Family Visitors

The wind in the twelfth lunar month cut like a knife, stinging anyone it struck across the face. Yet the vast training grounds of Blustering Wind Martial Hall steamed with heat. Shouts, fists and feet slicing through the air, and the dull thud of stone locks hitting the ground mingled together, driving away the bitter cold of winter.

Dressed in the martial hall's thin blue training clothes, Li Yuan stood among the disciples in Class A Room, pounding away at an iron-plated wooden dummy. He wasn't the fastest, and his form wasn't the most precise, but every fist and kick landed with an unusual, heavy force. The thick iron plating dented slightly under his blows, and the muffled impacts carried far enough to draw sidelong glances from several disciples nearby.

He was completely absorbed, focusing all his attention on the circulation of qi and blood within him. The trace of icy properties brought by the devouring curse had begun to merge with his Crimson Sun Qi and Blood, making his strength more concentrated and its penetrating force greater. He was trying to control this newly born power with greater precision, working it into his daily training.

Just then, a commotion—not loud, but noticeable—rose at the entrance to the training grounds.

Li Yuan drew back his fist. His breathing remained steady as he looked up.

Instructor Chen Song came in with several people. At the head was a middle-aged man with a pale, clean-shaven face, dressed in a dark blue brocade robe of the kind worn only by core stewards of the Li Family. A thick black cloak hung over it, and he kept his hands tucked into his sleeves. His indifferent gaze swept over the sweating disciples, an air of unshakable arrogance between his brows. Two Li Family Guards followed behind him. They had sharp eyes and vigorous auras, their temples bulging high—clearly capable fighters with no small degree of cultivation.

Their arrival clashed with the martial hall's feverish atmosphere, like chunks of ice dropped into boiling water.

The shouts on the training grounds gradually died down. Many disciples stopped what they were doing and stared at the uninvited guests with curiosity and wariness. Quite a few recognized the Li Family attire, and their eyes turned instinctively toward Li Yuan.

Li Yuan's heart sank, but his expression remained unchanged. He simply watched the group approach.

Instructor Chen looked displeased as he led the middle-aged man over to Li Yuan and introduced him stiffly. "Li Yuan, this is Third Steward Li Ming, of the Li Family. He has business with you."

Li Ming's narrow eyes settled on Li Yuan, sizing him up like a piece of merchandise. His gaze swept from head to toe, lingering especially on Li Yuan's noticeably sturdier build and martial hall uniform. The corner of his mouth curled in a barely perceptible sneer.

"Li Yuan," he said, his voice high and sharp, dripping with condescension. "The Lineage has issued an order. Pack your things at once and come back to the estate with me."

No greeting, no pleasantries—just an order. As if Li Yuan were still that collateral-line disciple they could manipulate at will, ready to be sacrificed whenever they pleased.

Silence fell over the training grounds. Every eye fixed on Li Yuan.

Li Yuan met Li Ming's gaze calmly, unmoved by the man's rudeness. He spoke slowly, his voice not loud, yet clear enough to carry across the silent grounds.

"Go back to the estate? Which estate?"

Li Ming frowned, plainly not expecting this reaction from Li Yuan. His voice turned colder. "To the Li Family estate, of course! You're a member of the Li Family. Are you telling me you'd defy even a summons from the Lineage?"

"A member of the Li Family?" Li Yuan repeated the words, a smile that was not quite a smile crossing his face. There was no warmth in it, only shards of ice. "Third Steward, you must have forgotten. When I was tied up and offered to the 'Ancestral Spirit' on the altar, did the Li Family treat me as one of its own?"

Li Ming's face darkened at once. The two Guards behind him sharpened their gazes and stepped forward half a pace, spreading an invisible pressure through the air.

Instructor Chen stepped forward too. He said nothing, but his stance made his position clear.

The martial hall's disciples held their breath. Their eyes darted between Li Yuan and the Li Family men, and shock and dawning understanding appeared on many faces. The sacrifice on the altar was a closely guarded secret within the Li Family, but rumors of it had long circulated among the low-ranking servants and some collateral-line members. For Li Yuan to expose it in front of everyone was no less than a hard slap across the Li Family's face!

Li Ming's eyelid twitched. Forcing down his anger, he said coldly, "Li Yuan, don't you dare spout nonsense! The Lineage has its reasons! You're coming back today, whether you like it or not! Otherwise..."

"Otherwise what?" Li Yuan cut him off, facing the man's sinister gaze with his back straight as a spear. "Will you tie me to the altar again, or are you planning to attack me here and drag me back by force?"

He took a step forward. He was still young, but the savage aura forged through repeated battles and the smelting of his qi and blood, mingled with the scorching pressure unique to Crimson Sun, made even Li Ming—long accustomed to holding power over others—feel his breath catch.

"Third Steward," Li Yuan said, his voice quiet, each word like iron striking the ground. "From the moment I walked away from that altar alive, the Li Family and I had nothing more to do with each other. The old Li Yuan is dead. He died on the altar you arranged with your own hands."

His gaze swept over Li Ming and the Guards behind him, then settled on Li Ming's livid face.

"Please leave."

Three words, as firm and final as a nail driven home.

An eerie silence settled over the training grounds. Only the winter wind moaned as it swept past the flagpole.

Li Ming glared at Li Yuan, his chest heaving. He was clearly furious to the utmost. He had never imagined that this boy, once so easy to crush, would not only have grown so much stronger, but also become so stubborn and difficult to deal with.

The two Guards with him had their hands on the hilts at their waists, their eyes fierce, waiting only for Li Ming's command.

Instructor Chen and several Deacon Disciples from the martial hall quietly shifted position, subtly shielding Li Yuan. The atmosphere on the training grounds turned taut in an instant, as if blades might be drawn at any moment.

Li Ming clenched his teeth. His gaze moved between Li Yuan's fearless face and the people from the martial hall who so clearly stood on Li Yuan's side. He knew there was no way he could come out ahead today. If they resorted to force, they would not only fail to take Li Yuan, but might not even leave in one piece themselves.

"Fine! Fine! Fine!" He spat out each word through clenched teeth, venom dripping from them. "Li Yuan, you're something! We'll... see about this!"

With that, he flung his sleeve and turned to leave. The two Guards shot Li Yuan a vicious glare before following him.

The three men arrived quickly and left just as fast, like a sinister wind sweeping across the training grounds. All they left behind was a chill in the air and a sea of complicated gazes.

Li Yuan stood where he was, watching them disappear beyond the martial hall's gates. His face remained calm, but the hand at his side had quietly curled into a fist, its knuckles paling with tension.

He knew this was only the beginning. The Li Family would never let the matter rest.

Instructor Chen walked over and patted him on the shoulder, speaking in a low voice. "Are you all right?"

Li Yuan unclenched his fist and shook his head. "I'm fine."

He turned and walked back to the iron-plated wooden dummy, as though nothing had happened.

But the fist he threw now struck harder and heavier than before. Its muffled impact rang out like the pounding of a silent war drum, echoing through the ever more bitter wind.