Returning to the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect, the Holy Son Stands

Han Yu's soul power was completely drained.

The giant sword suddenly shrank, the surrounding murderous aura swirling into the blade until it finally transformed into a three-foot-long sword that slowly descended into Han Yu's hand.

Above the fragments of the Wolf Bandit, a soul ring, pale black tinged with purple, began to rise.

Han Yu closed his eyes in satisfaction, a wave of intense weakness sweeping over his entire body as he collapsed forward.

In the instant before he lost consciousness, he saw the figure of Gu Rong appear before him, catching him steadily.

"Han Yu!"

A flash of sword light streaked by, and Chen Xin arrived at Han Yu's side in a few swift strides, his eyes filled with concern as he began to check his injuries.

"What happened? Didn't I tell you to keep a close eye on Han Yu?" Chen Xin looked toward Gu Rong, his tone filled with reproach.

Gu Rong snorted in annoyance and retorted with a sarcastic edge, "Sigh, who knows who this kid takes after? He's so hell-bent on destroying evil that this Old Bone couldn't hold him back. Rest assured, Han Yu is fine; he just comprehended Sword Intent and exhausted himself from the effort."

"Sword Intent!" Chen Xin exclaimed, his face full of disbelief.

In all their previous training, Han Yu had never shown any aptitude for the way of the sword. Why would he comprehend Sword Intent so quickly? If he had misjudged the boy, he would never hear the end of it from Gu Rong.

Still, this was a good thing. Chen Xin had previously felt a bit unbalanced by Han Yu's talent for formations.

"Are they all dead?" Gu Rong asked.

"No. The commotion just now was a bit too loud, and I was worried about Han Yu." Chen Xin shook his head and looked toward the distant figures. "Let's take them back to the sect together."

With that, Chen Xin pulled out a signal flare. The emblem of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect bloomed in the fireworks, reflected in the eyes of the few survivors.

The next day.

Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect.

Han Yu woke up in his own bed. He lifted his heavy eyelids to survey his surroundings and let out a sigh of relief.

He propped himself up with his hands and looked at his martial soul on his right hand.

Feeling the lingering murderous aura within it, he felt deeply moved; this all-out battle had luckily allowed him to comprehend Sword Intent ahead of schedule.

Just then, the door was pushed open, and Ning Rongrong crept in on tiptoe.

Seeing that Han Yu was awake, a smile instantly bloomed on her small face, and she hurried forward a few steps.

Midway, she seemed to remember something, pouting her lips and lifting her chin as she said, "Look at you, you got hurt. That's what you get for not waiting for me to go with you."

"My talent is just too good, I couldn't help it."

"Hmph, can't you say anything nice?" Ning Rongrong glared at Han Yu, plopped down on the edge of the bed, and pulled out an exquisite medicine box, her feet swinging back and forth.

Han Yu looked at the familiar box, stunned for a moment as he recalled the events of a year ago.

"Oh, I've been studying herbal knowledge properly for the past year, you're so annoying, Han Yu." Seeing Han Yu's reaction, Ning Rongrong blushed with embarrassment and reached out to tap his shoulder lightly.

After a moment of silence, she lowered her gaze, her heart fluttering like a trapped deer, and asked softly, "Han Yu, what kind of girl do you like?"

Han Yu glanced at her and scratched his head. "I'm only seven years old, why are you asking me that?"

He was joking—at this age, in his previous life, he wouldn't have even bothered asking before jumping straight into things. He had no romantic thoughts toward the current Ning Rongrong, treating her only as a little sister.

Ning Rongrong thought for a moment and looked earnestly into Han Yu's eyes. Finding only sincerity there, she smiled and said, "Alright then, but you have to tell me before you start liking any other girl."

"Oh, and Father said he wants to name you the Holy Son. You'll be ranked even higher than me, the Young Sect Master." Ning Rongrong's voice held a hint of nervousness as she watched for Han Yu's reaction.

As far as Ning Rongrong knew, all the soul masters of other surnames favored by her father over the years had been betrothed to others, forming alliances with other powers or talented independent soul masters.

With talent as terrifying as Han Yu's, surely many sects would be lining up to offer their daughters to him.

The mere thought of Han Yu treating other girls as well as he treated her made her heart race and kept her awake at night.

"What, are you unhappy that I'm becoming the Holy Son?" Han Yu leaned in and asked.

"I'm happy! I'm not that petty, okay? Hurry up and get ready to go to the main hall; Father and the others are waiting for you." Ning Rongrong jumped off the bed, feigning indifference, and walked out of the room.

Main Hall.

Ning Fengzhi sat in the seat of honor, dressed in a blue robe embroidered with white cloud patterns. He wore a silver crown on his forehead and was adorned with exquisite accessories, his expression solemn.

Chen Xin and Gu Rong, seated on either side, had also changed into fine attire, clearly having dressed for the occasion, their faces filled with gravity.

Han Yu arrived in the hall, stiffening his posture as he bowed, feeling somewhat uncomfortable with the atmosphere of the day.

"Han Yu greets the Sect Master and the two teachers."

"Han Yu, sit." Ning Fengzhi wore a scholarly smile and beckoned to Han Yu kindly.

On this excursion, Han Yu had not only absorbed a three-thousand-year soul ring beyond his level but had also comprehended Sword Intent, killing a ten-thousand-year-level Wolf Bandit single-handedly.

Such shocking feats truly made Ning Fengzhi unable to sit still. If Han Yu was this terrifying at such a young age, what would he be like in the future?

The Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect had always lacked top-tier combat power, so he had quickly finalized the decision to name Han Yu the Holy Son, fearing that this treasure might slip through his fingers. He even felt that fostering the relationship between Rongrong and Han Yu wasn't so unpleasant after all.

"Han Yu, I presume Rongrong has already told you—the sect wishes to name you the Holy Son, ranking only below me, the Sect Master."

"The entire Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect shall be at your command. What do you think?" Ning Fengzhi said unhurriedly, his tone amiable and kind.

"I am willing," Han Yu replied, his expression unchanged.

Ning Fengzhi's brows twitched, shocked by Han Yu's composure. To think that a mere seven-year-old child possessed such a seasoned temperament; this must be the difference between a genius and an ordinary person.

His face shifted to one of delight as he waved his hand to summon several maids.

Each maid carried a tray, and every item upon them was a priceless, exquisitely crafted garment. They led Han Yu to a side room to change into them one by one, dressing him with meticulous care.

A short while later.

Han Yu's hair was bound by a jade crown, and he wore a dark cyan brocade robe with a narrow gold trim pressed along the collar. The lower hem of the robe featured subtle cloud and water patterns, and a plain sash was tied around his waist, from which hung a golden token of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect.

Ning Fengzhi and the other two were stunned, offering endless praise.

"Han Yu, come with me." Ning Fengzhi stood up and walked to the front, then paused to look back at Han Yu with a smile.

Han Yu nodded, bowed to Chen Xin and Gu Rong, and then stepped forward to follow half a pace behind Ning Fengzhi, his gait steady and composed.

Chen Xin and Gu Rong exchanged a glance, stood up in unison, and walked to Han Yu's left and right, respectively.

The four of them walked together toward the outside of the main hall.

At this moment, the open space outside the hall was packed with people. All sect members at the rank of deacon and above were arranged in square formations, their gazes fixed intently on the entrance of the main hall.

Ning Rongrong stood at the very front, dressed in exquisite finery, her long hair draped over her shoulders. She kept her head lowered, clutching her small hands as her thoughts drifted away.