In the Cultivation World, there exists an unyielding truth etched into the very fabric of existence: "To be weak is to be damned, and strength is the only law that reigns supreme." Its always been that way.
Luo Fan was a young boy born into the Luo Clan in the enigmatic Omni-Realm, a lineage so exalted and unparalleled that its name resonated with the weight of eternity itself. His birth was marked by a visage of supreme perfection—features so refined they seemed carved by the heavens. His crimson eyes burned with an eternal fire, a reflection of blood and unyielding will, while his black hair cascaded like the void, darker than the deepest abyss, a testament to the boundless darkness he embodied.
In the Xuanyuan World, a bustling city teemed with life—cultivators and mortals alike filled the streets, their chatter and footsteps creating a symphony of activity. Above it all, on the third floor of a grand manor, Luo Fan sat, his gaze sweeping over the vibrant scene below. He leisurely enjoyed his meal, the cityscape stretching before him like a living painting.
On the first floor, a young man clad in opulent purple attire entered, his presence commanding attention. Beside him walked a woman adorned in even more extravagant white robes, her face hidden beneath a delicate veil. Two female guards trailed behind, their attire equally lavish, their sharp eyes scanning the surroundings with practiced vigilance.
At that moment, the young woman in white with a delicate veil used spiritual transmission with her guard. "If he dares to pull a trick, kill him in an instant. I will deal with Father myself," she said, her voice cold and commanding.
The young man in purple looked at the young woman and said, "This is the place I told you about, the one with the best view in the capital." The woman in white didn't appreciate it and felt a little annoyed. Then, the young man in purple looked at the waiter with a condescending gaze and said, "I want a room on the third floor, with a view of the city."
The young woman in the white veil looked at him with a hint of disgust, while the waiter replied, "Sorry, but someone is using the third floor right now."
The waiter's polite demeanor hardened, his voice carrying a steely edge as he met the young man in purple's gaze without flinching. "I hope you realize that this manor operates under the Ye Clan's authority," he said, his tone firm and unyielding. "If you act rashly or do anything foolish, you will be executed on the spot."
The veiled woman in white tilted her head slightly, her golden eyes glinting with amusement beneath her veil. This fool truly has no idea where he stands, she thought, her lips curling into a faint, mocking smile. The young man in purple, however, stiffened, his arrogance faltering for a moment as the weight of the waiter's words sank in.
The young man in purple smirked, his confidence returning as he reached into his robe and produced a spirit stone. Though small, no larger than a pebble, its brilliance was undeniable. The air around it shimmered faintly, and the sheer density of spiritual energy radiating from it was enough to make even the veiled woman in white pause, her golden eyes widening slightly beneath her veil.
This fool actually has something of value? she thought, her surprise fleeting but genuine. The spirit stone was a rare treasure in the Xuanyuan Realm, and its worth was beyond measure for a cultivator—a prize that could elevate their power significantly.
However, the waiter's expression remained largely unchanged. Though clearly surprised by the spirit stone, he shook his head firmly. "Sorry, but we must decline," he said, his voice steady despite the weight of the young man's offering.
At that moment, the young man in purple noticed someone pacing nervously in the background. His eyes narrowed as he recognized the figure—it was the Young Master of the Ye Clan. Sweat dripped from the Young Master's forehead, and his pale face was a stark contrast to the composed demeanor expected of someone of his status. He was walking in circles, his movements erratic, as if burdened by something immense.
The young man in purple's demeanor shifted instantly, his arrogance melting into a charming smile. "Young Master Ye!" he called out, his voice dripping with false warmth. The Young Master turned, his eyes widening slightly as he approached, though his unease was palpable.
The veiled woman in white observed the exchange, her golden eyes catching the Young Master's distress. Something is clearly wrong, she thought, her instincts on high alert. Yet, the young man in purple seemed oblivious, his focus solely on trying to impress her, his actions almost pitiful in their desperation.
The young man in purple, emboldened by the Young Master Ye's presence, held up the spirit stone with a triumphant grin. "Young Master Ye, look at this waiter," he said, his voice dripping with mock indignation. "He's making you lose out on a profit!" He waved the stone as if it were the ultimate bargaining chip, his confidence unshaken.
Young Master Ye glanced at the spirit stone, but his expression remained distant, almost disinterested. His attention quickly shifted to the waiter, his voice strained as he asked, "Why aren't you taking him to a table?" Despite his status, his tone lacked its usual authority, and the sweat on his brow only deepened.
The young waiter, calm and composed, bowed respectfully before answering. "Young Master, he requested the third floor," he said, his voice steady but firm.
At those words, Young Master Ye's face turned ashen. His mouth opened slightly, his lips trembling as he stammered, "T...Thi...third floor?" The panic in his voice was unmistakable, and his entire demeanor shifted from uneasy to outright terrified. The mere mention of the third floor seemed to strike a chord of dread within him, as if it carried a weight far beyond what the young man in purple could comprehend.
At that moment, the veiled woman's mind raced, her golden eyes narrowing in thought. What could possibly be on the third floor to terrify Young Master Ye to this extent? she wondered. The fact that he hadn't even acknowledged her presence—something that would have been unthinkable under normal circumstances—only deepened her curiosity. There must be something, or someone, up there that has completely consumed his thoughts.
Young Master Ye, his face pale and his voice trembling, turned to the young man in purple and snapped, "Go away!" His tone was sharp, laced with a fear that even he couldn't fully conceal. The young man in purple blinked, confusion etched across his face, but his pride refused to let him back down. He had come this far to impress the veiled woman, and he wasn't about to leave empty-handed.
Seeing his hesitation, Young Master Ye's voice grew colder, though it still shook with underlying panic. "Don't make me say it again."
Meanwhile, on the third floor, Luo Fan observed the scene with detached amusement. His crimson eyes flickered with interest as they settled on the veiled woman. She's quite beautiful, he thought, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. Without hesitation, he sent a divine transmission to Young Master Ye, his voice echoing in the young master's mind like a command from the heavens. "Bring the woman in the veil up here."
Young Master Ye froze for a moment, his body stiffening as Luo Fan's voice reverberated through his consciousness. He immediately turned to the veiled woman, his tone urgent yet respectful. "You, follow me to the third floor."
The veiled woman's eyes widened slightly beneath her veil, her curiosity piqued. What could possibly be up there? she thought, though she complied without question. As she took a step forward, the young man in purple moved to follow, but Young Master Ye's voice cut through the air like a blade. "Didn't I tell you to go away?"
The young man in purple, now visibly frustrated, demanded, "What does this mean?" But before he could say more, Young Master Ye's qi surged, his power manifesting as a palm-like blast that struck the young man with devastating force. The impact sent him flying nearly ten meters, his body crumpling to the ground as he vomited blood.
The veiled woman's breath hitched, her composure faltering for the briefest moment. She had always known Young Master Ye as a cold, calculating figure, but this outburst was something entirely different. He had lost his temper completely, his actions driven by something far beyond the young man's insolence. What, or who, could inspire such fear and urgency? she wondered, her heart pounding as she followed Young Master Ye toward the third floor.
As they ascended the stairs to the third floor, Young Master Ye suddenly paused, his voice low and hesitant. "Let me give you some advice," he said, his tone carrying an unusual weight. He hesitated again, as if weighing his words carefully, before finally adding, "Nothing. Just remember to be careful... and be mannered."
His cryptic warning only deepened the veiled woman's curiosity. Who could possibly make Young Master Ye act like this? she wondered, her mind racing with possibilities. Whoever awaited her on the third floor was no ordinary figure—perhaps this person could even aid her in her plight. The thought sparked a flicker of hope, though it was tempered by a growing sense of caution. Her father's relentless pressure to force her into a marriage she despised weighed heavily on her, and if this mysterious figure held the power to change her fate, she couldn't afford to miss this opportunity.
When they reached the third floor, Young Master Ye immediately dropped to his knees before the closed door, his head bowed in reverence. The veiled woman's eyes widened slightly beneath her veil, her heart pounding as the door swung open with a soft creak.
"Come in," Luo Fan's voice echoed from within, calm and unhurried, as if the world itself moved at his pace. The veiled woman stepped inside, her gaze immediately drawn to the figure seated at the table. Luo Fan sat with an air of effortless dominance, his crimson eyes glowing faintly as he sipped from a cup of hot milk. His presence was overwhelming, yet strangely serene, as if the very room bent to his will.
Luo Fan's crimson eyes lingered on her for a moment, his gaze piercing yet calm. "9th Princess of Xuanyuan, Ji Qianfan," he said, his voice smooth and unhurried, "why don't you stop hiding your face?" The words hung in the air, their weight undeniable.
Young Master Ye's eyes widened in shock as he glanced at the veiled woman. He had suspected she might be someone of importance, but he never imagined she would be the infamous 9th Princess of the Xuanyuan Empire—the so-called "trash princess" whose name was whispered with disdain throughout the realm. His mind raced, trying to reconcile the rumors with the poised figure before him.
Ji Qianfan, however, remained composed. She reached up and gently removed her veil, revealing a face of breathtaking beauty, her features sharp yet delicate, her golden eyes mirroring Luo Fan's own. Her brown hair cascaded softly, framing her face with an air of elegance. "Then, may I know who you are?" she asked, her tone calm and measured, as if she were speaking to an equal.
Young Master Ye nearly choked on his breath, his heart pounding in his chest. How dare she speak so casually to Young Master Luo? he thought, his mind reeling. He had seen Luo Fan's power firsthand, and the idea of anyone addressing him with such nonchalance was almost unthinkable. Yet, the princess stood there, unflinching, her gaze steady as she awaited Luo Fan's response.
Luo Fan smiled slightly, his crimson eyes locking onto Ji Qianfan's golden ones. In that instant, she felt the world around her grind to a halt. Time itself seemed to freeze, the vibrant colors of the room fading into an oppressive darkness. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding so fiercely it felt as though it might burst from her chest.
She tried to look away, to break free from his gaze, but it was as if her very will had been shackled. His eyes—those burning, eternal crimson orbs—held her captive, their intensity overwhelming. It was as if she were staring into the eyes of a being who existed beyond the boundaries of power itself, someone for whom the concept of limits was meaningless. Those eyes seemed capable of anything, as if they could rewrite reality with a single glance. Her sense of self began to crumble, her existence shrinking into insignificance, as if she were being consumed by the void itself. The darkness around her deepened, swallowing her whole, until she felt as though she were nothing more than a speck of dust in the face of his boundless dominance.
Ji Qianfan's senses snapped back to reality as the oppressive darkness lifted. The room returned to its vibrant state, but her body betrayed her terror. Sweat dripped down her temples, her legs trembled uncontrollably, and her face was pale as a ghost. "I... I..." she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper, her mind still reeling from the experience.
Luo Fan, calm and composed, gestured casually toward the seat across from him. "Well, come here and take a seat," he said, his tone light, almost amused. Ji Qianfan's feet felt as though they were rooted to the ground, but she knew better than to disobey. The terror she had just endured was unlike anything she had ever experienced—a glimpse of pure hell she never wanted to relive.
With great effort, she forced herself to move, each step feeling like an eternity. She sat down in front of Luo Fan, her gaze fixed on the table, unable to meet his eyes. Her mind was a void, devoid of coherent thought, her body still trembling faintly.
Luo Fan leaned back slightly, his crimson eyes studying her. "I heard they call you a trash princess," he said, his voice calm but carrying an edge that made her flinch. Ji Qianfan's face darkened, her heart sinking. It was true—she had been labeled as such her entire life. She had no cultivation talent, her mother was merely a concubine, and her only worth, as far as the world was concerned, was her beauty and figure.
But then Luo Fan continued, his tone shifting slightly. "But surely they are wrong."
Ji Qianfan's head snapped up, her golden eyes widening in shock. Did I mishear him? she thought, her mind struggling to process his words. The entire Xuanyuan Empire had branded her as the "Trash Princess," a title she had long since resigned herself to. Yet here was this enigmatic figure, casually dismissing the label that had defined her existence.
Luo Fan took a slow sip of his milk, his gaze never leaving her. "Ji Qianfan, look at me," he said, his voice firm but not unkind. Ji Qianfan hesitated, her hands trembling as she recalled the abyss she had just escaped. She couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes, the fear still fresh in her mind.
"I promise, I will not scare you," Luo Fan added, his tone softening slightly.
Ji Qianfan knew she couldn't afford to anger him. Swallowing her fear, she slowly raised her eyes, starting from the table and moving upward. Her gaze traveled over his elegant robes, his poised posture, and finally settled on his face. Her breath hitched, her pale cheeks flushing with a faint blush. Her lips parted slightly in awe as she took in his features—supremely refined, almost otherworldly in their perfection.
Luo Fan smirked faintly, his crimson eyes glinting with amusement. "I'm not that scary, am I?" he said, his voice teasing yet gentle.
Ji Qianfan's blush deepened, her golden eyes flickering with a mix of embarrassment and wonder. She struggled to find the right words, her mind still caught between the lingering terror and the unexpected warmth in his gaze.
Luo Fan leaned forward slightly, his expression shifting to one of intrigue. "What if I told you I could grant you cultivation talent?" he asked, his tone casual, as if he were discussing something as simple as the weather.
Ji Qianfan's breath hitched, her golden eyes widening in disbelief. She stared at him, certain she hadn't misheard, but the idea seemed too fantastical to grasp. Grant me cultivation talent? she thought, her mind racing. Is such a thing even possible?
As she processed his words, she realized something else—she was looking directly into his crimson eyes again. But this time, there was no overwhelming darkness, no crushing void. Instead, his eyes were mesmerizing, like twin black holes drawing her in with their endless depth and beauty. She felt no fear, only a strange pull, as if she could lose herself in their allure forever.
Gathering her courage, Ji Qianfan spoke, her voice trembling but resolute. "If you can truly grant me cultivation talent," she said, her golden eyes locking with his, "I will dedicate my life to you. My body, my soul—everything I am will be yours." Her words were filled with determination, her fear of Luo Fan fading as hope began to bloom within her.