"Cowardly brat! Since you refuse to submit, I'll shatter you myself!"
Ye Qingtian's roar echoed like thunder.
Ye Qingtian couldn't distinguish which of the two charging figures was real. The piercing Sword's Howl had fractured his focus. Instinctively, he channeled every ounce of protective Qi around himself.
SHIIING!
Voidstep Sword's edge flashed. The blade tore through Ye Qingtian's defenses—but Ye Fan's cultivation was too weak. The strike only carved a shallow gash across Ye Qingtian's waist before their bodies spun past each other.
Ye Fan didn't hesitate. Nine Void Mirage Steps blurred beneath him. Three heartbeats later, he was beside the staggering Emperor, his right hand clamping over the poisoned wound.
Vital energy surged from Ye Fan's palm—a torrent infused with the luminous patterns of his divine meridians. Could it neutralize the toxin? He didn't know. This was pure desperation.
Beigong Hanxiao gasped as warmth flooded his veins. The corrosive burn of Bloodbane Violet Sky dissolved like ice in fire. Torn flesh knitted. Bruised organs pulsed with renewed vigor.
Ye Qingtian touched his bleeding side. Rage ignited when he saw Ye Fan. His daughter, Ye Linglong, had vanished after confronting this bastard. His son, Ye Feng, slaughtered like livestock. This wretch murdered my bloodline.
"YE FAN!"
The name tore from his throat, raw with hatred. He lunged, a tidal wave of masked killers following.
Ye Fan stood unmoved. The Emperor straightened. Weakness still lingered—but the poison was gone.
Flanked by assassins, Ye Qingtian unleashed a killing palm strike. Beigong Hanxiao moved.
A violet phantom-loong coiled around the Emperor's arm.
Earth Tier Low Grade Martial Technique: Coiling Loong Palm!
BOOOOOOM!
Energy detonated. Shockwaves hurled assassins backward. Ye Qingtian flew like crumpled paper, smashing through an ancient pine. Blood fountained from his lips.
Impossible. Terror seized him. Bloodbane Violet Sky cripples even Core Formation Level Nine masters! How did he—? His eyes snapped to Ye Fan. The cripple... healed him?
Clarity struck. This boy returned to the Ye Clan broken. Yet he killed Ye Feng. Slew Ye Linglong. Wounded him. And now... cured an Emperor?
A secret. A world-shaking inheritance. It had to be.
Ye Qingtian locked eyes with Ye Fan. Rage warred with greed. Beigong Hanxiao's aura swelled—nearing its full Core Formation Level Five might.
"Retreat!" he snarled. Masked hands hauled him backward into the forest shadows.
Beigong Hanxiao exhaled sharply. Golden light rippled across his skin as suppressed injuries mended. Within moments, imperial authority radiated from him once more.
He bowed formally to Ye Fan. "This one owes you his life, young hero. I am Hanxiao. May I know my savior's name?"
Ye Fan grinned, youthfulness plastered across his face. "No thanks needed, Uncle Han! Upholding justice is every cultivator's duty. I'm Ye Fan."
Uncle Han. The title echoed strangely in Beigong Hanxiao's mind. Decades had passed since anyone addressed the Celestial Emperor of Chu with such... familiarity. A ghost of warmth touched his heart.
Ye Fan led him to the cabin. Su Xi rushed out, relief softening her worry lines. At Ye Fan's casual introduction, she ushered the Emperor inside, offering simple wooden cups of water.
"Mother," Ye Fan announced brightly, "I brought some fine wine when I left the Ye Clan. Please fetch it! I wish to toast Uncle Han—we're kindred spirits!"
Su Xi retrieved his travel pack. Inside lay only three clay jars of wine. Nothing else. She placed them on the rough-hewn table.
Beigong Hanxiao's gaze lingered on the near-empty bag. He carries no supplies... only wine to share? Admiration stirred. Such uncalculated generosity.
Ye Fan's smile held a knife's edge. This was calculated theater. Beigong Hanxiao held the power to obliterate the Ye Clan—and secure Su Xi's safety. This Emperor was the perfect blade for his revenge.
"Wine demands meat, Uncle Han!" Ye Fan declared, draining his cup. "Shall we hunt?"
The Emperor's laughter rang out, freed momentarily from imperial weight. "Lead on, Young Friend Ye!"
Outside, Ye Fan became wind. The Nine Void Mirage Steps wove illusions around him—a flicker of presence, then absence.
Beigong Hanxiao's eyes sharpened. Profound footwork. Near divine. He activated his own Earth Tier Low Grade: Three-Inch Step. Qi surged. His form blurred—a golden loong gliding over roots and rocks. He matched Ye Fan's pace effortlessly.
Ye Fan laughed. His steps shifted rhythm—subtle, disruptive pulses disrupting the Emperor's tempo. Beigong Hanxiao frowned, concentration deepening.
Their strides became a silent duel—syncopated, challenging. Ye Fan accelerated. Beigong Hanxiao countered. Faster. More complex. Leaves swirled in agitated vortices around them.
Ye Fan stopped.
His right palm snapped forward.
Mortal Tier Low Grade Martial Technique: Boulder-Shattering Palm!
The Hidden Attribute: Gale Force ignited. Vital energy spiraled violently across his palm. He shot forward like a ballista bolt.
CRUNCH!
A fat Houndbeast dropped, spine shattered. Ye Fan hoisted the carcass effortlessly, grinning at the Emperor.
Beigong Hanxiao stared, awe warring with disbelief. "Young Friend Ye... You disrupted my Three-Inch Step. Perfected even a Mortal Tier technique..." He shook his head slowly. "Your future is boundless."
Ye Fan clasped his hands, humility etched on his face. "You flatter me, Uncle Han. I'm merely... a discarded son of the Ye Clan."
"Discarded?" The Emperor's voice sharpened.
Ye Fan hefted the beast. "Let's roast this, share the wine, and I'll tell the tale!"
By the fire, Ye Fan carved the choicest hindquarter for Su Xi. The prime cut went to Beigong Hanxiao. For himself? A simple slab of breast meat. He ate with gusto—ripping flesh from bone, washing it down with wine. Unpretentious. Bold.
The Emperor watched him. Discarded? This boy radiated nobility deeper than any courtier's. Fierce loyalty to his mother. Fearless generosity. Unmatched martial insight. He's a dragon disguised as dirt.
Ye Fan knew his audience. His past life's memories painted Beigong Hanxiao clearly: an Emperor forged in the wilds, who valued raw courage and filial piety above polished flattery. Every gesture—the shared hardship, the humble meat, the respect for Su Xi—was precision-forged medicine for this ruler's soul.
Beigong Hanxiao raised his wine jar. His gaze held newfound respect. "To Young Friend Ye. The Ye Clan's blindness is Chu's fortune."
Ye Fan clinked his jar against the Emperor's. The firelight danced in his eyes—cold, calculating, and utterly victorious. The blade was now in his hand.