Moments later, an elderly man emerged from the depths of the Xia estate. He was slight of build, but his wizened face radiated a shrewd intelligence. Every crease, every wrinkle spoke of a life lived amidst the cutthroat world of Jinhua City's elite. This was no ordinary servant. This was… someone accustomed to navigating treacherous waters with effortless grace.
He approached Xing Jue, his hands clasped before him in a gesture of respect. "Greetings. Might you be a friend of our Young Master?"
"I am," Xing Jue replied eagerly. "Is Si… is he…?" He caught himself just in time, cursing his own lack of decorum.
"Excellent!" the steward exclaimed, his face breaking into a relieved grin. "The heavens have answered our prayers! The Xia family is saved!"
Xing Jue's alarm bells went off. "Saved? What's going on? Did something happen to Siyan?"
"Come, come," the old man urged, grabbing Xing Jue's wrist and practically dragging him towards the sprawling complex. "There's no time to lose! I'll explain everything! "
They hurried through a series of winding corridors and meticulously manicured courtyards, the sounds of chaos growing louder with each step.
They arrived at the heart of the estate.
The scene that greeted Xing Jue's eyes sent a shiver down his spine.
Over twenty cultivators, each radiating an aura of barely restrained power, had gathered in the courtyard. Standing at the head of this menacing group, radiating an almost tangible aura of menace, was an elderly man with a neatly trimmed goatee. Not just any elder, though. This one…he was a Warrior Lord. Mid-stage, if Xing Jue's instincts were correct. And judging by the way the other cultivators deferred to him, he was used to being obeyed.
At the center of this volatile tableau stood Siyan, flanked by two figures Xing Jue assumed to be his parents. The woman was weeping, her pleas lost amidst the rising tension. The man, his features taut with a mixture of fear and defiance, was trying, unsuccessfully, to shield Siyan from the goatee elder's intense gaze.
"Last chance, Xia Sheng," the elder said, his voice deceptively calm. "Hand over the deed…or your son pays the price. Your choice."
Siyan stepped forward, his chin held high, his eyes blazing with a fire that belied his youthful features. "Father, you can't! Don't give it to them! Let me handle this! They won't dare…"
His mother grabbed his arm, pulling him back. "No! Xia Sheng! Don't listen to him! He's just a child! Please…we can't…"
Siyan's father placed a comforting hand on his wife's shoulder, his expression grim. After a moment, he reached into his robes and pulled out a rolled-up parchment. The deed.
A cruel smile spread across the elder's face. "That's a good lad. Always knew you were a sensible man, Xia Sheng. A piece of paper for your son's life? Now that's a bargain!"
He took a step toward Siyan's father, his hand outstretched, ready to claim his prize.
And then…
Siyan lunged. He snatched the deed from his father's grasp and shoved it into his own robes. He stood there, chest heaving, a lone figure of defiance against an overwhelming tide. "Come and get it, old man," he spat, his voice shaking with a mixture of anger and fear. "Unless…you're afraid of a little bloodshed."
Xing Jue, watching the unfolding drama with a mixture of horror and grudging admiration, finally understood.
Two weeks ago, around the time of Xing Jue's arrival at the Training Pagoda, the Xia Family had been embroiled in a bitter feud with a rival clan, the Wang family. It had all started innocently enough, a business deal gone sour. Or so the rumors claimed. The stakes, fueled by greed and escalating pride, had quickly spiraled out of control, until both families had staked their entire fortunes on a single, reckless gamble.
The Wang family had cheated. And won.
Siyan's father, devastated, took ill. Upon receiving news of his father's declining health, Siyan, abandoning his studies at the YuFeng Pavilion, has rushed back home to confront the perpetrators. He'd stormed the Wang family estate, beaten their patriarch within an inch of his life…and taken back his family's stolen deed. He'd then chosen to remain in Jinhua City, protecting his family from potential retribution, sacrificing his own future…for theirs.
The goatee elder, his amusement replaced by icy fury, fixed his gaze on Siyan. "So eager to die, Little One?" He lashed out, his arm a blur, his palm crackling with lethal energy. "Very well. I'll grant you your wish."
Siyan, refusing to back down, met the elder's attack head-on. He unleashed his most powerful technique, a Xuan-rank offensive technique known as "Blazing Fist." Flames erupted from his fist, engulfing his entire arm in a roaring inferno.
"Fool," the elder scoffed, amused by the boy's audacity. He channeled his True Qi, his palm glowing with an ominous purple light. Their attacks clashed.
The courtyard erupted in a blinding flash of light and heat. Siyan's parents were thrown back as if struck by an invisible giant, their cries lost amidst the chaotic symphony of destruction.
Siyan, despite his valiant effort, stood no chance. He was thrown through the air like a rag doll, crashing into a stone pillar. He crumpled to the ground, a broken doll amidst the wreckage of his family's courtyard. A single word escaped his lips, a choked gasp, barely audible above the ringing in his ears.
"Xing Jue…"
The goatee elder stood over the now-unconscious Siyan, a triumphant sneer twisting his lips. "Give it to me, boy," he hissed, his voice like venom. "Unless you want to…" He paused, letting the implied threat hang in the air.
Siyan's father, his heart breaking at the sight of his son lying broken and bloodied upon the courtyard stones, made a decision. A decision no father should ever have to make. "Yuer…" he whispered, his voice hoarse with barely-suppressed anguish. "Give him…give him the deed. It's just…a piece of paper. The Xia family will…we'll find a way… Please…"
Siyan, his face pale beneath the grime and blood, forced a smile. "Father, I…I can't," he croaked, his eyes locking with his father's. "It's…all you've ever worked for… I won't let…them…take it…"
Siyan's father stared at his son, his heart swelling with a mixture of pride and terror. He'd always been…stern…with Siyan. Demanding. He'd pushed him relentlessly, criticized him mercilessly, hoping against hope that some of his own tenacity, his own ruthless ambition, would rub off on his son.
After all, Siyan was the sole heir to the Xia family legacy, a legacy built on blood, sweat, and more than a few…questionable business deals.
He'd despaired, truly despaired, at Siyan's gentle nature, his aversion to conflict, his…soft heart. As a last resort, he'd poured a small fortune into securing a place for his son at the YuFeng Pavilion, praying that the harsh realities of cultivation, the constant threat of violence, would forge Siyan into the man he needed to be. A leader. A survivor.
And it had worked. Sort of. Siyan had excelled in his martial arts training, exceeding even his father's wildest expectations. Yet, beneath it all…that soft heart remained. A liability, his father had thought, a fatal flaw in an otherwise promising heir.
Until now.
Now, staring down death itself, Siyan had found his steel.
"Yuer…" he said, his voice thick with emotion, "Even if…even if we lose everything…it doesn't matter. You… You are my son. And that's…enough. Give him…give him what he wants."
Siyan felt a tear roll down his cheek. He quickly brushed it away, ashamed of his weakness. His father…proud of him? He'd craved those words, those simple words of affirmation, for so long… He'd convinced himself… that such affection… wasn't meant for someone like him. How…how could his father love…a disappointment?
He'd been wrong
His father… did love him.
In that moment, Siyan made a decision. A decision fueled not by logic or ambition but by something far more powerful: love…and a fierce determination to protect the one person who truly mattered.
He glared at the looming figure of the elder, his voice regaining its strength. "Never," he spat, his voice laced with defiance. "You want it, old man? You come and take it. But know this: I am an Outer Sect Disciple of the YuFeng Pavilion. And should you harm a hair on my head …the consequences… will be…dire."
The elder burst into laughter, a harsh, grating sound that echoed ominously through the courtyard. "The YuFeng Pavilion? You think...that pathetic excuse for a sect...holds any sway here? Boy, I came here prepared to wipe out your entire bloodline. You think I fear…repercussions?"
He raised his glowing fist, his face twisted into a mask of pure rage. He wouldn't be denied, not now, not when he was this close to victory.
"You want to die, Little One? Very well. I'll indulge you."
He slammed his fist toward Siyan's unguarded head.
The courtyard erupted in a deafening explosion of sound and light.
And then…silence.
The dust settled.
A lone figure stood between the goatee elder and Siyan, who, now miraculously unharmed, stared up at his savior.
It was Xing Jue.
He'd caught the elder's fist.
"So you don't fear the YuFeng Pavilion?" Xing Jue said, his voice dangerously calm. His grip tightened on the goatee elder's wrist. "Perhaps…this will change your mind."
And then, with a speed that defied comprehension, he pivoted, his leg a blur of motion, and slammed his heel into the elder's chest.
The impact flung the goatee elder back, sending him crashing into a cluster of startled cultivators. He staggered to his feet, his arms shaking, his eyes wide with disbelief. This…this wasn't supposed to happen. Who was this kid?
Before he could regain his bearings, a figure detached itself from the crowd.
It was a thin, unremarkable man in his mid-forties, his features sharp, his eyes radiating a shrewd intelligence. Wang Buren, the patriarch of the Wang family. He approached Xing Jue, his hands clasped before him in a placating gesture.
"Greetings, young warrior," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "Such skill! Such power! I believe…there's been…a misunderstanding."
Xing Jue glanced at him, his expression laced with disdain. "Do tell," he drawled.
Wang Buren, undeterred by Xing Jue's obvious hostility, pressed on, his tone carefully neutral "I'm sure…a disciple of your…caliber…understands the importance…of fairness. We're not here to…rob the Xia family, young warrior. We simply want…what is rightfully ours. This deed…it belongs to the Wang Family. Return it…and we'll be on our way. No harm done."
Xing Jue arched an eyebrow, his lips curling into a predatory smile. "Really? Is that what happened?"
Wang Buren, heartened by Xing Jue's apparent willingness to see reason, hastened to elaborate. "Indeed! Indeed! The Xia boy…he stole it from us! It was a simple…business transaction gone awry. A misunderstanding! I assure you, if they simply return the deed… well, I'm feeling generous today. Let's just say…the Xia family's…losses will be…compensated. Handsomely."
"Hmm," Xing Jue mused, his gaze sweeping over the assembled cultivators, each a predator in their own right, now subtly shifting their positions, their eyes flickering between Xing Jue and their leader. His smile widened, revealing a hint of something cold and dangerous lurking beneath the surface. "About that..." he said, his voice soft, almost a whisper, "I don't think that's going to happen."