The dense forest rustled with the movements of hidden beasts, their glowing eyes lurking within the shadows of the towering ancient trees. Chen Xin, gripping his bow tightly, nocked an arrow infused with swirling energy. His sharp eyes, reflecting the moonlight, locked onto his prey—a massive, crimson-furred beast with razor-sharp claws. As the beast lunged, he exhaled, steadying his aim, and released the arrow. It whistled through the air like a streak of lightning, piercing straight through the beast's skull. The creature let out a deafening roar before collapsing with a heavy thud, its life force dissipating into the night.
Chen Xin stepped forward, his azure blue Hanfu rippling with each precise movement. A silver headband secured his dark hair, accentuating his well-defined features. He crouched beside the fallen beast, slicing through its hide with expert precision and extracting its glowing core. The radiant orb pulsed in his palm before he slipped it into his pouch, wiping away the specks of beast blood that had splattered onto his handsome face.
"That should be enough… to exchange for spiritual stones," he murmured, brushing dust off his sleeves.
In the dimly lit clearing, the First Master, Chen Jin, stood silently, meticulously cleaning his blade. He was slightly taller than Chen Xin, his frame lean yet powerful. Dressed in an azure blue Lotus-patterned robe, he exuded an air of composed authority befitting the eldest son. Though undeniably handsome, neither he nor Chen Xin could rival the ethereal beauty of their younger nephew, Chen Ying—the Third Master of the Chen Household, whose presence had once shone like a celestial star among them.
Chen Xin let out a tired sigh, his golden eyes glinting as he glanced at Chen Jin. "Chen Ying's burial is in an hour. I'm exhausted."
Chen Jin scoffed but remained silent, his sword reflecting the pale moonlight.
Chen Xin continued, his voice carrying an undertone of dismissal. "Chen Ying is dead… He was never of any use to the family, and he got poisoned. We still don't know who dared to bring such a deadly thing into our midst. At least now, Yan Mei will be free to return to the Ice Palace and continue her duties."
Before Chen Jin could respond, the sound of approaching footsteps broke the night's stillness. A guard emerged from the shadows, his expression solemn. "It is time for the burial."
Chen Xin exhaled through his nose, giving the dead beast one last glance before turning on his heel. He walked toward the guard without hesitation, his movements controlled and effortless. Chen Jin, sheathing his sword with a practiced flick, followed behind, yawning slightly as he casually placed one hand behind his back, his thoughts unreadable as they headed toward their late brother's final farewell.
Chen Ying sat in his dimly lit chamber, the candlelight flickering against the intricate carvings of the wooden walls. He was hunched over a table, ink staining his fingers as he jotted down everything he had learned about this new life. Pages were filled with meticulous notes, calculations, and theories about cultivation and energy flow. His gaze darkened as he tapped the brush against the inkstone.
"The resentment energy has subsided... temporarily. I must wait before forming a core using the Saint energy. This body is too weak to withstand such force. Even with the Jade Lotus Constitution, it remains uncultivated..." he mused, rubbing his temple. "If I force it, the backlash will be disastrous. I need to refine that pill first."
Closing the book with a sigh, he rose from his seat, hands clasped behind his back as he walked towards the window. The moonlight cascaded onto his sharp yet serene features. His thoughts drifted to a distant past, a name slipping from his lips like a whisper in the wind.
"Ling'er..."
A sudden knock broke his trance. His brows furrowed as he turned his head towards the door.
"Who?" he called out.
The door creaked open, revealing Yan Mei, her figure framed against the soft glow of the corridor. She was clad in a flowing blue Hanfu embroidered with icy patterns, her attire exuding the cold elegance of an ice cultivator. The silver tassels on her waist sash swayed gently as she hesitated at the threshold.
"Ah Ying... Are you alright?" she asked, fingers interlacing nervously.
Chen Ying studied her for a moment before exhaling and stepping forward. "I'm fine. I suppose the Heavens were on my side after all," he replied, his voice composed. "Now, I can cultivate."
Yan Mei nodded, her expression unreadable. "I'll be leaving in three days… I wanted to check on your condition before that." She reached into her sleeve and retrieved a scroll, placing it on the table with careful deliberation.
Chen Ying's eyes flickered towards it. He already knew what it was. "Thank you, Yan Mei… and I apologize for scolding you before. I was impulsive."
She blinked, surprised by his calm acknowledgment. "I understand… but why?" Her gaze followed his hand as he picked up the scroll.
"Our marriage certificate," he stated simply, unrolling it. "The Ice Palace Sect only accepts female disciples. Our marriage was arranged for family interests, nothing more. If you dislike it, you have the right to burn it—with our families' permission, of course."
His tone was indifferent, yet firm. The bottom of his Hanfu swept across the polished wooden floor as he turned away.
Yan Mei stiffened. He was different. The Chen Ying she knew had always admired her, always sought her attention. But since their wedding, he had become distant, bitter even. Now, with the revelation of his newfound cultivation ability, he seemed to have transformed completely.
"Perhaps fortune has changed his fate, and now he walks a different path..." she thought, studying his back.
A long silence stretched between them before Chen Ying exhaled. "I'm tired. I need to rest."
Yan Mei lowered her head. "Goodnight, Ying'er," she murmured before quietly stepping out of the room, the door shutting behind her.
Chen Ying let out a deep sigh and loosened the outer robe of his Hanfu, draping it over a nearby stand. He sat cross-legged on the bed, closing his eyes. A faint, lingering energy stirred within him—barely there, yet persistent. Taking out a small porcelain bottle, he uncorked it and tipped a soul purification pill onto his palm. Swallowing it, he pressed his fingers together in a cultivation gesture.
An ethereal glow surrounded him as spiritual energy attempted to condense into a core. The air in the room grew heavy with tension—then, a sharp pain pierced through his chest. His body trembled violently as he coughed up dark blood, splattering onto his white inner robes. His breaths came raggedly as he clutched his chest.
"The resentment energy is still too strong…" he realized, wiping the blood from his lips. "I need to refine that pill immediately. If I delay, this body may not hold out much longer."