RUAN YANJUN

I sighed in relief as the carriage finally came to a halt in front of my private residence.

The journey back had been exhausting. I had just returned from the imperial palace in Guan, the capital of Xianru, where the crown prince’s condition had taken a sharp turn for the worse.

For days, he had been spitting blood, yet the imperial physicians remained baffled. When I first arrived at the palace, the crown prince was still conscious, though weak. But last night, he had fallen into a coma.

To anyone else, his symptoms might have seemed mysterious. At first glance, it was clearly poisoning, yet I couldn’t detect any toxins in his system. Even the palace’s renowned experts were clueless.

It was a puzzle. I was certain it was a poison, and I had a good idea of who was behind it. But without identifying the specific toxin, treatment was impossible, and proving the crime would be even harder.

“Greetings, Master.” Huang Wen bowed deeply as I stepped out of the carriage.

“You’ve returned,” I said curtly, striding toward the door. The servants lined up in the courtyard to greet me, but I barely glanced at them. I was far too tired to bother with pleasantries.

“I returned just yesterday,” Huang Wen said, falling in step behind me. “Master, I’ve gathered more information about the Divine Mage, and I believe it will surprise you.”

I stopped abruptly and turned to face him. “Are you sure? If this is more useless trash like before, don’t waste my time. I want to rest.”

“I assure you, Master. It will be worth your while.”

I studied his expression, then nodded. “Did you bring the portrait?”

He reached into his lapel and handed me a rolled-up scroll.

Unlike before, I felt little urgency to look. My thoughts were still occupied with the crown prince’s plight, and the search for the missing priest had slipped lower on my list of priorities.

“Fine,” I said flatly. “Bring me some tea, and we’ll see if your news is worth my time.”

“Yes, Master.” Huang Wen bowed and hurried off.

I sat down at the tea table, the scroll resting in my hands. After a moment of hesitation, I unrolled it.

I frowned.

It was a portrait of a beautiful woman.

I scowled, my irritation flaring. Was this some kind of joke? I was about to call Huang Wen back and punish him for wasting my time when my eyes caught the name written at the bottom of the paper.

I froze, my gaze snapping back to the portrait.

Taking a closer look, I studied the delicate features of the face drawn on the paper. Something stirred in my memory—something familiar. The resemblance to someone I had seen recently was unmistakable.

I slammed the portrait onto the table, my heart racing.

Could it be?

That blind man I had watched just days ago?

*****

 LUO FAN

“Fan!” Jinjing called out as she spotted me standing across the road from the brothel. She hurried toward me, her steps quick and light. “I told you not to worry about me. You’re ruining your reputation being seen around such a promiscuous place.”

I fell into step beside her. “It’s not like anyone knows me here, and honestly, I don’t care what people think. If they judge me wrongly based on their own assumptions, that’s their fault, not mine.”

She sighed, slipping her hand around my elbow. “Let’s just go. I’m starving.”

“You didn’t have dinner again?”

“I wrapped it up to share with you.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said gently. “I cooked something at home.”

“But this is special—it’s meat.”

I couldn’t help but smile. For people like us, meat was a luxury we could rarely afford. In the two months I had lived with her, we’d only had meat twice. It was a rare treat, and I knew that was why she wanted to share it with me—just as I had bought meat for her before.

“I also cooked meat,” I said, matching her tone.

She gasped, her surprise palpable. “Where did you get meat?”

“I bought it.”

“With what money?”

“Remember our neighbor who’s been complaining about his bad back? I offered to massage him. He was so pleased with the results, he gave me some copper coins.”

Her lips parted in surprise, then curved into a teasing smile. “Oh, so you can massage, can you? My whole body aches from standing ten hours a day. Can you massage me, too? But I don’t have any money to pay you with.”

I forced a small laugh. “You don’t need to pay me, but I can only massage your hands and feet. Nowhere else.”

She pouted dramatically. “Why not?”

“Because it’s inappropriate.”

She sighed heavily. “You’re too virtuous. I should start calling you Mister Appropriate.”

“I’m just trying to protect your dignity. What’s wrong with that?”

“The problem is that you treat me like I’m some pure young maiden. You know better than anyone that I’ve long since lost my dignity.”

“You’re twenty-nine. That’s hardly old. And having a past doesn’t mean you don’t deserve respect. Everyone does.”

Her steps slowed, and she rested her forehead lightly against my arm. “I wish everyone thought like you.”

“They just don’t know you well enough.”

“Do you?”

“Maybe not entirely,” I admitted. “But I know enough to see that you’re a good person. One good person is all I need to feel fine living in this place.”

She laughed softly.

“And thank you for thinking of me,” I added, my voice quieter. “Saving your dinner to share with me—it means a lot.”

“You used your hard-earned money to buy me something to eat. We’re even.”

“No, we’re not. I owe you far more than I can ever repay.”

“Ah, don’t get melodramatic on me,” she teased, her voice breaking into a laugh. “Don’t make me cry again.”

Suddenly, a figure landed directly in front of us, so close it felt like an invasion of our personal space.

Jinjing squealed, her grip on my arm tightening.

I froze, stunned.

The man who stood before us was massive, towering even over me. His broad shoulders and powerful frame exuded an intimidating presence that seemed to make the very air around him heavier.

I could feel Jinjing trembling beside me, and I knew without seeing that his appearance must be as terrifying as the aura he projected.

He stepped closer, the distance between us shrinking to half an arm’s length.

“Divine Mage,” he said, his voice low and deliberate.

My eyes widened. His imposing figure didn’t frighten me, but the title he had just uttered did.

I took a cautious step back.

“Wei Fan,” he continued, his tone as calm as it was mocking, as though testing me or baiting me to confirm his suspicions.

I held my breath, forcing myself to remain silent.

Who was this man? Was he hired to finish the job my enemies had started? Or was he an ally of the one who had helped me escape?

Uncertainty gripped me, but one thing was clear: I couldn’t afford to say anything.

The man snickered, his confidence unwavering. “So this is the banished disciple of Frost Mountain. You’ve strayed too far. No wonder no one could find you.”

I discreetly inhaled, steadying my nerves. For Jinjing’s sake, I needed to appear calm—even if I stood no chance against this man.

“Mister, do you need something from me?” I asked courteously.

I could barely see his face, but his silhouette was enough to piece together the outline of a strong jaw and a commanding presence.

He was at least half a foot taller than me, with broad shoulders tapering into a lean, narrow waist. His movements radiated control, and though I had lost my ability to sense cultivation levels, I could feel the raw power emanating from him.

If I had to fight him, I knew the outcome. I wouldn’t stand a chance.

He smirked but said nothing. His head tilted slightly, and I could tell from the subtle motion that he was studying me from head to toe, his gaze sharp and calculating.

RUAN YANJUN

I hadn’t expected the now-infamous top disciple of the Ethereal Frost Sect to look like this. Even without his reputation preceding him, the man standing before me was captivating. He truly embodied the name of his former sect—ethereal, otherworldly.

The coldness in his expression and voice paired with his understated appearance was striking. The plain white robe and the simple lace that tied back his long hair only served to highlight his natural beauty.

I had seen countless beauties in my life—men and women alike—but they rarely stirred anything within me. Beauty had become mundane, a thing to admire in passing, no more captivating than the design of a fine porcelain vase. Yet, this man was different.

Wei Fan wasn’t just beautiful. He was extraordinary. A living work of art.

But the woman beside him spoiled the scene, clinging to his arm like a leech.

I scowled at her. “Only a whore clings to a man like a slug in public. Where is your decency?”

Her eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed a deep red. She opened her mouth, but no words came. Shame welled in her gaze, tears pooling as she turned her head slightly, as if to shield herself. Even Wei Fan, with all his composure, seemed momentarily caught off guard by my words.

Then I recognized her. She was the same woman those drunkards had harassed days ago. Her uniform made it clear what she was.

“Oh,” I sneered, the word cutting. “You are a whore.”

Her hands dropped from Wei Fan’s arm as if burned. She turned her face away entirely, hiding her shame.

“Mister,” Wei Fan said, his voice as calm and measured as a still lake. “This woman is my wife. Please treat her with the respect she deserves.”

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his choice of words. Then I laughed—a deep, derisive sound. “A priest marrying a whore? I’ve heard nothing of the sort. And as for respect, I’ve yet to see a whore who’s earned it. Don’t tell me that as soon as your sect kicked you out, you decided to abandon all their teachings and become the opposite of what they trained you to be.”

His lips tightened slightly, the only visible sign that my words had struck a nerve. But his voice remained steady when he replied. “Mister, it’s late. Perhaps we can continue this conversation another time.”

He turned to the woman beside him, gently taking her hand. “Let’s go.”

I watched as they passed by, my eyes lingering on him.

Days ago, when I had watched him fight off those drunkards, I had been disappointed. His strikes were weak, his inner strength absent. It was hard to believe this was the same man once hailed as a prodigy of the Cultivation World.

He had been the youngest grandmaster, a seventh-level cultivator whose name had been whispered with awe. Even though he avoided public appearances, his talent had been so undeniable that the Tianhui Sect—a sect known for its rigorous ranking system—had placed him ninth among the top ten cultivators on the continent.

That ranking system had always been a joke to me.

I wasn’t on their list, of course. Not because I wasn’t worthy, but because I didn’t waste my time on their bi-annual tournaments. The cultivators who vied for a spot in their rankings were like starving dogs fighting over scraps.

To me, they were small fish in a shallow pond. Even if I crushed fifty of them, it wouldn’t satisfy my hunger for a real challenge. They could keep their lists, their tournaments, their petty titles. I had no need for their validation.

And yet, they all knew my name.

Ruan Yanjun.

The cultivator they didn’t dare mention. The one whose power overshadowed them all. The name that made even the top ten combined seem insignificant.

So, no, I didn’t care about rankings. But the man before me, Wei Fan, had once been considered a true contender.

As they turned a corner, I called out, “I’ll be expecting it.”

The woman glanced back briefly, confusion in her gaze, but Wei Fan kept walking, his expression unreadable.

Still, I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

Despite his fall, despite his nullified cultivation, there was something about him—an ember that hadn’t been completely extinguished. A faint spark remained, hidden beneath the ashes.

It was waiting. Waiting for the right conditions, the right catalyst, to reignite.

Wei Fan wasn’t just remarkable. He was extraordinary. More so than his master had ever been.

I could use someone like him.

It didn’t matter that he had been stripped of his cultivation. I could nurture him, guide him back to his former strength—and beyond.

Huang Wen had confirmed that Wei Fan had once reached the seventh level. That kind of talent couldn’t simply disappear. It was precisely that brilliance, that raw potential, that had brought about his downfall.

He had been punished for his talent, for his unparalleled rise.

But now? Now he would be in my hands.

A smirk tugged at my lips.

I wouldn’t just restore him. I would shape him into a rival. It had been far too long since I had faced a worthy opponent.

With him, I could finally have the challenge I craved.

But I couldn’t afford to act rashly. While I could easily abduct him and force him into submission, that wasn’t the path I wanted to take. To execute my plan, I needed his cooperation—willing cooperation.

And that required patience.

Patience had never been my virtue, but for Wei Fan, I would make an exception.

Slowly, carefully, I would draw him in. I would rebuild him, piece by piece.

And when the time came, I would see him rise to the level he was destined for.

Because I had seen it—the potential within him. The brilliance waiting to be unleashed.

Wei Fan wasn’t just a tool. He wasn’t just a challenge. He was a masterpiece in the making. And I, Ruan Yanjun, would be the one to shape him.