The next day, dawn broke slowly over the Demon Imperial City, spreading a tenuous mist that seemed to dance among the rooftops of the aristocratic residences.
After all the dealings with the Duke Huai Palace had been resolved, everything seemed perfectly at peace...
The guards of the noble families were alert, but no longer paranoid. The servants moved fluidly, almost tranquilly, facing the new day with less fear and more normalcy.
Throughout the city, small shops opened their doors, releasing aromas of freshly heated tea, ground medicinal herbs, polished wood, and hot bread.
Birds flew low, singing in soft intervals, as if they too sensed that the heavy atmosphere of political warfare had finally dissipated.
Inside the Yun Clan residence, this breath of tranquility was even more pronounced.
A fresh breeze swept through the central courtyard, rustling the jade leaves of the garden well-tended by the servants.
Ren Zu threw himself into the chair of the family pavilion he had used in recent days and let out a deep sigh, resting his elbow on the table while massaging his own neck. The wood was still cold from the morning air, and the silence of the pavilion contrasted violently with the chaos his mind had carried since he left the arms of the Little Demon Empress just a few minutes ago.
The soft light filtered through the silk curtains, illuminating his face unevenly and highlighting the slight shadow under his eyes, not from fatigue, but from... excess activity during the night.
His lips curved discreetly.
It was, definitely, a "pleasant" problem.
He leaned back, closing his eyes for a moment.
Today should be the day of the official marriage announcement, after all, three days had already passed since the Little Demon Empress dealt with the traitors and promised that, at the end of that period, she would make everything public.
But he, in the end, was there... as always, waiting to attend to people seeking his medical skills, exchanging treatments for resources, living that almost mundane routine.
And this was not neglect. Nor stubbornness. Nor caprice.
The truth behind it was simple. Brutally simple.
And, precisely for that reason, profoundly logical.
In recent days, he had set aside time for something he never imagined doing so soon: studying politics. He started simply. His father accompanied him on every visit, every diagnosis, and every treatment, observing attentively the way he worked as a doctor. In the intervals, he spoke about laws, strategies, principles of leadership, and above all, about the silent cruelties involved in the act of governing, those that did not appear in books but shaped the true structure of power in this world.
But it was only yesterday that he decided to delve deeply into the subject. He took various volumes from both the library of the Illusory Demon Royal Family and the private archives of the Yun family. Thanks to his intellect, a single glance was enough to perfectly memorize each page, an absurd advantage that accelerated his progress. In a few hours, he had devoured nearly thousands of books, absorbing advanced concepts, theories, histories, and methods of government. When he finally stopped, he realized he had become surprisingly proficient in politics, more so than many who had dedicated years to the same art.
Now, he could intuitively understand the mechanisms behind any policy, governmental system, or power dynamic, and more importantly, he knew how to manipulate them. With the knowledge he brought from his past life, where he had studied psychology in depth, combined with the reading of all those books, something in him simply aligned.
He came to possess an instinctive mastery of political skills: the precise choice of words, the rhythm of speech, the appropriate body language for each situation. He knew when to show firmness, when to retreat, when to provoke, when to silence. Each gesture of his sent exactly the signal he desired, without waste, without hesitation.
This almost natural refinement granted him an overwhelming advantage. In any political scenario, whether facing allies, enemies, or figures of authority, he could place himself in the superior position, guiding conversations, intentions, and decisions as if pulling invisible strings. Regardless of who the target of his talents was, success seemed to simply follow his steps.
It was no exaggeration to say that, currently, he is capable of always making the most advantageous decision to promote his agenda, expand his influence, anticipate political crises before they even arise, and neutralize them with precision. This "talent," as he himself called it, operates as a true ultimate political mechanism: he acts, reacts, and conducts his own politics with impeccable technique, perfect timing, and a deep understanding of the gears that sustain any government or power structure.
Based on his new understanding of politics, he knew that the best path would be to accumulate more influence as an "accessible person," using his medical skills as a bridge for that. Only then did he fully understand what his father meant when he explained those concepts to him so deeply.
After all, at the moment, he was the future husband of the Little Demon Empress and the strongest profound practitioner in the entire Illusory Demon Realm, titles that, by themselves, created a natural distance between him and the common people. In the eyes of those people, he lived in a world completely different from theirs.
And, to make matters worse, all they knew about him were stories: the young man considered trash who suddenly saved the Little Demon Empress from death; the "miracle" of receiving the favor of the Divine Golden Crow God; the instant leap to power and status by becoming the future husband of the realm's ruler; and, as if that weren't enough, the fact of mastering medicine to the point of being consecrated as the best doctor in the entire Illusory Demon Realm.
What really mattered now was influence, roots, bonds that extended beyond his name and his strength. And that required time, strategy, and patience.
For that reason, he decided that the best was to wait and build a solid network within the various influential families of the Illusory Demon Realm. He didn't need formal alliances, at least not yet; presence, precise favors, opportune medical interventions, conversations placed at the right moment... were enough.
Over time, each family would come to see him not as the future consort of the Little Demon Empress, but as someone whose support was worth gold, someone whose goodwill was a blessing, and whose displeasure could mean a political disaster.
In this way, even if he ascended to the Realm of the Gods in the future, he could leave without worries. After all, everything he conquered here would leave deep marks; influence enough to make anyone think twice before poking the hornet's nest he would be leaving behind.
But the base of this plan was not just the nobility. He also wanted to conquer the common people, and that would make any influence even more solid and efficient.
Not with demonstrations of power, but with "humanity." With care. It was enough to be in the right places, treat the wounded without charging, rescue forgotten villages, resolve small conflicts that the nobles ignored. In a world governed by strength and fear, simple gestures transformed into legends. And legends, repeated by the people's mouths, shaped reputations much more resistant than any imperial decree.
Well, he had devised a very good plan yesterday. Currently, he had gained several favors from more than half of the Guardian Families, and the rest were under the Little Demon Empress's slave mark—it was already a great start.
All he needed was time.
With that in mind, he asked the Little Demon Empress to postpone the announcement of their marriage. After hearing his plans to deal with possible "future traitors," she agreed without any hesitation.
But there was another reason.
A much simpler reason... and much more human.
The Little Demon Empress wanted to enjoy these days with him as well, without anyone bothering them regarding duties...
Ren Zu opened his eyes and cast a calm glance toward the pavilion's entrance. With his spiritual perception covering the entire Yun Family territory, it was easy to identify the presences approaching. Some visitors brought the sick directly to be treated, while others followed a procedure similar to that of the Su Family, announcing themselves first and awaiting instructions.
"Today will be a long day..." He murmured, adjusting his sleeves.
He straightened his posture, pushing his body forward calmly. The white sleeve, impeccable as freshly fallen snow, slid smoothly down his arm as he stood up.
The morning breeze entered through the partially open door, moving the loose strands of his black hair, long and straight like spilled ink. The light bathed his face, enhancing the stark contrast between his soft features and the elegant coldness of his deep black eyes.
Ren Zu stretched while his spiritual sense had already "read" everything around; therefore, he was not surprised when his father entered the pavilion accompanied by two people.
Yun Qinghong entered first, followed by a familiar man. Beside him walked Yan Zijing, Patriarch of the Yan Family; an imposing figure, about one meter and ninety tall, with a slender body, yet forged like a blade hardened by the fire of countless battles. The short beard, black with discreet silver threads at the ends, outlined a face of severe expression, though not hostile. His narrow eyes, as dark as polished obsidian, had the sharpness of a freshly sharpened spear. Tall, solid, with broad shoulders and firm posture, he wore a dark gray hanfu adorned with silver lines that descended in longilinear patterns, evoking the image of countless raised spears.
Accompanying them came Yan Chengkong, the young Patriarch of the Yan Family, at the peak of his twenty-three years. He was almost as tall as his father, with broad shoulders that seemed made to bear the weight of a heavy spear. Under the dark blue linen tunic fitted to his body and reinforced with light metal plates on the forearms and chest, defined muscles revealed themselves from continuous practice of martial arts. His face possessed a striking and austere beauty, with sharp features and impeccable symmetry: firm jaw, straight nose like the shaft of a weapon, and lips that often curved into a confident smile. The black hair reached his shoulders, tied loosely with a red ribbon, allowing some strands to fall naturally. The eyes, inherited from his father, were as dark as polished coal, yet illuminated by a vibrant spark of youthful ambition.
Ren Zu recognized them immediately. He remembered seeing them a few times in his predecessor's memories; moreover, the Yan Family had been one of the few that positioned themselves alongside the Yun Family against Duke Huai and his traitors. From what he knew, the Yan Family was an entirely human clan, proud and nicknamed the "Divine Spear Clan" due to the unparalleled mastery they possessed in that weapon. From the patriarch to the youngest disciples, all wielded the spear as an extension of their own soul, cultivating the renowned [Imperious Spear Art], a legacy that shaped the family's identity.
They maintained a close and genuine relationship with the Yun Family, an alliance forged over generations through mutual respect and shared valuation of martial honor. Although they were considered the weakest among the twelve Guardian Families, a consequence of concentrating their resources on the perfection of martial art rather than seeking raw profound power, their reputation remained immaculate.
Still, they were widely recognized as the best spear users in the entire Illusory Demon Realm, and it would be a lie to say that this did not arouse his interest. Although he preferred the sword for mastering the [Limitless Sword Art], he always felt that the path of the spear would suit him better, especially considering his terrifying physical attributes. However, until now, he had never had the opportunity to truly train in that art.
Yun Qinghong approached with tranquil steps.
"Zu'er," he said, with a slight nod, before extending his arm in an elegant gesture. "These are Yan Zijing and Yan Chengkong; they were telling me they need your medical skills..."
Ren Zu nodded to his father, his black eyes, deep, silent, but laden with the natural authority he had acquired in recent days, respectfully appreciating each of the visitors before his head inclined in an impeccable greeting.
"Patriarch Yan. Young Patriarch Yan." His voice was steady, courteous, refined: "I think this is the first time we speak formally; welcome to the Yun Clan."
Yan Zijing was the first to respond, inclining his head slightly with calculated but genuine respect:
"Nephew Yun, I believe this is indeed the first time. Feel free to call me Uncle Yan; your father and I have a long friendship." He said, his voice deep like vibrating metal. "The honor is ours. The Yan Family has always held the Yun Family in high regard... and from everything I've heard about your ability, it is a privilege to finally meet you in person."
Beside him, Yan Chengkong straightened his back, cupping his hands in a respectful gesture.
"Brother Ren Zu," he said with irreproachable respect: "It is a pleasure to meet you in person; I've heard your great name in recent days and had the opportunity to see you in action on that day of the Coronation Ceremony; you have my deepest admiration. I sincerely thank you for receiving us this morning. Your time is valuable, so we are even more grateful for allowing us to bother you so early."
Ren Zu received the words from both without showing surprise or vanity; he merely let a light smile curve his lips.
"Uncle Yan, Brother Chengkong," he responded, adjusting the form of address without the slightest hesitation, as if the familiarity suited them naturally. "Your words are too generous. Still... I am honored."
He gestured gently with his free hand, indicating the chairs arranged around the dark wooden table.
"Please, sit down. You need not worry about the time or the inconvenience..."
Yan Zijing reciprocated with the rigidity worthy of his position, while the young Chengkong inclined his body slightly, maintaining a sincere respect that almost betrayed the evident admiration in his gaze.
The pavilion was simple but harmonious. In its center was the square table of dark wood, delicately carved at the edges with traditional patterns in the shape of long clouds. The chairs matched the ancient style, with high backs and narrow arms slightly curved. The morning light rested on the polished surface like a thin veil of gold.
As soon as each visitor took their seat, Ren Zu turned his face slightly.
"Ying Su," he called, in a soft tone, but one that crossed the pavilion with precision.
A servant appeared almost instantly, head bowed, silent steps.
"Bring more tea..." he ordered. "And the good ones."
"Yes, Young Patriarch."
While Ying Su withdrew, Ren Zu turned his attention back to the two visitors with the impeccable composure he had been developing since diving headfirst into political studies.
Yun Qinghong waited until everyone was settled, only then allowing the comfortable silence to last long enough to make the transition between the initial cordiality and the true reason for the visit. His posture was relaxed, but his experienced, logical, incisive eyes shone with that typical subtlety he used when he wished to conduct a conversation without direct confrontations.
He ran his hand over the smooth surface of the table, as if merely appreciating the polished texture of the wood, before speaking in a casual, almost distracted tone:
"It's been many years since the last time the Yan Clan needed assistance in internal matters..."
It was a simple phrase. Superficial. But anyone accustomed to political dynamics would perfectly understand that it was not a common comment, as it served as a way to break the initial silence before a formal request, leaving the one who would make such a request quite comfortable to do so...
Yan Zijing caught the intention immediately. The way his rigid shoulders relaxed for a brief second made it clear that he expected exactly that opening. He placed his hand on the table, his long and firm fingers forming a discreet gesture of respect, but also of determination.
"Patriarch Yun..." he said sincerely: "Indeed, our Family has always avoided bothering others. But this time... it's different."
The penetrating gaze he cast at Ren Zu was laden with weight, as if analyzing not just the young man, but all the sinister and silent power he represented.
Yan Zijing straightened his posture, nodding once, as if making the final decision at that exact moment.
"In fact, Nephew Yun..." he used the familiar address without hesitation: "The reason we came in person is simple."
He took a deep breath.
"I would like to ask you to help Chengkong... by opening some of his 'profound entrances.'"
Yun Qinghong showed no surprise. Ren Zu, even less.
He understood perfectly the almost absurd value of someone capable of opening 'profound entrances.'
It was common knowledge that the number of inherently open 'profound entrances' essentially determines how high someone can reach in their life, as it is extremely difficult to open 'profound entrances' after birth. None of the following factors can be absent: extremely advanced miraculous medicine, chance, and luck. Using external forces to open 'profound entrances' carries extremely high risks, as even the smallest error can cause irreparable damage to the Profound Veins.
He had the ability to open profound entrances with just a casual finger! The One-Finger Profound Opening is the supreme technique in the medical field. With this technique, one can quickly open a profound practitioner's entrance in the postnatal period with just a finger. Unless one has extremely deep knowledge of the human body and has reached the pinnacle of medical proficiency, performing this would definitely be impossible.
Basically, what he had in his hands was not just a rare technique; it was a privilege that permanently altered a person's cultivation potential, something that even high-level spiritual resources could not reproduce. This made his skill one of the most coveted in the entire Illusory Demon Realm.
In the specific case of the Yan Family, the request made even more sense.
The Yan Clan was known for following the Path of the Spear in a pure and unwavering manner. This meant that their cultivators prioritized technique, martial precision, and refined physical training; attributes that required time, discipline, and stable cultivation, but which often left them one step behind the other Guardian Families, who divided their resources between profound arts and advancement in the profound path.
Therefore, a permanent improvement in cultivation speed had gigantic weight for them. It would not change who they were, but it would reduce the distance separating them from more powerful clans, allowing their specialized lineage to continue growing without stagnating.
And when it came to choosing who should receive such a benefit, the answer was obvious.
Yan Chengkong was the future patriarch of the clan, direct heir to Yan Zijing, and a young man whose martial base had already been shaped with extreme care. Investing in him meant investing in the future of the entire family. Moreover, allowing the successor to carry enhanced talent was a guarantee of internal stability and greater external prestige, something any sensible leader would seek to ensure.
"I know it's a big request," Yan Zijing continued, without beating around the bush now. "And I know very well what it means. Opening profound entrances is a benefit that lasts a lifetime, something that permanently alters cultivation speed."
He paused. A heavy, almost ceremonial pause.
"...and I also know that the price for this kind of assistance is astronomical."
The words were not flattery. They were the objective acknowledgment of a fact.
Yan Zijing knew exactly what he was asking. And he knew even more the type of person to whom he was asking.
He continued:
"But I will not dare to be stingy. Not before someone whose medical talent, profound power, and future position surpass any standard this patriarch has ever seen."
His gaze rested briefly on the jade ring on his own finger, as if reminding himself of the responsibility he carried as patriarch before turning back to Ren Zu.
"You are the strongest profound practitioner in this Realm... and the future husband of the Little Demon Empress. It would be stupidity on my part to try to bargain with you."
Yan Chengkong, beside him, remained motionless, but the tension in his jaw betrayed the mix of expectation and self-control. He knew how rare and valuable that kind of help was and how much it meant for his father to come ask in person.
Yan Zijing then concluded with a firm and absolutely clear tone:
"If you accept, Nephew Yun, be assured that the Yan Clan will give everything necessary. Resources, treasures, favors, future obligations... whatever you ask, we will deliver."
When Yan Zijing finished, the pavilion plunged into a brief silence, not heavy, but deliberate, as if he himself were allowing the atmosphere to "breathe" before responding.
Then, Ren Zu sighed.
"Patriarch Yan...." He began, his voice low, calm, boundlessly secure. "Before anything else, allow me to assure something."
His eyes shone under the morning light, so black and deep that it was difficult to discern where the gaze ended and the intention began.
"I would be unfair and indelicate if I showed preference for one family without reason." Ren Zu crossed his hands on the dark wooden table: "When I treated the Su Family and the Under Heaven Family, in both cases, I opened three profound entrances for free. It was my way of thanking the support they offered my family when the Imperial City was in crisis."
He obviously would not reveal the whole truth about having decided to do this with the Su Family to heal the old patriarch. As for the Under Heaven Family, he also coincidentally opened three 'profound entrances'....
Yun Qinghong inclined his head slightly, approving the statement.
Ren Zu continued:
"In the same way, I would never place the Yan Clan in an inferior position."
Yan Zijing let out a slow breath, like someone receiving exactly the response he expected, but did not dare presume.
Ren Zu then allowed a minimal smile.
"I can open three profound entrances for Brother Chengkong... for free. Consider this the same gesture I offered to the other clans that stood by the Yun Family."
Yan Chengkong blinked, surprised for the first time, before forcing his body to remain motionless within etiquette.
But then Ren Zu raised a finger, signaling that he had not finished yet.
"However..."
The word did not come as a cold demand, but as a door being calmly opened.
"...if Patriarch Yan wishes me to open more than that, then I will need something."
Yan Zijing did not back down. On the contrary: he leaned slightly forward, attentive.
Ren Zu rested his arm on the chair's backrest, a posture too relaxed for someone dealing with such a large request, but it was exactly that confidence that made him frightening.
"I don't want profound treasures," he said, dismissing the hypothesis with a gentle gesture of his hand. "Nor resources, nor political favors."
He turned his head, allowing the morning light to cross his black hair.
"The only thing I ask..."
His eyes met Yan Chengkong's, and then the patriarch's.
"...is to have the opportunity to look at the Yan Clan's Spear Art."
Yan Zijing remained absolutely motionless for an instant. His eyes widened almost imperceptibly. The shock that crossed his face did not come from the difficulty of the request, nor from some kind of affront... but precisely from the opposite.
The request was too simple.
Simple... and, paradoxically, heavy as a mountain.
Ren Zu did not demand profound treasures, nor political favors, nor strategic benefits, everything someone of his level would normally ask for in the face of a request as valuable as opening 'profound entrances.' On the contrary: he deliberately refused any high payment and made it clear that he would do the same as he did for the Su Family and the Under Heaven Family. Three profound entrances, for free. Without favors. Without debt. Without pressure.
And if they wanted more? All he asked was... "to take a look at the Yan Clan's Spear Art."
To an outsider, this might sound trivial. To an experienced patriarch like Yan Zijing, it was staggering for several reasons.
First, Ren Zu was not naive. The value of profound opening was so high that it could, alone, buy loyalties or force entire alliances. And yet, he deliberately refused any payment. This gesture eliminated any suspicion of political favoritism and demonstrated a sense of justice rarely seen among the Guardian Families, especially coming from the future husband of the Little Demon Empress.
Second, by asking only to see the family's Spear Art, Ren Zu demonstrated a characteristic that few great talents possessed: respect for others' paths. A tyrant would demand that they hand over their manuals. An opportunist would try to force an unequal exchange. But he asked nothing for himself; only permission to observe and study something that anyone following the path of the spear with an honest and direct mindset would recognize as a form of reverence.
This revealed something crucial: Ren Zu was not trying to exploit the Yan Clan, nor extort their heritage. He was just interested. Genuinely interested. It was the kind of request that arose not from greed, but from sincere curiosity and admiration for an art that he, despite his monstrous talent, had never had the chance to learn.
Third and perhaps most important, this request showed the kind of power that Ren Zu truly possessed.
A power that did not need to take anything by force.
He could have demanded absolutely anything: secret techniques, ancestral resources, or even political obligations that would place the Yan Clan in a position of dependence for generations. The Yan Family would have accepted because they came determined to do anything for such an opportunity. Any family would accept, even if just to create a connection with him.
After all, Ren Zu was the strongest profound practitioner on the continent, the future imperial consort, and the only doctor in the Illusory Demon Realm capable of permanently elevating someone's cultivation potential.
Yet, he asked only... knowledge, without other demands?
This was, paradoxically, the most intimidating gesture of all, because it demonstrated that Ren Zu did not need to resort to coercion. His strength was so absolute, so consolidated, that he could afford to be generous. And his confidence so solid, that he had no fear of allowing others to prosper with his help without demanding anything in return.
Yan Zijing understood all this in a single second.
And it was exactly for that reason that he felt profoundly shocked—
Because someone as powerful, as influential, and as indispensable as Ren Zu asking for something so simple... was incontestable proof that his interest in the Spear Art was genuine and devoid of ulterior motives.
Few requests seemed so small.
But very few were so significant.
Yan Chengkong did not have as much experience as his father to understand the complexity of the request, but he found it natural.
Ren Zu maintained the light, polite, and immaculate smile.
"I have always admired the path of the spear..." He admitted naturally. "But I never had the opportunity to study it. If you can allow me just to see it... that will be more than enough."
He leaned back again, the white sleeves sliding like snow over the chair's armrest.
"In exchange, I can open at least ten profound entrances...."
Yun Qinghong remained silent, but a deep satisfaction shone in his eyes. It was exactly the kind of elegant negotiation he wanted his son to learn, and ironically, Ren Zu already mastered it as if he had been born into it.
The pavilion fell quiet for a moment.
Yan Zijing remained motionless for another brief instant, as if weighing not just Ren Zu's words, but the vast ocean of implications they carried. His dark eyes blinked once, and then, with a deliberate slowness that conveyed absolute respect, he inclined his head in a deep bow, not subservient, but from equal to equal, the gesture of a patriarch who recognized greatness without resentment.
"Nephew Yun..." His voice resounded low, laden with a contained emotion that rarely showed in his forged blade posture. "Your generosity is... immeasurable. Three profound entrances for free would already be a favor that the Yan Clan would never forget. But ten... in exchange for something that, for us, is mere martial heritage..."
He raised his gaze, and for the first time, a trace of genuine smile curved the corners of his short beard. "I accept. Without hesitation. The Yan Clan considers this not an exchange, but an honor."
Yan Chengkong, beside him, straightened even more, the defined muscles under the dark blue tunic tensing in a mix of excitement and reverence. His coal eyes shone with an admiration that went beyond protocolar respect; it was the gaze of a young warrior who saw, before him, not just a doctor or a future imperial consort, but a practitioner he deeply admired!
Yan Zijing turned slightly to his son, his large hand resting on his shoulder with paternal firmness. "Chengkong, did you bring the complete manual with you, by chance? If not, I'll send someone to fetch it..."
Yan Chengkong blinked, momentarily caught off guard—he carried it out of habit, a routine precaution for trainings or unexpected demonstrations, never imagining it would be necessary there, in that serene Yun Clan pavilion.
"Yes, father. It's here."
Without delay, he retrieved it from his spatial ring; a subtle glow emanated from the artifact, and a notebook bound in hardened leather materialized in his palm, thick, with a cover reinforced by thin metal plates at the edges, exuding a faint aroma of ancient ink and weapon oil. The title, engraved in silver letters that evoked intertwined spear tips, read clearly: [Imperious Spear Art - Complete Legacy of the Yan Clan].
With both hands, Yan Chengkong offered the manual to Ren Zu, inclining his body in an impeccable salute.
"Brother Ren Zu, here it is. The entire legacy of our family, from the basics to the apex."
Ren Zu accepted the notebook with a gracious nod, his long and pale fingers brushing the cover with a delicacy that contrasted with the latent strength in his body. "Thank you, Brother Chengkong. It is a pleasure to do business with the Yan Clan—honest, direct, and without unnecessary artifices."
He positioned the manual on the dark wooden table, opening it calmly. The pages, of reinforced spiritual paper, revealed intricate diagrams of spear postures, profound energy flows traced in red and black ink, and handwritten annotations from past generations. His black eyes scanned the lines with an almost casual speed, a glance here, a page turn there, as if he were merely leafing through out of passing curiosity.
In mere minutes, the entire content—fundamental concepts, advanced variations, energy infusion secrets, imperious counterattacks, and even the mental meditations for perfect synchronization with the weapon—was etched into his mind with photographic precision.
Without additional ceremony, Ren Zu closed the notebook and returned it to Yan Chengkong with the same fluid grace. "Fascinating. Truly worthy of your reputation as the Divine Spear Clan. I thank you for the opportunity."
Yan Zijing and Yan Chengkong exchanged a quick, subtle glance, a mix of relief and veiled confusion. The patriarch inclined his head, interpreting the gesture as refined courtesy: Ren Zu asked to "look" only out of respect for their heritage, a polite formality to not accept the benefit without some symbolic reciprocity. After all, who in their right mind would memorize an entire legacy in such a brief glance?
It must have been a superficial inspection, they thought, to honor the agreement without deeply invading the clan's secrets. It was an act of nobility, nothing more generous, like everything else he had offered.
Not for a moment did it cross the mind of father or son that Ren Zu, with that single "look," had absorbed and mastered the [Imperious Spear Art] completely, elevating it to the apex in his instinctive understanding. For them, the manual would return untouched in essence, and the request had been mere politeness.
Yun Qinghong, observing in silence, allowed a discreet smile to touch his lips; he knew his adopted son well enough to suspect the truth, but he kept the thought to himself, satisfied with the political mastery demonstrated. He had not said much and left everything in his hands precisely for his son to practice.
Ren Zu then stood up, the white sleeves rippling like morning mist.
"Now, Brother Chengkong, let's proceed with the profound entrances. Relax and sit here beside me. It will be quick and painless."
Yan Chengkong sat in the chair indicated by Ren Zu, his back straight as a spear shaft, but his shoulders relaxed by the young doctor's silent order.
Ren Zu positioned himself behind him, standing, his posture relaxed, almost casual. His black eyes, deep as bottomless wells, scanned the young patriarch's body.
"Breathe deeply," he said, his voice low, firm, without unnecessary emotion. "And do not resist."
Yan Chengkong obeyed. The air entered slowly, filling his lungs, expanding his chest. In the next instant, Ren Zu's right index finger, surrounded by profound energy, touched through the clothing exactly between the seventh and eighth ribs, to the left of the sternum.
But in that touch, something happened.
An invisible wave spread from the contact.
Ren Zu manipulated a thread of profound energy that extended into the point where he touched.
An internal snap, almost inaudible, echoed inside Yan Chengkong's body.
The first 'profound entrance' opened.
But he did not stop; his finger slid a centimeter to the right, touching a point just below the left clavicle.
The 'second entrance' opened.
He continued touching various points; in the blink of an eye, thirty seconds passed! Ten profound entrances opened in less than thirty seconds!
When the last touch was given, Ren Zu withdrew his finger as if he had never touched. Yan Chengkong remained seated, eyes closed, breathing deeply. The profound energy around him now hummed, visible even to ordinary eyes, a subtle golden aura, almost imperceptible, dancing over his skin like mist in the sun.
Yan Zijing, who observed in absolute silence, felt his chest tighten. While Yun Qinghong sighed, he had seen it many times, but it never ceased to be incredible!
Ren Zu took a step back, adjusting the white sleeve with a tranquil gesture.
"It's done..." He said, simply. "The thirteen profound entrances are open. Your cultivation speed will increase at least double what it was before."
Yan Chengkong opened his eyes slowly, as if emerging from a deep dream where the entire world had expanded. From these opened profound entrances, he felt a subtle torrent of profound energy flowing into his veins like rivers emptying into a newly discovered ocean.
"Thirteen..." He murmured, his voice hoarse with disbelief, his coal eyes fixed on Ren Zu as if seeing him for the first time. "Brother Ren Zu, this is more than I ever dared to dream. My cultivation... I feel like I'm on the verge of a breakthrough!"
Yan Zijing rose from the chair with a slowness that betrayed the weight of contained emotion. His broad shoulders, accustomed to bearing the burden of generations, relaxed for a rare instant. He placed his hand on his son's shoulder, squeezing with paternal firmness, but his eyes dark as obsidian were fixed on Ren Zu...
"Nephew Yun..." He said with a voice full of emotion: "You not only opened profound entrances... you rewrote my son's destiny. The Yan Clan owes you a debt that transcends generations. Not as an obligation, but as eternal honor."
He inclined his head in a deep salute, the dark gray hanfu rippling like shadows of raised spears. Yan Chengkong followed his father's example, standing and bowing even deeper, hands cupped in front of his chest. "Brother Ren Zu, from this day on, consider the Yan Clan as an extension of your own spear. Any call, any battle, my weapon will be at your disposal."
Ren Zu waved his hand lightly, the gesture elegant and devoid of arrogance, as if what he had just done was mere routine. His deep black eyes met theirs, conveying an absolute calm that contrasted with the whirlwind of emotion from father and son.
"Uncle Yan, Brother Chengkong," he responded casually; "There is no debt here. Three entrances were a gesture of gratitude for the Yan Clan's loyalty to my family in dark times. The additional ten... well, let's say the [Imperious Spear Art] inspired me more than I expected. Consider this a fair exchange between friends...."
Yan Zijing, full of emotion, turned his gaze to Yun Qinghong, and for the first time that morning, there was something beyond diplomatic courtesy in his eyes; there was true reverence. Cupping his hands, he inclined slightly, in a gesture he rarely offered to another Patriarch, his words flowing with weight and sincerity.
"Patriarch Yun... allow me to say something I've been thinking since the moment I met your son."
Yun Qinghong remained serene, without haste, but there was a discreet glint of curiosity in his gaze.
"Raising a talent is already admirable. Raising a genius, rare." Yan Zijing continued, his eyes shifting momentarily to Ren Zu, who remained calm and polite. "But raising someone like him... someone powerful without arrogance, wise without presumption, and benevolent without naivety... that is something immeasurable."
The hall became so silent that the distant sound of the wind crossing the pavilion could be heard.
"The world knows your name as the great genius of the ancient Yun lineage. But I, Yan Zijing... say that your greatest legacy was not your talent, but your son."
For an instant, something soft and rarefied passed over Yun Qinghong's countenance. He was not moved by praises, but those words touched a place few had permission to reach. With impeccable posture, he inclined his head, responding with the dignity of a true master.
"Patriarch Yan, your words are too generous." His voice was tranquil, but there was in it a contained, affectionate pride. "My son has always walked a path that no one could truly trace for him. If he became who he is today... the greater merit is his."
His gaze met Ren Zu's, not that of the incomparable young man who now led an entire generation, but that of the son he had sworn to protect when he raised him as his own....
"But..." Yun Qinghong continued, and a light, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips: "As a father... I cannot deny that hearing this brings me great joy...."
"...Father. Uncle Yan." Ren Zu began, his voice low and refined: "You praise me too much."
There was no false modesty in his words. No forced humility. It was simply the tranquil acknowledgment of someone who did not let himself be inflated by praises, someone who accepted recognition with the same naturalness as breathing. His black eyes moved briefly from Yun Qinghong to Yan Zijing, acknowledging the respect of both without submitting to it.
"I merely do what I believe is correct." He concluded, with that unshakeable calm that only those above the world's disputes could maintain. "Nothing more than that."
Yan Chengkong could not avoid a brief laugh, which was respectful but sincere. He inclined his head, his eyes shining with something between admiration and disbelief.
"Too humble, Brother Ren Zu," he said, with a touch of joviality that rarely a Young Patriarch would dare show before another. "If all who 'merely did the correct' could heal dead profound veins, open profound entrances without risk, and reach the legendary Divine Profound Realm... the entire Realm would have been saved long ago. Modesty at that level borders on cruelty to the rest of us."
"..."
The observation drew a brief and surprising smile from Yun Qinghong.
He crossed his arms, shaking his head, like someone who had already lived with that type of response many times.
"Haha, it's useless to try to make him admit any greatness..." He said, amused, the paternal tone overflowing in every word. "Zu'er has always been like this. Since he was little. And now, even if he saves one person, he would say he was just passing by. If he healed a hundred, he would say he did the minimum. If he carried the entire Yun Clan on his back, he would probably still say it 'was nothing special'."
Yan Zijing, previously so serious, allowed himself to let out a deep laugh rare for someone of his status.
"Then he really takes after his father," he commented, with a warm glint in his eyes. "Patriarch Yun, you raised a formidable son..."
"...You are being generous again, Patriarch Yan." Yun Qinghong smiled, before politely inviting the two: "Patriarch Yan, Nephew Chengkong, why not stay for tea? Ying Su must be bringing the premium mountain leaves now."
Yan Zijing nodded, the genuine smile still present. "It would be an honor, Patriarch Yun...."
At that moment, Ying Su returned with a tray of steaming tea, the aroma of rare herbs filling the pavilion.
Ren Zu shook his head and sat down again, gesturing for everyone to do the same. Starting a conversation with the father and son of the Yan family, with his father participating as well.
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