Chapter Six: The Turning Point

Ye Guying had always walked with impunity in Ye Prefecture, yet upon arriving in Ji Prefecture, he was first slighted by some insignificant city lord, and then fiercely berated by Ye Gucheng. Now, this dull-faced lad before him was even more outrageous—daring to hurl insults at him in front of all his brothers. Who did this boy think he was? Did he imagine himself to be Ye Gucheng, Guying’s own elder brother?

Stunned by Che Wuyou’s invective, Ye Guying sat speechless atop his horse for a long while. When he finally came to his senses, his face had turned an ashen blue with rage. He howled, “Ah, ah, ah, I’m going to burst with anger! You little brat, you—ah, ah, ah, you’re driving me mad!” His eyes widened, his hands flailed wildly before his chest, and for a moment he simply didn’t know how to deal with the boy.

Che Wuyou, witnessing the bearded man’s almost possessed fury, was taken aback and even a little frightened. He retreated several steps until there was a safe distance between them, locking his gaze warily on the fierce man, bracing for whatever might come next.

After flailing his arms madly for a while, Ye Guying felt his mood lighten just a fraction. His eyes blazing with ferocity, he shouted at Che Wuyou, “Hey, you little fool! What did you just call me—what did you call me?” His voice rose ever higher, as if on the verge of another outburst.

Che Wuyou, seeing the bearded man’s menacing expression, felt his heart clench, but with the man’s aggressive questioning, he had no choice but to answer. Mustering his courage after a moment’s hesitation, he stammered, “I—I called you an old fool! ...You told me to call you that, I didn’t want to.” He looked at the bearded man with an air of innocence, as if to say, “This time, it really wasn’t my fault.”

“You—you little blockhead! I—I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you!” Ye Guying was nearly beside himself with rage, his lips trembling as he roared. Suddenly, he swept his large hand through the air, forming a fist so swiftly and forcefully that a loud bang split the air—a crackling burst of energy resounding from the act itself.

Startled by this display, Che Wuyou instinctively prepared to distance himself further from such a dangerous man. But just then, a flash of murderous intent crossed Ye Guying’s face. With a sudden, upward motion of both hands, it was as if an invisible grip seized Che Wuyou, who found himself hurtling uncontrollably toward Ye Guying.

Ye Guying’s arms clamped around Che Wuyou like iron bands, his bloodshot eyes glaring at the boy. He hated this little fool to the core—how dare he humiliate him so? Today, no one would be able to save this child’s life. He wanted to tear Che Wuyou to pieces, to vent his fury. But then he thought, letting this little fool die so easily would be letting him off too lightly.

His fierce gaze darted around Che Wuyou, and suddenly Ye Guying sent forth a strand of spiritual consciousness, plunging directly into Che Wuyou’s mind-sea. Che Wuyou, unaware of what was happening, was struck by a sudden chill. Then, he felt his awareness separate from his body, and in a blink, he found himself in a world frozen in ice—a world of piercing cold.

He tried to shrink back instinctively, but his body felt frozen stiff, unable to move a muscle. Desperately, he looked around, only to find the place utterly strange and desolate, not a soul in sight.

Inwardly, he wondered where he had ended up—he had never seen this place before. It was silent, with nothing but the faint sounds of his own breathing and heartbeat. He didn’t know how much time had passed before waves of negative emotion began to gather, enveloping him from all sides.

The cold seemed only to deepen, relentless waves of soul-crushing chill assaulting his mind, gnawing at his nerves. Che Wuyou’s consciousness began to blur, fear gripped him, and he cried out for his mother, but no answer ever came.

He felt as if he had wandered into an abandoned world, growing ever more lonely, ever more despairing, his mind slipping into oblivion. Perhaps release was near. Though so young he could scarcely grasp life and death, he suddenly understood that he was close to dying.

Just as his consciousness was about to crumble, a warm current surged from an immeasurable distance, breaking through the cold and arriving at his side in an instant, swirling gently around him.

In a daze, Che Wuyou felt enveloped in comforting warmth, as if nestled in his mother’s embrace. After a long while, he slowly opened his eyes, and miraculously, the surrounding chill had melted away. Though the world around him was still strange and desolate, it no longer filled him with helplessness.

Opposite him, the burly, bearded Ye Guying appeared. Che Wuyou stared in shock—how had Ye Guying come to be in this barren world as well? Did he bring him here? Despite his aversion to the man, he couldn’t resist asking, “Where is this? Why are you here too, old...?”

Ye Guying was astonished that Che Wuyou had managed to break free of his spiritual assault—had he not used enough force? By rights, the boy should have been powerless to resist; even those at the Return to Origin or Core Formation levels would be helpless under such an attack.

Seeing Che Wuyou looking at him, Ye Guying stopped pondering what had just happened and instead fixed him with a fierce glare. “Little fool, admit you’re a worthless idiot and I’ll take you out of this dreadful place—grant you release. If you refuse, you’ll remain here forever.”

Che Wuyou realized all he’d suffered was this vile man’s doing. He stared blankly at Ye Guying, and recalling the ordeal, shivered involuntarily. The thought of enduring it again was unbearable. Lips quivering, he stammered, “I—I am—”

Seeing the boy about to submit, Ye Guying nodded knowingly, a flash of murderous intent crossing his rough features. Such a waste was a drain on resources—what use keeping him alive?

But just as Ye Guying’s killing intent surged, a youthful, impassioned voice suddenly burst out: “I’m your grandfather, you old fool, you old good-for-nothing! One day I’ll be a thousand, ten thousand times stronger than you. Hmph, what’s so great about you anyway?” Che Wuyou, who had meant to yield, suddenly remembered that he’d only called this old fool a name and had been tortured nearly to death for it. And now the man was threatening him again. The more he thought, the angrier he grew, and he decided to go all in—scolding the old fool thoroughly to get his own back.

Ye Guying was taken aback; he hadn’t expected this at all. Only after a long pause did he recover. The little fool was cursing him again, yet this time, curiously, he felt no urge to strike. For some reason, he didn’t want this child to die.

Though hot-tempered, Ye Guying was a man who acted on impulse. Twice now, he’d harbored murderous thoughts toward a mere child, and twice the boy had survived—even escaping the dreaded spiritual assault, one of the most dangerous techniques in the cultivation world. That the child could survive such a test was surely fate.

Ye Guying withdrew his spiritual sense from Che Wuyou’s mind-sea, and Che Wuyou felt himself return to the real world. Though onlookers didn’t know why Che Wuyou was still alive, they were certain that with Ye Guying’s notorious temper, the boy would not escape unscathed. In an era where strength reigned supreme and the strong brooked no insult, even those with compassion among the immortals would not allow themselves to be humiliated—let alone a power like the Ye family.

Yet Ye Guying regarded Che Wuyou with an uncharacteristic calm. After a long silence, he finally said, “Since you have such spirit, I’ll spare your life. If you survive this calamity, you may one day come to Ye Prefecture and seek your revenge on me, Ye Guying.” With that, he spurred his horse and rode off without a backward glance. It was not that he wished to leave his brothers, nor that he was so troubled as to flee the scene, but rather that he sensed the faint stirrings of a breakthrough and needed to return home to seclude himself. Truly, Ye Guying was a rare talent—refining his heart amidst the tumult of the world, ever seeking the moment of transcendence.

Ye Gucheng, watching coldly, narrowed his eyes as he saw Che Wuyou escape the onslaught of Ye Guying’s spiritual attack. “What just happened? How could this child break free of Guying’s assault? Did Guying hold back? But I know him too well—he never shows mercy. From the strength I sensed, even a Core Formation cultivator would have perished. For this child—who has no foundation in cultivation—to survive, could there be something unusual about his mind-sea?”

With a thought, Ye Gucheng sent his own spiritual sense probing into Che Wuyou’s mind-sea. After a while, his face showed shock—it was spiritual power. The boy’s spirit was so vast, yet he could not discern whether it had yet taken form. After probing further, he could only shake his head. What a pity—such a good seedling, yet his innate talent was so ordinary. Even with a great teacher, he feared the boy would never advance far.

Believing Che Wuyou to be an ordinary child, Ye Gucheng felt a pang of regret but gave the matter no further thought. Little did he know that this boy was the very same Che Wuyou who was betrothed to his own family’s young lady. If only he knew—what would he think then?

To Che Wuyou, the day’s events felt like a dream. The image of the wild-eyed, bearded man sent chills through his heart. The more he thought on it, the worse he felt—head pounding, body wracked with nameless discomfort. Clutching his head in pain, he staggered a few steps before the world spun and he lost all sense of place.

From that day on, Che Wuyou, once healthy and robust, was stricken with a mysterious illness that left him weak and frail. Despite Lady Ye Hongyu’s efforts in seeking out famous physicians, his condition showed no sign of improvement, leaving her anxious day and night.

Watching Che Wuyou waste away, his parents were at their wits’ end. Che Hongshi, feeling he had long neglected his son, now looked upon the boy’s gaunt form with sorrow, unsure how much longer he could survive. Though he had never paid much heed to his younger son, after all, they were still father and son.