Taking the Back Door

In the blink of an eye, a dozen or so years of time flowed past like a stream.

The valley remained serene and quiet, with two newly built thatched cottages now standing beside the bamboo house.

The biggest change, naturally, was that all three Yang children had grown into adults.

Yang Jiao was the eldest, already a tall and steady young man whose features bore a strong resemblance to his father's, save for a greater air of scholarly refinement.

He was now Yang Tianyou's pioneering head disciple in the lineage of Literary Dao.

Every day, apart from cultivating his own Literary Qi, he helped his father instruct the village children who had arrived one after another, leading a structured and fulfilling life.

Yang Chan, the youngest, had blossomed into a graceful young woman. She inherited her mother Yunhua's good looks, but her personality was much livelier and more nimble.

She seemed to have little interest in the Literary Dao, preferring instead to busy herself with flowers and plants.

As for the second child, Yang Erlang...

At this moment, he was standing in the open space before the bamboo house, striking what he fancied to be a dashing opening stance as he channeled his energy toward a millstone-sized bluestone.

"Hah!"

With a low roar, his fist slammed into the stone.

The bluestone remained motionless.

Yang Erlang winced and shook his hand, sucking in a cold breath.

"Another failure..." He made a crying face, turning to look at Yang Tianyou, who was sunbathing in a reclining chair under the eaves.

"Dad! Can your Literary Dao really not be used for fighting?"

"I want to learn the kind that lets you fly! The kind of immortal magic where you can split a mountain with a single sword and then swoosh, ascend straight to