"Ye Can, Ye Gui, Lin Yue—if you have close friends among them, name them now. I'll consider pardoning them!"
Ye Fan's voice carried across the bloodstained courtyard.
Lin Yue quickly pointed out several guards who had shown him kindness. Ye Fan motioned for them to step aside. As for Ye Gui and Ye Can? In the Ye Clan, they'd been less than insects—kicked, spat upon, their very existence a joke. They had no friends to spare.
After pardoning a dozen or so, Ye Fan's right hand slashed downward like a guillotine.
"Kill the rest."
Ye Qingtian and the remaining clansmen roared in fury, their vital energy erupting as they desperately tried to break through the encirclement. Ye Fan's merciless decree had shattered their last hope.
Commander Yang Xiao and Li Zhong lunged at Ye Qingtian. Arrows darkened the sky as the Imperial Vanguard Guard rained death upon the Ye Clan. Screams and curses filled the air.
"Ye Fan! You slaughter your own kin for power! You're worse than a beast!"
"Trading family blood for status—have you no humanity?!"
The agonized shouts shook the heavens. Bystanders watching from nearby rooftops sneered, their faces twisted in disgust. To them, this was the vilest betrayal—a man butchering his lineage for personal gain.
Only two souls in that bloodsoaked courtyard truly understood:
Ye Gui and Ye Can watched the massacre without an ounce of pity. Only grim satisfaction. This clan deserved annihilation. A nest of vipers that fed on its own. Rotting from the inside.
The slaughter lasted two grueling hours. When the last Ye clansman—Ye Qingtian himself—collapsed with Yang Xiao's spear through his heart, the compound had become a charnel house. The cobblestones gleamed crimson.
Ye Fan's name would indeed echo across the capital—but as a byword for treachery. The kin-slayer. The upstart who sold his family for a title. The discarded cripple who'd clawed his way up by stepping on corpses.
He couldn't care less.
Back at the Ink Prince Manor, servants scurried to accommodate Ye Gui and Ye Can's surviving relatives. Maids led the two young men away to bathe and change into noble silks—garments far removed from the rags they'd worn as clan outcasts.
Only Lin Yue and five of his trusted guards remained in the reception hall.
"Lin Yue," Ye Fan said bluntly, "will you serve under me?"
The guard captain stiffened. Conflict flashed in his eyes. Ye Fan sighed inwardly. Even this man who owed him his life couldn't stomach what he'd just done. They all think I'm a monster.
"Summon the steward," Ye Fan called instead.
A bowing attendant appeared. "Your Highness?"
"Fetch three hundred taels of silver for Lin Yue."
The coins arrived in an ornate chest. Lin Yue recoiled as if burned. "M-my prince, I couldn't possibly—"
"You carried me back when I was left for dead." Ye Fan's voice softened. "I repay debts. Keep it."
As Lin Yue departed with his men, the weight of judgment hung thick in the air.
The moon hung high when Ye Fan found Ye Gui and Ye Can in the rear courtyard. Bathed and dressed in fine robes, they stood awkwardly—like stray dogs brought into a king's chambers.
Ye Gui kept plucking at his embroidered sleeves—hands that had known only calluses now draped in silk. Ye Can adjusted better, though his missing right arm made the noble garments hang strangely.
They dropped to one knee as Ye Fan approached.
"Never kneel to me again." Ye Fan hauled them up by their elbows. His next words stunned them:
"I don't want servants. I want brothers."
"B-brothers?" Ye Gui's voice cracked.
Ye Fan gripped their shoulders. "We've all been broken by fate. Now we rise together." His eyes burned with rare intensity. "Will you stand with me at the peak of this world?"
The two young men exchanged glances. Something unspoken passed between them. When they spoke, it was in perfect unison:
"You treat us as equals—we'll follow you through hell."
Ye Fan's laughter rang across the courtyard as he embraced them. "Then I name you brothers! From this day—Ye Can, you're Second Brother. Ye Gui, Third."
(For the record: Ye Can—16 years, 7 months. Ye Gui—16 years, 4 months. Ye Fan, at 17, naturally claimed eldest status.)
Their hands clasped forearm to forearm—a warrior's pledge. In that grip flowed the unbreakable bond of men who'd died for each other in another life.
One Month Later
Twin geysers erupted from massive medicinal vats in the training yard. Two figures shot skyward, muscles corded with newfound power.
Ye Fan leaned against the gatepost, grinning. "Took you long enough."
"Big Brother!"
Ye Can landed lightly, his single arm now rippling with defined muscle. Even Ye Gui's perpetually cold expression cracked into a smile.
"The bone-melting pain was worth it," Ye Can said, flexing his revitalized meridians. The once-crippled youth now thrummed with energy.
Ye Gui simply nodded—but his eyes shone brighter than they had in years.
Beyond the manor walls, the capital still buzzed with condemnation. Merchants spun tales of the "kin-slayer prince" to wide-eyed travelers. Let them talk.
The trio had mountains to climb.