**The 12th Year of Kaiyuan, the Beginning of Winter, Heavy Snow Falls**
The imperial capital Chang'an of the Da Yuan Dynasty was cloaked in a sea of white, as if the heavens had draped the world in silver.
*"The courtyard plum blossoms suddenly release fragrance, a thread of fragrance arises from bitter cold..."*
Within the State Duke's Mansion, Yang Nan stood beneath the plum tree pavilion, holding a scroll. Snowflakes danced gently around him. A crystal flake landed on his head. Yang Nan raised his small hand, carefully plucked it away, and murmured ancient verses. His crisp voice suddenly paused.
Looking up at the plum trees burdened with snow, the defiant blossoms seemed to hold no trace of proud fragrance in his dark eyes. A flicker of bewilderment crossed Yang Nan's gaze. He stood silently in the pavilion for a long time. Nearby, maidservants and attendants, upon hearing the boy lord's reading cease, hurried forward with incense burners and fox fur robes. Yang Nan waved a hand, signaling them to stay back. He sighed inwardly, glancing at his frail twelve-year-old body...
Reincarnation? Transmigration?
The gas explosion had shattered his life in the previous existence. Why did he now carry memories into this strange world? Was it the old Taoist's strange talisman or the peculiar stone given by Ren Xue? Even after twelve years, he still hadn't unraveled this mystery. Yet, being alive was a blessing.
Past lives were but dreams—forgetting them was natural. Yang Nan banished his thoughts and resumed reading:
*"The soul returns to the Three Passes, where are they? No sight of mountains, only broken intestines..."*
The boy's clear recitation reached an elderly nobleman in brocade robes. The old man stood motionless in the hall, watching the snowfall. His expression was solemn, exuding quiet authority. Snowflakes drifted near him, and when one landed in his palm, his dimming eyes suddenly sharpened with piercing light. A decision seemed to form in his mind.
Behind him, several black-cloaked men stood sword in hand, their faces as cold as ice. Yet when they glanced at the old man, their icy gazes flickered with warmth.
A green-robed servant entered and bowed, "My Lord, the guest you requested has arrived."
The old man cast the snowflake aside and said calmly, "Have him enter."
The servant departed. Moments later, a tall young man in a black robe stepped in. His demeanor was resolute, his face youthful yet determined. He walked silently through the wooden hall, then suddenly knelt and declared, "Chi Yang greets the Duke!"
"Chi Yang, you've come? Rise," the old man gestured. A black-clothed attendant handed Chi Yang a lacquered box. "Take this first."
Chi Yang looked up, puzzled. "My Lord, why this..."
The old man waved a hand, eyes filled with resolve. "Chi Yang, you've served me for over a decade now?"
Chi Yang bowed, "Twelve years, three months, and twenty-one days, My Lord. From age ten training on the mountain, to twenty mastering my arts, my family has relied on your care every day. I shall never forget."
A faint smile touched the old man's stern face. "You remember precisely."
Chi Yang's eyes warmed. "The Founding Duke saved my family from peril and allowed me to study under the Xuantian Sect. Your kindness is like a second life. I would die before betraying you!"
The old man nodded. "I summoned you with urgent news. Take these thousand taels of gold, the soft golden silk armor, and this Huoyuan Sword."
Chi Yang ignored the boxes, still kneeling. "What must I do, My Lord? If I draw breath, I shall never disappoint you!"
The old man nodded, then sighed deeply. "My days are numbered... For fifty years, I've served as a statesman, my disciples and protégés spread across the land. Yet now, I find no one worthy to entrust my legacy. Though I am a Confucian sect master, I failed to guide my sons. My eldest son Yang Yuan died years ago, but he left a grandson, Yang Nan. Though I fear not death, after I'm gone..."
Chi Yang's eyes darkened with understanding. The Founding Duke Yang Pu had enjoyed wealth and power for eighty years. Now, as the Emperor's Grand Tutor and a Confucian sect master, he was a tri-royal elder, his influence unmatched. But he had thirteen sons! The eldest, Yang Yuan, and his wife had mysteriously died a decade ago on a journey. The twelve other sons, born to concubines, now schemed viciously for the dukedom.
Though Yang Nan, the sole heir, lived under his grandfather's protection, once Yang Pu died, twelve ambitious uncles would surely eliminate a twelve-year-old nephew.
Seeing the understanding in Chi Yang's eyes, the old man nodded approvingly. This loyal disciple, trained with his utmost effort, was steadfast and brave. He sighed, "Those brutes hold power—some govern provinces, others command armies. If the Emperor remained wise, I wouldn't fear rebellion. But now, he's obsessed with alchemy, neglecting state affairs. Relying on imperial authority is futile..."
Chi Yang frowned. "My Lord, what do you mean?"
Yang Pu said gravely, "Power is but fleeting. My grandson Yang Nan possesses extraordinary potential, bearing the signs of Yin soldiers and Qing Shui. Strangely, though born into a scholarly family, he lacks Confucian refinement. He is not of our sect. As a Confucian Tri-Sage, I lack knowledge of Daoist martial or legal paths. The martial sect's true lineage resides in the Eastern Kunlun Mountains, while the legal sect dwells in the Southern冥 River Realm. Though I've no connection with the Kunlun's Xuan Xu Immortal, I've spent decades searching for the lost Xuanyan Sword, a relic of their previous leader. I intend to offer it as Yang Nan's entrance gift. The Kunlun elders, bound by honor, will surely accept."
Chi Yang nodded, comprehending the old man's decades-long sacrifice. To enter immortal sects, one needed innate talent and destiny. Even his own admission to Xuantian Sect had hinged on his fiery aura.
The Kunlun martial sect was the world's pinnacle, rivaling the冥 River legal sect. Mortal powers could not sway them.
A black-clothed attendant produced a jade box. Opening it, crimson light erupted, filling the hall with fiery brilliance. The Xuanyan Sword, shaped like a serpent, pulsed with living energy. At Chi Yang's proximity, his brow's immortal sword sigil resonated, yearning to merge with the artifact.
"An immortal weapon!" Chi Yang solemnly accepted the box, bowing deeply. "My Lord, rest assured. I'll see Young Master to the Kunlun Mountains, even at the cost of my life!"
Yang Pu smiled and signaled another attendant. "Yang Da, fetch the boy."
Yang Da departed and returned with twelve-year-old Yang Nan. The boy, used to strict seclusion in the mansion, hesitated but obeyed.
"Grandson, greet your grandfather," Yang Pu said.
Yang Nan bowed, "Grandson greets you, Grandfather. Are you well?"
With two lifetimes of experience, he called this old man "Grandfather" sincerely. In this world, only this righteous elder was his kin.
Yang Nan stood tall, though young, his aura sharp as a drawn sword. Yang Pu's sternness softened. "Come here, let Grandfather see you..."
Yang Nan's heart trembled. This grandfather, who had drilled him mercilessly in classics, martial arts, and strategy, now seemed uncharacteristically gentle.
Yang Pu's hands trembled. "Grandson, what do you think of the dukedom?"
Yang Nan hesitated. "I seek only sustenance, not wealth. If my uncles force me, I'd rather give up the title. As long as I'm with you, titles mean nothing."
Yang Pu's eyes gleamed. "Is this true?"
Yang Nan nodded. Power had never interested him. The dukedom was a burden, not a gift.
Yang Pu smiled. "Then tomorrow, I'll petition the Emperor to name your uncle Yang He as heir. You cannot stay here. I know you yearn for the immortal path. Tonight, you leave for the Kunlun Mountains."
Yang Nan's heart lurched. "Grandfather, I'm still young! You're in good health—why this sudden decision?"
Yang Pu's gaze turned distant. "Twelve years ago, an auspicious star shattered the sky, the celestial order shifted, and blood stained the earth. Demons emerged, and chaos loomed. The Confucian sects' masters have fallen. I too must depart. Remember, without strength, never descend from the Kunlun. Even if you fail as an immortal, preserve the Yang lineage."
Yang Nan's panic grew. "But you're a Confucian Tri-Sage! What demon dares harm you?"
Yang Pu's face darkened. "All mortals must die. The Emperor himself cannot defy fate. The stars foretell upheaval. Tonight, meet your elder brother Chi Yang. From now on, follow him as you would me. Do not reveal your identity until Kunlun. Understood?"
Yang Nan bowed to Chi Yang. "Yang Nan greets Elder Brother Chi. I'm indebted to you."
Chi Yang hurried to help. "Young Master, I cannot be a brother!"
Yang Pu's gaze swept both. "Beyond the gates, he is but a commoner. Call him 'Nan' from now on, Chi Yang. Protect him at all costs."
Yang Nan's heart ached. This meticulous farewell... Had his grandfather truly sensed death?
As attendants prepared, Yang Nan sighed. Four loyal servants would accompany them. The old man's arrangements were flawless. Yet why rush? Did he truly have days left?
Chi Yang noticed Yang Nan's gloom. "Young Master, your grandfather's wisdom is vast. Do not grieve."
Yang Nan gripped his hand. "Call me Nan, Elder Brother. Titles mean nothing now. I'll rely on you."
Chi Yang nodded. "Then call me 'Elder Chi'."