Wei released his soul power, a silent tide that spread across the courtyard. Immediately he confirmed that Xiao Zhan was well outside of hearing range. From the side, he brushed against the aura of a hidden Dou Huang, sharp and restrained. Wei paused for a moment before dismissing it. 'Gu Xun'er's guard… no need to concern myself with him.' With a thought, he manipulated his soul power further, wrapping the area in a muffling veil to swallow the sound of their voices.
Then, with deliberate calm, Wei removed the concealment that had been covering both his and the puppet's cultivation. For a fleeting moment, a suffocating pressure rolled across the courtyard—mysterious and unfathomable—before it was pulled back into stillness. Behind him, the puppet's presence stood bare and oppressive, like an immovable mountain.
Satisfied, Wei gestured to Xiao Yan to sit.
"Brother Xiao, there is no need for nervousness. I came to speak with you directly."
He explained patiently that he was a disciple of a pavilion in the Central Plains, that his master's surname was Feng, and that an old friend of his master had once lost a ring that he himself had forged long ago.
That ring, Wei continued, was the very same ring Xiao Yan had inherited from his late mother. He asked to examine it.
Xiao Yan's fingers tightened slightly, reluctance flashing in his eyes, but after a moment he nodded and handed it over.
Inside the ring's space, Yao Chen was startled. His cloudy gaze sharpened as he felt the young man's energy—it was not Dou Qi, nor anything he could properly understand, but it carried a weight equal to a peak Spirit and somehow more oppressive. His shock only deepened at the mention of the name Feng Tian. That was a name of a old Friend. Curiosity overcame him, and he waited silently, wanting to see what this youth would attempt. In his mind, Wei's soul power—merely that of an early sixth-rank alchemist—should not be capable of shaking the ring. Yao Chen prepared himself to appear once the boy inevitably failed, ready to question him directly.
But when Wei received the ring, he did not hesitate. He surrounded it in an instant with his spiritual power.
"What!?" Yao Chen's startled cry burst out before he could contain it. The exclamation rang clearly in both boys' ears—Wei's and Xiao Yan's—as the ring shuddered violently and vanished, pulled away into the hidden Alchemy Realm where Wei's grandfather would handle the rest.
Xiao Yan's eyes widened in shock. "The ring… where did it go?" He looked at Wei, only to see the young man slump back slightly, as though an enormous burden had been lifted from his shoulders.
Wei exhaled, then shook his head. "No… it was not the relic I spoke of. In truth, that story was a lie."
Xiao Yan froze, confusion painted across his face.
Wei looked him in the eye, his tone calm but firm. "That ring was not empty. It carried the soul of a man—Yao Chen, once one of the greatest alchemists of the Central Plains. He was not your enemy. In fact, he never wished you harm. But his presence within the ring suppressed your cultivation and consumed your progress bit by bit. That is why your strength disappeared. It was never because you lacked talent."
The silence that followed weighed heavy. Xiao Yan's lips trembled slightly, relief and disbelief colliding in his heart. The shadow of humiliation he had carried for years felt different now—less like a personal failure, more like a burden forced upon him.
Wei let him breathe for a moment before continuing, his voice steady. "Now, try to practice."
---
The ring shimmered once before vanishing from Xiao Yan's hand.
Yao Chen felt his soul wrenched away, pulled violently through space before being thrust into an unfamiliar world.
When his form stabilized, he looked around in stunned silence. The air here was thick, almost alive, filled with energies he couldn't fully grasp. Ominous auras pressed against him from every direction—powerful, slumbering beasts that made even his peak seem small. Around him stretched fields of herbs, their radiance extraordinary, their fragrance rich with power he had never encountered even in the Central Plains.
"This… isn't the Dou Qi continent," Yao Chen whispered. His soul quivered faintly, weakened and incomplete, unable to resist the realm's oppressive rules. He tried to isolate himself, but space itself defied him, pressing down with merciless weight.
Then a calm voice called out, resonating directly in his soul:
"You've arrived. Come in."
His gaze turned, and in the distance, past the fields, stood a simple wooden room. Modest, almost ordinary, but the pressure flowing from it was heavier than anything else in this strange realm.
Yao Chen hesitated, but with the realm suppressing his strength, he had no choice but to obey. With a bitter chuckle, he drifted toward the room. "Helpless, even now…"
At the threshold, the voice spoke again, this time with the faintest trace of warmth.
"Enter, Yao Chen. We have much to discuss."
---
Back in the Xiao family's back mountain, Xiao Yan sat in meditation as Wei instructed. For days his Dou Qi had been sluggish, stubborn to gather—yet now, the instant he circulated his method, it flowed smooth and abundant. His breathing quickened, eyes snapping open as flames of excitement filled them.
"It… it's back! My strength—it's back!" Xiao Yan's voice trembled as he clenched his fists, Dou Qi surging eagerly at his command.
Wei only nodded faintly, leaning back as though the moment was already expected.
Xiao Yan staggered back a step, blurting, "Wait first—someone… was in that ring?"
Wei nodded. "And now he is where he must be."
Xiao Yan wanted to press for more, but before he could, Wei gestured for him to sit. He reclined casually, no longer carrying the act of an elegant young master—just a youth at ease, his manner calm and unrestrained. "Ask. I'll answer any question you have."
Xiao Yan swallowed, then sat opposite him. "Who are you… really? And what is it that you want?"
Wei didn't hesitate. "It's complicated… I'll explain more later. What I want is simple: to walk my own path, to shape my destiny, and to aid those I deem worthy. You, Xiao Yan, happen to be one of them."
His words carried no false grandeur, only truth. Xiao Yan studied him carefully, unsure of how to respond. Questions tumbled out—about his strength, his purpose—but Wei answered each with directness, never slipping back into his earlier façade.
Eventually, Xiao Yan fell silent, frowning faintly as if something weighed on him. He wanted to ask about the ring, about Yao Chen, but hesitation bound his tongue.
Wei watched him for a long moment, then a small smile touched his lips. "You want to know how I can speak of these things, don't you? How I know about all of this?"
Xiao Yan froze.
Wei leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharp, yet carrying an odd familiarity. His voice was quiet, deliberate:
"Because we are more alike than you think… isn't that right, fellow villager?"
Xiao Yan's breath caught, his pupils constricting violently. The words struck him like thunder, tearing away the last wall of secrecy. His greatest truth—his origin, the secret he thought he would carry alone for life—had just been laid bare.