At Gustave's invitation, Yang Jian remained aboard the Bamboo Staff for the evening meal, hoping that more time would allow Yang Chan to overcome her apparent shyness. However, throughout the entire dinner, his little sister continued to avoid him with the same determined persistence she'd shown since his arrival.
No matter how gently he spoke to her, how carefully he tried to engage her in conversation, or how patiently he waited for her to warm up to him, Yang Chan remained firmly attached to Po's side, peering at Yang Jian from behind the panda's protective bulk as if he were a stranger she couldn't quite trust.
The meal itself was awkward beyond description. What should have been a joyful family reunion had become a painful exercise in forced normalcy, with Gustave and the others making valiant efforts to maintain conversation while the elephant in the room—Yang Chan's rejection of her own brother—cast a shadow over everything.
After the dishes were cleared and the evening began to wind down, Yang Jian finally accepted that his presence was causing his sister more distress than comfort.
"Brother," he said to Gustave with quiet resignation, "I should return to my cultivation."
"Brother, why not stay longer?" Gustave suggested, genuine concern in his voice. "With the time differential between our worlds, you could spend weeks here and lose only minutes in your own realm. This would give Chan'er more opportunity to become comfortable with you again."
Yang Jian's expression grew heavy with the weight of his mission. "While that may be true, my mother continues to suffer beneath Peach Mountain with each moment that passes. The three-year agreement feels like it's slipping away faster than I can grasp it. I cannot allow myself the luxury of extended visits when every day of cultivation could mean the difference between success and failure."
There was another reason Yang Jian couldn't explain in detail—one that made extended stays impossible regardless of the time differential. As a True Immortal, his cultivation now required spiritual energy and resources on a scale that the One Piece world simply couldn't provide. The cosmic laws governing this dimension were fundamentally different from his native realm, and forcing his immortal-level cultivation here would gradually drain the world's natural spiritual reserves.
Only the primordial chaos of the prehistoric world, with its infinite spiritual energy and laws of heaven and earth designed to support transcendent beings, could sustain the kind of intensive cultivation he needed to reach the Taiyi realm.
"I understand your urgency," Gustave said softly, recognizing that further persuasion would be both futile and selfish. "Then I wish you great success in your cultivation, Brother."
"Thank you for your understanding, Brother."
With one last longing look toward where Yang Chan sat stubbornly hidden behind Po, Yang Jian walked toward the Gate of All Worlds with determined steps. Every fiber of his being wanted to stay, to somehow bridge the gap that had opened between him and his sister, but duty and filial piety demanded otherwise. His mother's liberation from her mountain prison remained his highest priority, no matter the personal cost.
After Yang Jian's departure, Gustave found Yang Chan still clinging to Po's leg like a limpet.
" Chan'er," he said gently, crouching down to her eye level, "your second brother has gone back to his world."
The little girl didn't respond verbally, but her grip on Po tightened fractionally.
"Can you tell me why you were avoiding your second brother?" he asked as carefully as possible, lifting her into his arms. "He seemed very sad that you wouldn't speak to him."
But Yang Chan remained stubbornly silent, her small mouth set in a pout as she stared in the direction where Yang Jian had vanished. Something was clearly troubling her deeply, but she lacked either the vocabulary or the willingness to express it.
Recognizing that pressing her further would accomplish nothing, Gustave simply held her quietly, allowing her to process whatever complex emotions were churning in her young mind.
Several days passed before Yang Chan returned to her normal cheerful disposition. Soon she was playing enthusiastically with Shin-chan and the others, running to the beach to cheer on the hard-training Yamabuki students, and displaying none of the withdrawn behavior that had marked Yang Jian's visit.
Watching her laugh and play in the distance, Gustave felt a pang of sympathy for the absent cultivator.
"Brother," he murmured to himself, "I can only hope you succeed in rescuing your mother quickly, so that you'll have more time to spend understanding Chan'er."
Meanwhile, in the Bajing Palace, Yang Jian had returned to his personal cultivation chamber with renewed determination. The pristine hall, carved from white jade and infused with countless layers of protective formations, provided the perfect environment for intensive spiritual practice.
However, after several days of his usual cultivation routine, Yang Jian encountered an unexpected and deeply troubling problem—his progress had completely stagnated. No matter how diligently he meditated, how precisely he circulated his spiritual energy, or how intensively he practiced the Method of Love and Hate, his cultivation base refused to advance even slightly.
This was unprecedented. Throughout his time at the Bajing Palace, his growth had been steady and dramatic, each breakthrough building naturally upon the last. The sudden halt was not only frustrating but genuinely frightening, given the time constraints of his mission.
Left with no other option, Yang Jian sought guidance from the person who had served as his primary instructor throughout his stay.
"Senior Brother," he called respectfully outside the entrance to Master Xuandu's cultivation hall, "Qingyuan requests an audience."
"Enter, Junior Brother."
The massive doors swung open silently, revealing Master Xuandu seated in lotus position three feet above the chamber's floor, surrounded by swirling patterns of spiritual energy that made the air itself shimmer with power. As the sole direct disciple of the Moral Lord and the eldest among all second-generation disciples of the three great sects, Master Xuandu's cultivation was so profound that Yang Jian could barely sense its depths.
"Senior Brother," Yang Jian said with a formal bow, "Qingyuan has encountered a problem in cultivation and hopes for your guidance."
"Speak freely," Master Xuandu replied, his voice carrying the patient authority of someone who had guided countless disciples over millennia.
Since the Moral Lord's true body remained outside the Nine Heavens in perpetual cultivation, Master Xuandu had naturally assumed responsibility for Yang Jian's daily instruction. In many ways, he served as a second master to the younger immortal.
"After returning from visiting Brother Gustave and my sister Yang Chan," Yang Jian explained carefully, "I found that my cultivation has completely stagnated. Despite maintaining the same practices that previously yielded steady progress, there has been no advancement whatsoever."
The Moral Lord had, of course, informed Master Xuandu about the existence of both Gustave and the restaurant. Such information was necessary to prevent any unfortunate misunderstandings should Gustave ever arrive at the Bajing Palace unannounced—being accidentally obliterated by a protective formation or defensive senior brother would serve no one's interests.
Master Xuandu remained silent for several moments, his ancient eyes studying Yang Jian with the penetrating gaze of someone who could perceive spiritual conditions invisible to lesser cultivators.
"Since arriving at the Bajing Palace," he finally said, "you have devoted yourself entirely to intensive cultivation. While it's true that we immortals can remain in closed-door cultivation for thousands of years at a time, the Method of Love and Hate that you practice operates on fundamentally different principles."
Yang Jian listened intently, sensing that crucial understanding was about to be revealed.
"The Method of Love and Hate cannot be practiced in isolation from the world," Master Xuandu continued. "Its power derives from the seven emotions and six desires that govern mortal existence—love, hatred, joy, anger, sorrow, fear, and desire. It is a cultivation path that requires engagement with the world rather than withdrawal from it."
The explanation struck Yang Jian like a thunderbolt of clarity. He had been treating his unique cultivation method as if it were a traditional immortal technique that could be refined through pure meditation and energy circulation.
"Before achieving True Immortal status, your foundation was still being established, so secluded cultivation remained effective," Master Xuandu explained. "However, now that you have stepped onto the true immortal path, continued advancement requires you to experience and understand the full spectrum of mortal emotions and experiences. You must go out into the world and observe all living beings, drawing strength from their hopes, fears, loves, and hatreds."
"I understands completely!" Yang Jian exclaimed, bowing deeply in gratitude. "Thank you for resolving my confusion, Senior Brother!"
"Go then," Master Xuandu said with a slight smile, "and observe the myriad forms of sentient life."
With a casual wave of his hand, Master Xuandu's power transported Yang Jian instantly from the Bajing Palace on Mount Shouyang to the outskirts of a bustling human city thousands of li away.
Standing on a hill overlooking the settlement, Yang Jian couldn't help but marvel at his senior brother's casual display of power.
"Senior Brother's abilities are truly profound," he murmured in amazement.
Though Master Xuandu had never explicitly stated his cultivation level, Yang Jian estimated it must be at least in the Daluo realm, and quite possibly higher. There were even rumors that he had begun walking the path toward sainthood, perhaps having already killed one of the Three Corpses to achieve quasi-saint status.
Now that he understood what was required, Yang Jian suppressed all traces of his immortal aura and magical abilities, transforming his appearance to match that of an ordinary mortal. Only by experiencing the world from a truly human perspective could he hope to understand the emotions that powered his cultivation method.
The human city below sprawled across several square li, its walls rising high and thick to provide protection against the various supernatural threats that still plagued the mortal realm. This was still the age when Great Yu ruled the human race, a time when humanity had claimed the role of the world's protagonists but remained physically vulnerable to demons, monsters, and supernatural predators.
Cities like this one served as fortified bastions where humans could gather in sufficient numbers to defend themselves effectively. Villages and farming communities clustered close to the city walls, ready to retreat behind the fortifications at the first sign of danger, while the city's garrison could sally forth to provide support when needed.
In response to their inherent physical limitations, humanity had developed a unique path of power—martial arts. While the immortal way remained impossibly difficult for most people to pursue, martial arts offered a practical method for quickly acquiring the strength necessary to resist supernatural threats.
A martial artist who reached the pinnacle of their discipline could generate qi and blood so powerful it shook heaven and earth, achieving combat effectiveness comparable to ordinary immortals. When such masters organized themselves into formation-based military units, their coordinated might could challenge even supernatural armies.
The limitations of martial arts were significant—practitioners gained no additional longevity, and even the greatest masters were only equivalent to the lowest tier of immortals. Still, for those who couldn't access the immortal path, martial arts represented their best hope for survival and power.
Yang Jian had studied martial arts during his youth at Guanjiangkou, though his lack of dedication at the time had prevented him from making significant progress. His elder brother Yang Jiao, however, had possessed genuine talent for the martial way.
Walking through the city's gates and observing the crowds gathered around various martial arts schools and training halls, Yang Jian found himself remembering those earlier days when life had seemed simpler.
Then, inevitably, his thoughts turned to Yang Jiao's fate. His elder brother—a martial arts genius in his own right—had sacrificed himself to cover Yang Jian and Yang Chan's escape when the Great Golden Crow's celestial forces attacked their family. Yang Jiao had fought desperately against impossible odds, buying precious time with his life before being reduced to ash and scattered to the winds.
The memory hit Yang Jian like a physical blow, filling him with such intense hatred for the Heavenly Court and its agents that his entire body trembled. His hands clenched into fists as he stared up at the sky, silently swearing that the Emperor of Heaven—that supreme ruler who commanded the chaos of the prehistoric world—would someday experience every moment of suffering that Yang Jian's family had endured.
In that instant of pure, crystallized hatred, Yang Jian felt his spiritual cultivation suddenly surge forward, advancing noticeably for the first time in days.
"Just as Senior Brother said," he realized with growing excitement, "only by feeling the lives and emotions of all living beings can true progress be made."
With this revelation burning in his heart, Yang Jian became even more enthusiastic about his journey of worldly observation and emotional understanding.
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