In the hall, only two figures sat: Yang Yun Tian (Second Elder) perched laterally, while the central seat held a middle-aged man with an ethereal, bone-clear demeanor—Yang Qingxuan, the Patriarch's eldest son and Long Chen's uncle.
Long Chen entered, his gaze locking with Yang Qingxuan. Though his features are kind, his eyes blaze with divine light—a master far surpassing Yang Yun Tian in power. His enhanced cultivation had sharpened his perception.
Yang Qingxuan addressed him. "You are Yang Chen. I've seen you but rarely since childhood, yet here you stand grown."
He hasn't rebuked me yet—hope flickers, Long Chen mused. His philosophy: endure, survive, thrive. Guilty for striking Yang Yun Tian's son, he bowed formally. "Nephew… Yang Chen greets Uncle, Second Uncle." He'd vowed to change his surname but lacked the power to declare it openly—this was temporary.
"Dragon Meridian Realm Level 3, and your physique hints at a forging technique. You've toiled in secret to reach this. Perhaps one day you'll rival Lingqing or Lingyue."
Long Chen humbly demurred, though his mind raced. Why discuss mundane matters? Yang Yun Tian's gaze could kill me.
Yang Yun Tian interjected, "Elder Brother!"
Yang Qingxuan chuckled. "A prodigy, yes, but fratricidal strife is unacceptable. He dealt a heavy blow…"
"Uncle!" Long Chen interrupted. "Combat is unpredictable. At my level, control is impossible—the harm wasn't intentional."
Yang Qingxuan fell silent. Yang Yun Tian rose, his aura crushing Long Chen to his knees. One move could end me.
A voice cut through the tension. "Second Brother, leave him to me." Yang Xueqing entered, and the pressure lifted.
Long Chen exhaled, wary. Her reputation precedes her.
Yang Yun Tian smirked. "Sister may discipline him lightly—youthful spats are trivial." He departed. Yang Qingxuan followed, whispering to Yang Xueqing, "Five days to master Falling Star Fist across realms? The Patriarch may admire such talent. Handle it wisely."
Her expression remained icy. Long Chen anticipated awe but saw only frost. Beating Yang Zhan isn't enough for her regard.
"Spare me," Long Chen sneered. "If not killing, then speak. I've no time to waste."
Yang Xueqing's brow furrowed. "Arrogance suits you—still the same废物. Ephemeral geniuses are common. Only your father's line fancies itself grandiose."
Rage flashed in Long Chen's eyes. He suppressed it.
"Leave, then." He moved past her, but she halted him. "In one month, I wed Bai Zhanxiong. You're banished from White Poplar Town by dawn."
The news stung, yet not unexpectedly. His heart bled—no mother-son duo faced such estrangement.
He turned, eyes cold. "Bai Zhanxiong isn't the saint you claim. I witnessed him abduct girls under sixteen, selling them to shadowy figures…"
Her glare chilled. "To disparage Bai Brother? Lies. We were betrothed before your father intruded. I know him better than you ever will."
Long Chen's fists clenched. Her own son's warning means nothing?
"You judge me by past sins—debauchery, bullying—but I've never harmed the innocent. Bai Zhanxiong has."
Yang Xueqing scoffed. "Your deeds disillusioned me decade ago. Long Clan men are rogues. Why trust you?"
Blood roared in his ears. "As a mother, did you ever guide me? My savage ways stem from abandonment! Yet you blame me? Bai Zhanxiong is the monster, not I…"
She tossed a pouch at his feet—50 spirit jades. "You've never been Yang to me. Take this and go. White Poplar Town has no place for you."
Long Chen spurned the jades. "I'll take nothing." He vanished into the night.
By the river, he shattered boulders, screaming until spent. The Yang Estate loomed like a mountain, crushing his heart.
"Father, I don't know if she's worth it. But I'll stop this marriage. For you, for my pride!"
Nails biting flesh, he vowed, "To be respected, feared, courted—I must ascend to the pinnacle! Thank you for mocking me—now I crave the storm they'll rue! The clan tournament and her wedding will see my fury!"
As night fell, he perched on his roof. Leave town? But I need Dragon Seal. Yet how resist her?
Hunger drove him to Sunrise Tavern. Near midnight, whispers reached him: "Breaking news! Yang Zhan stripped publicly, now dead by suicide!"
Long Chen fled. A coward's end—fitting. But his death makes me a target.
Through secret tunnels, he escaped White Poplar Town. Beyond, the vast Wilderness Mountains beckoned—home to beasts, toxins, treasures.
As he trekked east, a pursuer emerged. Relief turned to irony—Bai Shixun, Bai Zhanxiong's younger son, chased not him, but a floating cold light: a treasure.