Afterward, many fragrant attendants appeared, along with eunuchs holding umbrellas. They lined the street all the way to the gate. Then an eight-man palanquin came into view. Its roof was gilded and studded with seven-colored gems and a large pearl shaped like a gourd. Pearl curtains and embroidered canopies surrounded it, and its fragrance was overwhelming, its every detail radiating the wealth and imperial majesty of the royal court. In other words, this father and son were permitted to ride horses within the imperial city and even to appear before the emperor bearing swords. Except for the emperor, they need not kneel before anyone—not even the crown prince or empress—but only bow in greeting. The moment their gazes met, Hong Yi's heart gave a jolt. He understood perfectly well that it was because there was such an enormous gap between their strengths. After reaching the Martial Saint realm, one's blood was completely renewed, and one's vitality became unimaginably powerful. Within several dozen zhang, a Yin Soul couldn't even approach. Even if a flying sword came to kill him, before it could reach his body it would be driven back by his vital energy, its power cut by more than half, leaving it limp and useless. At fourteen, Hong Xi had entered the army's Martial Hall. Later, after repeatedly distinguishing himself in battle, he rose to the rank of commander. On one occasion, while escorting the crown prince on an inspection of the frontier, he was ambushed. He fought off a hundred attackers by himself. When he returned, the emperor bestowed upon him an ice-cracked-patterned saber called Prison Suppressor and praised him to his face: "A tiger father has no dog for a son." Hong Yi's eyes happened to catch that look. At once, his blood and vital energy surged, and a powerful anger rose in his heart. He clenched his fists slightly and lowered his eyes. I wonder what level Hong Xi's martial arts have reached. Is he a Xiantian expert or a Grandmaster? Hong Yi slightly avoided Hong Xi's gaze and wondered. He stood at the very back. Glancing around, he saw that more than a dozen of his brothers and sisters had gathered. All were present except Hong Kang, Lady Zhao's second son, who held an official post in the south and couldn't make the long journey back. Hong Xuejiao, from Lady Fang's branch, and Hong Gui, from the Third Madam's branch, stood properly among the others as well. You may inherit the marquisate, but one day I will rise above you. In governance, martial skill, strength, and status, I will surpass you by far—just as you look down on me today. Hong Yi's anger subsided, and he swore silently to himself. After seeing Hong Xi's gaze, Hong Yi had moved past his anger and begun to think carefully. Hong Xi, Lady Zhao's eldest son and the Marquis Mansion's legitimate eldest son, would one day become the true authority in the entire household. He stood behind Hong Xuanji, outwardly calm and refined, yet inwardly as fierce as a mountain. When Hong Xi saw Hong Yi avoid his gaze, his eyes slid aside, a trace of contemptuous mockery flashing through them. He looked like a savage lion staring at a little white rabbit. Anyone could see that these two were the true father and son. "You may rise." The Marquis Mansion was flourishing with heirs. Hong Xuanji's three wives and four concubines had each borne one or two children, so Hong Yi had more than a dozen brothers and sisters. Yet no one was surprised. Both Hong Xuanji and Hong Xi had received the emperor's decree permitting them to ride horses in the imperial city and wear swords in the palace; they need kneel before no one but the sovereign. Hong Yi stole a glance, but couldn't see the slightest bit of the person inside the palanquin. Naturally, he couldn't tell what Consort Yuan looked like, or whether she was the red-clad heroine he had met in the mountain valley that day. If Hong Yi's Soul cultivation hadn't achieved a little success, he could never have sensed so much. The other four concubines of the Marquis Mansion followed behind the three madams like serving maids, not daring to overstep their place or draw attention to themselves. Hong Yi felt that the other illegitimate sons around him—and even he himself—lacked the same bearing as Hong Xuanji and Hong Xi. It wasn't a matter of their looks or bloodline, but of the legacy of their spirit and temperament. These concubines may not have an easy life, but at least they come from wealthy merchant families. And now that their sons are grown, their hardship is nearly over. When their gazes met, Hong Yi's eyes stung and his heart jolted. In that instant, as his Soul seemed to tremble, he understood that this "Little Marquis Wuwen" had unfathomable strength, vitality, and spirit, far beyond his own. Hong Yi looked at the four concubines in the household and thought silently. Just then, everyone around the Marquis Mansion knelt, and Hong Yi bowed down with them. It was the proper etiquette. The entire household fell silent, watching the gate without making a sound. After a long while, another eunuch came in and announced, "Her Highness has arrived." Consort Yuan's visit to meet her family was a major occasion, an event of the utmost importance to the Marquis Mansion—more important even than the New Year. Everyone had to gather and kneel to welcome her; that was the proper courtesy. Hong Yi made up his mind. In an instant, countless thoughts raced through his head before he finally calmed down. Through every dynasty, the histories have treated the path of ghosts and spirits as a minor art. Even when rebels raised armies, they only used it to incite peasants and refugees. Against disciplined troops with steadfast hearts, tempered by mountains of corpses and seas of blood, whose yang vitality surged to the heavens, even the most accomplished Ghost Immortal would be unable to use any spell. That's why no peasant army in the histories ever succeeded through the path of ghosts and spirits. The peasant armies that seemed invulnerable to blades and spears would collapse the moment they encountered the imperial elite. This is one of the lessons of history. It seems that if I want to establish myself, then besides cultivating Soul arts, what matters more is martial skill. Just then, an uproar suddenly rose at the gate. Several red-robed eunuchs rode up, dismounted, and hurried inside. "We welcome the Imperial Noble Consort!" A voice came from inside the palanquin. Not to mention that someone who had trained in fist arts to the level of Grandmaster or even Martial Saint would be even more formidable. Yet Hong Yi sensed that the person in the palanquin had turned her gaze on him as well. It was a gentle look, one of amused interest. "Reward them, then let them go rest," Hong Xuanji said expressionlessly. Lady Zhao immediately understood and had several burly servants escort the eunuchs away to rest and drink tea. Hong Yi knew a little about Hong Xi's past. As the Marquis Mansion's legitimate eldest son, Hong Xi had studied literature and practiced martial arts from the moment he was born. Hong Xuanji had personally trained him, giving him an exceptionally firm Root Bone. It was said that Hong Xi could play with a sixty-jin stone lock when he was only seven. "Her Highness has already left the palace. She'll reach the Marquis Mansion within half an hour, so, Marquis, you should make your preparations." The eunuch who had come ahead to deliver the message spoke in an unpleasant, duck-like voice. Hong Xi stood quietly behind Hong Xuanji. Father and son were alike in stature and had similar features. They were both as still as mountains, naturally awe-inspiring and unfathomable. Once someone surpassed the Martial Master realm and reached the Xiantian realm, the inside and outside of their body became a single iron plate. Their flesh and bones were forged into one. Even a Ghost Immortal couldn't possess them, attach itself to them, or control their Soul. Yet Hong Xuanji and Hong Xi only bowed; neither knelt. When fist arts reach the Xiantian realm, the muscles, bones, skin, flesh, and internal organs all fuse into one. The body and its vital energy become immensely powerful, warding off all ghosts and evil spirits. Even if my Daoist arts reached the heavens, they would be useless against someone like Hong Xi. If he wanted to do something to me right now, I would be helpless. No, I'm still not strong enough. I must train even harder. Hong Yi had read the Daoist Classic and discussed profound principles with Bai Ziyue, a Grandmaster. He knew that even if someone cultivated to the Ghost Immortal realm, they could possess and control another person's body only if that person was below the Martial Master realm. This was an immense honor, one reserved for the highest officials in the empire.
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