges like blades and slightly upturned outer corners of her eyes. "Intelligence envoy of Hanmei Pavilion." She withdrew half a jade pendant from her sleeve, lightly tapping it against the Jiuxiao Huanpei at Ye Fan's waist. As the two pieces of jade collided, they emitted a crisp sound like the cry of a phoenix. "Does the young master remember that this Huanpei was originally a pair?"
Ye Fan's breathing abruptly hitched. When he had obtained the Jiuxiao Huanpei in his past life, he had simply assumed it was an unowned, solitary piece. Looking now at the half-pendant that matched the patterns of his own Huanpei with absolute precision, memories rushed over him like a tidal wave: before his fall in his previous life, he had seen similar jade patterns in ancient ruins, assuming them to be mere decorations then, but now they appeared to be a token of inheritance.
"The crucial information you mentioned... is it related to this pair of Huanpei?" He suppressed his churning emotions, though his voice dropped a third lower than usual.
Su Wan'er nodded. "The Jiuxiao Huanpei was forged by ancient immortals and can communicate with the origin of heaven and earth. However, a complete Huanpei requires gathering three seals, and one of them... is in the Ten-Thousand Snake Cave of Qinglan Mountain." Her fingertip touched the center of her brows. "My master says that the young master's Inner World can contain spiritual energy, making you the only person capable of passing through the poisonous miasma of the Ten-Thousand Snake Cave."
Before her voice had even faded, a light cough came from the corner gate of the martial arts arena. Turning their heads simultaneously, they saw an elderly man with white hair leaning on a wooden cane standing at the entrance. His coarse Taoist robe fluttered in the morning wind, and grass clippings still clung to the wrinkles on his forehead, as if he had just strolled down from the wild trails of the back mountain.
He stared fixedly at the Jiuxiao Huanpei at Ye Fan's waist, his turbid eyes suddenly lighting up with startling brilliance. "What a fine sapling for the Unity of Heaven and Man!"
Ye Fan's hand instantly pressed down on his sword hilt, yet he halted the very moment he touched the scabbard. The elderly man's aura was even steadier than that of the Great Elder, the most formidable figure in his clan—like ancient jade resting at the bottom of a deep pool, unassuming and unflashy, yet filling others with a sense of dread that kept them from making rash moves.
"Old Daoist Zhang Sanfeng. Passing through Qinglan City, I caught a whiff of spiritual energy and dropped by to take a look," the elderly man said. Without waiting for Ye Fan's reply, he walked straight to the center of the martial arts arena, striking the ground with his wooden cane with a sharp *thud*. "Just now, watching you practice your sword, the forms belonged to the Ye Family's 'Qinglan Seven Forms', but that final move, 'Piercing Clouds', was executed incorrectly."
Ye Fan's pupils constricted slightly. The "Qinglan Seven Forms" was the Ye Family's ancestral Body Tempering martial art. He had memorized the manuals back-to-front by the age of ten, and just yesterday, the clan's martial arts instructor had praised his execution as reaching the realm of perfection.
"When you channeled spiritual energy into your sword, the energy of your Inner World ran through your lung meridian." Zhang Sanfeng suddenly raised his hand, the tip of his wooden cane pointing toward Ye Fan's right shoulder. "It should run through the conception vessel, utilizing the breath of heaven and earth to force open the Zigong Acupoint—" His fingertip stopped a mere half-inch away from touching Ye Fan. "Does the young friend dare let this old Daoist try?"
Ye Fan took a deep breath. In his previous life, he had encountered far too many experts who hid their true strength beneath a humble exterior, yet his intuition told him this elderly man meant him no harm. Releasing his sword hilt, he said in a deep voice, "Please."
The instant Zhang Sanfeng's finger touched his Jianjing Acupoint, Ye Fan felt a warm current of spiritual energy flow into his body, surging straight up along his meridians toward his crown. The clear spring within his Inner World suddenly roiled, and the empty patch in its center expanded by another three inches, while the floating fragments of cultivation manuals emitted a faint glow, as though guided by some force to piece themselves back together.
"Marvelous!" Zhang Sanfeng pulled back his hand, his beard trembling with excitement. "This Inner World of yours is even three parts more marvelous than my 'One Qi Transforms into Three Pure Ones' back in the day!" He fished a crumpled paper package out from his bosom. "These are spiritual ginseng roots I picked at the foot of the mountain. Boil them in water and drink it every day, and your Inner World will expand by another circle in half a month."
Ye Fan accepted the paper package, his fingertips brushing against the damp soil still clinging to the ginseng roots. He suddenly remembered how, in his past life before his fall, he had likewise been guided by a reclusive expert. A warmth rose in his throat, and he bowed solemnly to Zhang Sanfeng with a martial artist's salute. "Many thanks, Senior."
"What is there to thank?" Zhang Sanfeng waved a hand and turned toward the corner gate. "This old Daoist still has an old friend to see down south. Once you break through the Qi Condensation Realm, come look for me at Wudang Mountain—" His figure vanished into the morning mist, though his voice rang out clearly. "Remember to bring the other piece of the Jiuxiao Huanpei!"
Only then did Su Wan'er speak softly. "It seems the young master's fortuitous encounters run even deeper than I imagined." Donning her veil once more, she added, "I shall return in three days to discuss the details of the Ten-Thousand Snake Cave." With that, she prepared to leave, but turned her head to add one last sentence: "Zhao Batian is uniting with the Wang and Li families to cripple you during the clan tournament. They have bribed rogue cultivators from the outer city to ambush you in the West Market at the hour of Si today."
Ye Fan's fingers dug into the Jiuxiao Huanpei, leaving red marks. In his previous life, his fall had been brought about precisely because he trusted an ally's invitation to an ambush. Looking now at Su Wan'er's departing back, then touching the spiritual ginseng given to him by Zhang Sanfeng tucked inside his robes, he suddenly smiled—in this lifetime, his blade was finally ready to leave its sheath.
The morning mist gradually dissipated, casting long, slender shadows against the stone wall of the martial arts arena. Ye Fan lowered his gaze to the merging cultivation manual fragments within his Inner World, Su Wan'er's parting words echoing in his ears. The clan tournament in three days, the Ten-Thousand Snake Cave in seven days, and that other half of the Jiuxiao Huanpei hidden who-knows-where... He gripped the sword at his waist tighter, his knuckles turning white—this time, he would make everyone who plotted against him taste what it meant to suffer the backlash of heaven and earth.
The bronze bell of the martial arts arena suddenly rang out, signaling a household servant calling him for breakfast. As Ye Fan raised his head, he caught sight of Zhao Batian's covert guard crouching upon the eaves of a distant city tower, the short blade at his waist flashing in the sunlight. Touching the newly acquired spiritual ginseng within his Inner World, the corners of his mouth curved into a faint smile—what was bound to come would finally arrive.