The Yan lineage of Liuzhou, back courtyard.
The former Clan Master Yan Hanqing sat in front of a carriage, puffing away on a dry tobacco pipe with rhythmic puffs. His age was actually not very great, and he had yet to reach sixty, but he had already abdicated to let a worthy successor take over, handing the position of clan master to Yan Shihai.
He wore a troubled expression, his brows creased into a deep, heavy frown.
He had also been dashing and debonair in his youth, a man of peerless grace, but now he wore coarse hempen garments, dressed just like an ordinary carriage driver.
The tobacco in the pipe had long since gone out, but he acted as though he was completely unaware, continuing to puff away rhythmically as if he had heavy matters on his mind.
Before the moon-shaped doorway of the back courtyard, Yan Shihai smiled at Yan Shaoxuan and said, "Shaoxuan, the Ling Shan Tang Collection and the Nangong Collection are profound arts created by the ancestors of our Yan lineage. The techniques within them encompass all things, and your natural talent is the best. You must cultivate them well."
Yan Shaoxuan nodded silently.
"Whether the Yan lineage is revitalized or not, I no longer care. As long as you and your younger brother live in peace and safety, that is enough."
Yan Shihai smiled and stroked her head, saying, "Be a little better to yourself, find a good family to marry into, and don't dwell on thoughts of revenge. This matter has nothing to do with you."
Yan Shaoxuan could not help feeling her nose sting as teardrops rolled down, and she choked out, "Clan Master, is there truly no room for redemption?"
Yan Shihai shook his head and said, "There is no room