Life within the Black Dragon Citadel settled into a new, unsettling rhythm for its two most prized possessions. The Citadel itself, a monument to grim power and shadowy ambition, began to feel less like a prison and more like a gilded ecosystem centered around the whims of its eternal master.
For Su Wan, the First Wife, her days were spent in the opulent solitude of the Phoenix Chamber. Her existence had become a quiet paradox. She was the most honored, yet the most confined. The Lewd Crest on her navel pulsed with a soft, warm light, a constant reminder of her bond and her purpose. The Ancestor visited her not for passion, but for assessment. He would place a cool hand on her abdomen, his glowing green eyes seeing through flesh and bone to the nascent potential growing within—the first scion of his new dynasty. He would sometimes share fragments of knowledge, not out of kindness, but as one might talk to a prized broodmare about the bloodline it carried. "The Phoenix and the Dragon," he would muse, his boyish voice filled with ancient hunger. "A confluence of destinies. This one will shake the heavens." His words were not a father's pride but a cultivator's anticipation of a successful experiment. Her humiliation had been transmuted into a profound, terrifying responsibility. She was the foundation. Her will to resist had not broken, but it had been buried under the immense weight of her new reality.
For Chu Ling, the Personal Maid, the rhythm was one of servitude and simmering shame. Her body, reforged and humming with the Ancestor's energy, was both stronger and more sensitive. Every movement was a reminder of the brands she bore. The golden 有主 on her back seemed to glow hotter when she was in his presence, a silent announcement to any spiritual sense. The silver 陆天 on her hip was a secret thrum against her skin, a intimate claim that made the simple act of sitting a constant, blush-inducing reminder. Her duties were menial, yet performed under the gaze of a god. She served his tea, her hands steady now, her eyes perpetually downcast. She cleaned his chambers, feeling the residual power in the air from his cultivations and her own "preparations." The three-day forging in the formation had left an indelible mark on her soul; a part of her now recognized his energy not as an invader, but as the fundamental force that now sustained her very existence. The hatred for Ye Fan's enemy warred with a horrifying, biological dependency on the monster who had remade her.
One afternoon, as Chu Ling was arranging a vase of soul-nourishing Ghost Orchids, the Ancestor, who had been silently meditating, opened his eyes.
"The air in the Citadel is stagnant with ambition and fear," he stated, his voice cutting through the silence. "We will take a walk. The Luo Region has many hidden currents. It is time I surveyed my new domain more… personally. You will accompany me."
A walk. Such a simple, mundane concept. It felt utterly alien.
They departed not through the grand gates, but via a spatial ripple from the Ancestor's private teleportation formation. They emerged in a bustling, chaotic thoroughfare—the Antic Market of Netherwater City, the largest trading hub in the Luo Region.
The market was a sensory overload. The air was thick with the smell of sizzling spirit beast meat, exotic spices, rare herbs, and the underlying musk of countless cultivators. Stalls lined the cramped streets, hawking everything from flawed spirit tools to ancient-looking (and likely forged) jade slips. Cultivators of every level jostled for space, their auras a discordant symphony of power and desperation.
And yet, a path cleared before the Ancestor. He did not exert pressure. He simply was. Dressed in simple but exquisitely crafted black robes, his boyish face calm, his glowing green eyes scanning everything with detached interest, he radiated an aura of such immense, contained power that common cultivators instinctively shrank back, their instincts screaming of danger. Following a step behind, Chu Ling felt hundreds of eyes upon her. Whispers spread. The Lu Clan's insignia on her robes, her stunning beauty, and her utterly subservient posture—head bowed, hands clasped—told a story everyone understood. She was the visible proof of the Clan's power, a living trophy. The humiliation was public, constant.
The Ancestor, however, was not here for spectacle. He was hunting.
[System, activate 'Fortune's Gaze'. Filter for opportunities with a Destiny Thread connected to Target: Ye Fan. Priority: Low to Medium value. Unclaimed.]
The System interface, invisible to all but him, overlay his vision. The bustling market became a web of faint spiritual lights. Most glowed a neutral white or gray—common treasures, minor fortunes. But then, he saw it. A faint, almost invisible golden thread, thin as a spider's silk, led from the crowd to a dilapidated stall in a forgotten corner.
The stall was manned by a grizzled old man in the Foundation Establishment stage, selling what looked like junk: broken artifacts, chipped spirit stones, and a small, mud-covered cauldron that was missing a leg and was blackened with soot.
To any eyes, even a Core Formation expert's, it was worthless. But the System highlighted it. [Item: damaged Alchemy Cauldron.]
[True Nature: 'The Earth-Swallow Cauldron' (Heavenly Rank, damaged, soul-bound).] [Opportunity: Ye Fan was destined to purchase this for 3 low-tier spirit stones tomorrow. The dormant artifact soul would awaken during a life-threatening crisis in one month, saving his life and becoming a loyal assistant and powerful tool.]
[Recommended Action: Acquire. Denial will slightly reduce Target's Plot Armor and Luck.]
The Ancestor's lips curled into a tiny smile. He approached the stall. Chu Ling followed, confused.
"Esteemed customer!" the old man said, his eyes lighting up at the obviously wealthy noble boy.
The Ancestor pointed a dismissive finger at the broken cauldron. "That. I have a use for scrap metal." His voice was bored, aristocratic.
"Ah! A fine eye! A relic from the—" "One low-tier spirit stone,"the Ancestor interrupted, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.
The old man's face fell, but he quickly nodded. It was junk. A profit was a profit. The transaction was made. The Ancestor didn't even touch the cauldron. He flicked his wrist, and it vanished into his spatial ring.
[Fortune successfully diverted. Target Ye Fan's Luck -0.5%. Karma Point +1.]
He continued, plucking a few more tiny threads of Ye Fan's future: a jade slip hidden in a bundle of firewood that contained a fragment of a lost movement technique, a seemingly inert seed that would only blossom under the unique solar flare of Ye Fan's breakthrough.
Each acquisition was petty, a trifle. But to the Ancestor, it was not about the value of the items. It was about the principle. He was not just stealing Ye Fan's women; he was eroding the very ground of his destiny, brick by tiny brick. He was a gardener patiently plucking the weeds before they could even sprout.
And trailing behind him, Chu Ling witnessed it all. She saw the casual, effortless way he stripped away what should have been another's. Each small, seemingly random purchase felt like another thread of hope being snipped away. The world, she realized, was not a place of justice and struggle. It was a garden, and the Ancestor was beginning his weeding.
---
Deep within the Whispering Jade Secret Realm, a place of crystalline forests and emerald skies, Ye Fan fought for his life.
A three-headed Jade-Scale Python, a beast at the peak of Core Formation, coiled around the spirit tree he needed to reach, its six eyes burning with primal hunger. Ye Fan's clothes were torn, blood seeped from a gash on his arm, but his eyes blazed with unwavering determination. He moved with breathtaking grace, the mysterious ring on his finger glowing faintly, feeding him streams of pure Qi and whispered advice.
'Dodge left! Its middle head is blind on the right side! Channel your fire Qi into the Crimson Cloud Sword! Now!' a melodious, ethereal voice rang in his mind—the voice of his greatest secret, the soul of a powerful empress trapped within the jade pendant around his neck, his beautiful master, Yao Chen.
Ye Fan lunged, the sword in his hand erupting in a plume of spiritual flame. He was a dance of lethal intent, a hero in the making.
But then, a sudden, inexplicable coldness gripped his heart. It was a feeling of profound loss, a void opening in a part of his soul he didn't know existed. His flawless rhythm faltered for a fraction of a second.
SCREECH!
The python's tail, like a whip of scaled steel, caught him across the chest. Bones cracked. He was thrown through the air like a ragdoll, smashing through a cluster of glowing crystals before landing in a heap.
'Fan'er! What is wrong?! Your spirit fluctuated!' Yao Chen's voice was sharp with concern and alarm.
Ye Fan coughed, spitting out blood. The physical pain was nothing compared to the psychic shock. "I... I don't know, Master," he gasped, pushing himself up. "It felt like... like something was just torn away. Something important. A coldness. A bad omen."
He thought of his mother, Su Wan. Was she safe? He thought of Chu Ling, her smiling face flashing in his mind. Were they well?
He focused his spiritual sense, trying to reach the Dao Clone he'd left at home. The connection was there, but it was... dormant. Unresponsive. A deep, unsettling silence. That had never happened before.
'A clone can enter deep meditation,' Yao Chen's voice soothed, though a thread of unease lay beneath her tone. 'Do not be distracted. The path of heaven is fraught with challenges. This is likely a minor tribulation of the heart, a test of your focus. This python guards the Jade Heart Fruit you need to solidify your Core. Do not let a fleeting feeling cost you this opportunity! Your mother, your beloved... they are counting on you to become strong enough to protect them!'
Her words were like a balm. A tribulation of the heart. It made sense. The heavens tested cultivators in myriad ways. This was just another trial. The silence of the clone was likely due to its own breakthrough.
He pushed the cold, omen-like feeling down, burying it under a mountain of resolve. His eyes hardened once more. The pain and the doubt were fuel.
"You're right, Master," he growled, wiping blood from his lip. He stood, his aura flaring brighter than before. "I will not be swayed. That fruit will be mine!"
He launched himself back at the python, his attacks fiercer, more relentless than before. He channeled his vague anxiety into raw, explosive power. The battle resumed, louder and more violent than ever.
Yao Chen, within her pendant, watched silently. She had soothed her disciple, but she could not soothe her own nascent concern. That fluctuation... it hadn't felt like a heavenly tribulation. It had felt like something being severed. But now was not the time for doubt. Her disciple needed confidence.
Meanwhile, back in the Antic Market, the Ancestor finished his small, methodical purchases. He had taken nothing of great power, but he had stolen handfuls of sand from the foundation of Ye Fan's destiny.
The python in the secret realm roared in fury as Ye Fan's sword finally found its mark. But far away, in a silent room in the Ye compound, his comatose Dao Clone lay still, a testament to a loss far greater than any battle. The Ancestor's quiet walk had already claimed its first, indirect victim. The war of attrition had begun.