Ye Gui and Ye Can could both cultivate the Dantian Gate Method, but Ye Fan wanted to temper their physiques first. This way, the Dantian Gates they opened—though not as monstrous as his—would still surpass those of ordinary martial artists.
In his past life, he'd obtained this secret formula only after reaching Core Formation, missing the optimal window.
This time, with the divine patterns from the Celestial Emperor's Tome, he'd bypassed that limitation entirely.
Without delay, Ye Fan handed them the Dantian Gate Method口诀. The two clutched it like sacred texts, immediately beginning their cultivation. To them, regaining the ability to cultivate was nothing short of divine grace.
Watching their eager desperation, Ye Fan chuckled. Hadn't I been the same in my past life?
Just then, a servant entered and bowed. "Your Highness, the Emperor summons you."
"Uncle Han?"
Ye Fan nodded. "Prepare my horse. Also, have fresh robes and meals ready for my brothers when they finish cultivating."
"As you command!"
The servant withdrew.
Ye Fan washed up, then deliberately set aside his ornate brocade robes. Instead, he donned a black battle outfit—hand-stitched by Su Xi over the past month. It featured a crimson-black cloak and a back sheath for the Voidstep Sword.
With his hair tied back and the sword secured, his sharp features carried a maturity beyond his years.
At the manor gates, he mounted a spirit-horse. Yang Xiao and Li Zhong followed astride their Waterstrider Rhinoceroses—this time in simple combat attire rather than full armor.
Their procession drew stares as they rode through the capital.
"Look! That's Ye Fan—the kin-slayer who traded his clan's blood for status!"
"Hush! You want to die? That man butchers people like cattle!"
"Tch. Dressed like nobility, but still a monster at heart..."
Mockery trailed them like a foul wind. Ignorant crowds always reveled in self-righteous judgment, mistaking rumors for truth.
Ye Fan kept his horse at a leisurely pace through the bustling streets. He had no interest in correcting fools. Their minds operated on a different plane entirely.
Yang Xiao and Li Zhong, however, glowered. As Core Formation Level Three experts, enduring such insults from commoners grated on their pride.
The Chu Imperial Palace spanned ten square miles of opulent splendor. Even after dismounting, the walk to the Emperor's quarters was considerable.
Most visitors gaped at the grandeur. Ye Fan, having seen countless such palaces in his past life, strolled with casual appreciation—as one might admire a well-kept garden.
Taking a wrong turn, he wandered into an exquisitely manicured courtyard. Guards scrutinized his jade pendant before bowing him through.
He'd barely taken ten steps when a voice like wind chimes rang out:
"You! Come spar with me!"
A girl sprang from a pavilion, practice sword in hand. Her white silk training robes fluttered around a willowy frame. Raven hair cascaded down her back, and her eyes—large, luminous, and brimming with mischief—locked onto him.
The jade pendant at her waist bore the character: Xue.
Even with two lifetimes' experience, Ye Fan had to admit: She's breathtaking.
He inclined his head slightly and kept walking.
"How dare you ignore me?! Stop right there!"
Fragrance preceded her as she materialized in his path, sword tip leveled at his chest.
Ye Fan's cloak stirred. "I'm not a training partner, Princess. You've mistaken me."
"This is the Imperial Palace," she declared, nose scrunching adorably. "When I command you to spar, you spar. Noble sons beg for this privilege!"
Her name clicked: Beigong Xue. The Emperor's youngest daughter—his assigned pupil.
Ye Fan's eyebrow twitched. "Find another partner. I have business with your father."
He sidestepped her.
"Stay!!"
Her blade lashed out like silver lightning.
Ye Fan's footwork—the Nine Void Mirage Steps—blurred. One moment he was there; the next, he'd ghosted past her to the courtyard gate.
Beigong Xue's sword met empty air. By the time she whirled around, only fluttering robes marked where he'd vanished.
"Hmph!" She stomped her foot, tossing the practice sword aside. "Heading toward Father's quarters, are you? Well, we'll see about that!"
Cheeks puffing, she scampered after him.
The Emperor was reviewing a martial manual when Ye Fan entered his study.
"Nephew Ye!" Beigong Hanxiao set the book down warmly. "Come, sit."
"Uncle Han."
Ye Fan took the offered seat without ceremony—a familiarity the Emperor clearly cherished.
"How fares the Ink Prince life? Your mother settling in well?"
"Quite comfortable," Ye Fan grinned. "Though I'll take care not to grow soft."
"Good!" The Emperor pushed the manual toward him. "Tell me what you make of this. A fragmentary Heaven Tier technique acquired at auction today."
Ye Fan scanned the pages. Phoenix Cry in the Rain Sword—Heaven Tier Mid-Grade. He'd encountered the complete version in his past life.
"It's a sword art exclusively for women," he noted.
"What?" The Emperor snatched it back, flipping to the energy circulation diagrams. Sure enough, the meridians specified yin-aligned pathways. "You discerned this in moments... Remarkable."
His admiration deepened—just as the study doors burst open.
In flounced Beigong Xue, all sixteen years of her vibrance condensed into one indignant package.