Chapter Seven: The Return

Upon learning how deeply Ziling worried for his safety, and seeing her trembling as she braved the cold to warm him with her own body heat, Yang Yan felt a surge of warmth in his heart, tears nearly welling in his eyes.

Since childhood, he had endured countless cold stares. The scorn and ridicule from others he could always shrug off with indifference, but precisely because of that, the few who truly cared for him as family or friend became treasures he kept deep within his heart.

Offering gentle words to calm Ziling, Yang Yan then tried to stand up from the ground himself. After struggling for quite some time without success, he had no choice but to sit cross-legged and focus on regulating his breath.

So it was that not until the sun dipped behind the western hills did Yang Yan manage to move about on his own. By the time he and Ziling reached the gates of the Zhang residence, dusk had already fallen.

At the entrance, lanterns blazed, and several dozen people stood assembled. At the forefront was a middle-aged man, thin and pale as jade, with the scholarly air of a gentle, frail intellectual. He paced anxiously by the door, worry etched on his features.

“Well? Any news of the Third Young Master and Miss… Ziling?” he asked, turning to a gray-robed elder at his side.

“None yet. We’ve sent out three groups already, but there’s still no word…” The elder’s face was expressionless, his tone cold.

In an inconspicuous corner stood a woman dressed as a maid, her face full of worry as she watched the street beyond the gates. Although attired plainly, without makeup or any gold or silver adornments, her delicate features still stood out amidst the crowd. A closer look would reveal a striking resemblance to Ziling.

“Patriarch, look! The Third Young Master, they’ve come back!” A young servant called out, pointing not far from the gate.

Everyone turned at his words, and saw a girl about twelve or thirteen helping a slightly older youth hobble towards them.

The middle-aged man, whom they called the Patriarch, and the beautiful woman in maid’s garb were first to step forward and hurry to their side.

“Yan’er, Ling’er, where have you two been? We’ve been searching everywhere!” The Patriarch spoke first, his tone holding a trace of sternness and reproach. But upon noticing Yang Yan’s condition, his voice softened at once.

“Yan’er, what happened to you?”

“Father, I’m all right. It was just that the cold poison flared up while I was out today. Fortunately, Ziling was with me, so I came through unharmed…”

“Aunt Zhao…” Yang Yan paused and bowed respectfully to the middle-aged man, then turned to greet the beautiful woman.

“Mother!” Ziling, as if terribly wronged, threw herself into the woman’s arms and sobbed.

“Silly child, it’s enough that you’re home…” The woman smiled gently at Yang Yan, then stroked Ziling’s back, soothing her with soft words.

“Enough, you’re both home safe—that’s what matters. Come in, dinner has been ready for a while.” The middle-aged man, greatly relieved, patted Yang Yan on the shoulder.

Yang Yan nodded, deeply moved. No matter how the outside world mocked or ostracized him, this man had always been there for him in his darkest hours. Whatever others said, whatever his own origins, in Yang Yan’s heart, he had long since regarded this man as his true father.

As Yang Yan was reflecting on all this, an aged voice cut in at an inopportune moment.

“If you’d spend less time causing trouble and more time cultivating, maybe you wouldn’t lag so far behind the eldest and second young masters!”

The words were not loud, but carried clearly to everyone present. Many looked around in embarrassment, and saw that the speaker was the same gray-robed elder as before.

This was Zhang Qiusheng, the Zhang family’s chief elder—technically a distant uncle of Zhang Tai, with little real blood relation. Yet he was a powerful practitioner, second only to Zhang Tai himself, having reached the Spirit Communion stage. He had served as chief elder for many years, and in the clan there were die-hard loyalists who followed his lead without question.

Zhang Tai’s steps faltered momentarily, and an awkward look crossed his face.

“Father, hurry up! I’m starving!” Yang Yan pretended not to have heard, complaining to Zhang Tai.

With a sigh, Zhang Tai resumed walking towards the house.

Yang Yan knew his father’s situation all too well. The Zhang family, though respected in Jinhua City, was hardly unrivaled; the Xu family in the south and the Sun family in the west also held great sway, each with their own Spirit Communion experts. Though outwardly all three clans coexisted peacefully, beneath the surface they were constantly preparing for conflict, hiding their strength and biding their time.

Thus, though Jinhua City seemed calm, beneath the ice flowed secret currents. Zhang Qiusheng himself had reached the third level of the Spirit Sensing realm, making him a figure of renown in the city. Having served as chief elder for many years, he commanded his own following within the Zhang clan. Though Zhang Tai was the patriarch, he could rarely act unilaterally and, unless absolutely necessary, had no wish to openly clash with the chief elder.

Yang Yan, understanding all this, deliberately ignored the elder’s jibe to spare his father further embarrassment.

As for the matter itself, Yang Yan paid it no mind. He had never cared what those who looked down on him thought. Right now, his only concern was filling his empty stomach!

At the dinner table, watching Yang Yan and Ziling devour their meal, Zhang Tai could only shake his head and smile wryly, but his face softened, suffused with a rare contentment.

After gorging himself, Yang Yan claimed he still felt unwell and returned early to his room.

He did not tell Zhang Tai everything about what had happened that day—just that he and Ziling had gone out to play and he had suffered a sudden attack of the cold poison. Of the strange space and all he had witnessed there, he breathed not a word.

It was not that he distrusted his father, but the truth was simply too astonishing. If word accidentally got out, the Zhang family could be doomed!

“Nine Hells Supreme Yin Technique—let’s hope you don’t disappoint me…”