Chapter 5
The world snapped back into focus. Ye-Liyun was lying on the cold stone path, the pain in his abdomen returning with a vengeance. He was back.
He dragged himself into his small, neglected room, collapsing onto his straw mat. He was alive, but his mind was a storm of confusion and rage. The Emperor's words echoed in his mind: "Your mother… she knew the price." He looked at the wooden ring, the silent source of all his misery.
A sharp knock interrupted his thoughts.
"Young Master Liyun! The Clan Head has sent me to tend to your… injuries."
Steward Lin entered, a sickly sweet smile plastered on his face. He carried a basin and a rag, but his eyes held a malicious gleam.
"Such a shame, Young Master," the Steward cooed, kneeling beside him. "To be beaten so badly by your own brothers. Don't worry, I'll clean you up."
The Steward dipped the rag and, instead of gently wiping the blood, he pressed the rough cloth directly onto Ye-Liyun's most painful internal bruises, grinding the fabric into the raw skin.
Ye-Liyun gasped. "Stop! That hurts!"
"Hurt?" the Steward feigned surprise, his smile widening. "Nonsense. This is a special medicinal wash. It must be rubbed in deeply to work. You wouldn't want to end up in the stables, would you?" The Steward continued the abuse, his fingers digging into Ye-Liyun's ribs, intentionally causing fresh waves of pain.
The humiliation was the final straw. Ye-Liyun's rage erupted. With a guttural cry, he lashed out with a desperate, sweeping kick that caught the Steward off guard. The Steward tumbled backward, the basin of water splashing over his expensive robes.
Steward Lin scrambled back, his face a mask of shock and fury. "You… you trash! You dare attack a steward! I'll tell the Clan Head you attacked me unprovoked!"
Ye-Liyun, though shaking with pain, pushed himself up onto his elbows. His eyes were cold. "Go ahead. Tell him you found me bleeding and then intentionally tortured me. Go. Now."
The Steward, seeing the cold resolve and fearing the Clan Head's wrath, snatched up the basin and scurried out of the room.
Ye-Liyun collapsed back onto the mat. He was alone, broken, and now he knew the truth of his betrayal. He looked down at the wooden ring. He had rejected the Emperor, but the Emperor held the only key to his survival. He had to go back.
He closed his eyes, focusing all his will on the ring, trying to replicate the feeling of falling. Suddenly, the wooden ring pulsed with a faint, cool energy. Ye-Liyun felt a familiar, dizzying pull.
He opened his eyes and found himself back in the pavilion, sitting before the Ancient Immortal Emperor.
"Welcome back, Ye-Liyun," the Emperor said, a faint smile on his lips. "I knew you would return. Now, about that contract…"
"I accept," Ye-Liyun cut him off, his voice raw with desperation and cold resolve. "I will gather your resources. I will restore your life force. But you will teach me everything. You will make me stronger than anyone who has ever humiliated me."
The Emperor nodded slowly. "A fair exchange. The first step is to heal your shattered meridians and break through the Physical Refining Phase in one night. I will give you the Supreme Immortal Body Refinement Art. But to begin, you need a single, potent spiritual herb: the Crimson Sun Grass, found only in the most dangerous part of the Ye Clan's medicinal garden. Go now, before the sun rises."
Ye-Liyun felt a surge of energy, a promise of power he hadn't felt in years. He was ready.
The Supreme Cultivator's Return
Chapter 6: The Father's Betrayal (Approx. 700 Words)
The Emperor's eyes suddenly widened, his serene expression replaced by a look of profound alarm. He shot a hand out, grabbing Ye-Liyun's arm with surprising strength.
"Wait! Something is wrong! A powerful spiritual fluctuation just swept over the clan grounds! It's the Clan Head! He's not just checking on you—he's using his full spiritual sense to search the entire estate! He's looking for the ring!"
Ye-Liyun froze, his blood turning to ice. His father? Looking for the ring?
"He knows about the artifact!" the Emperor hissed, his voice strained. "He must have known all along! He's coming for you now!"
The light in the Pocket Realm began to flicker violently, and the Emperor's grip tightened, his ancient eyes wide with genuine fear.
"You must leave now! If he finds you with the ring, he will kill you and take it! Go! Go to the medicinal garden! Now!"
The Emperor shoved Ye-Liyun violently, and the world dissolved into a blinding flash of white light.
Ye-Liyun slammed back onto his mat, the pain of his injuries instantly returning. He scrambled to his feet, his heart hammering against his ribs. The Emperor's words were a siren of terror: He's coming for you now!
He heard it then—a faint, rhythmic thump-thump-thump echoing from the main courtyard. It was the sound of a powerful cultivator moving with speed and purpose. It was the sound of his father.
Ye-Liyun knew he couldn't fight. His cultivation was zero. His father, a master of the Core Formation Realm, could crush him with a thought. He had to move.
He slipped out the back door of the servants' quarters, moving like a shadow toward the high wall that separated the main estate from the forbidden medicinal garden. He could hear the thump-thump-thump getting closer, closer to his room.
He reached the wall, his hands scrabbling for purchase on the rough stone. He pulled himself up, ignoring the searing pain in his ribs. He threw one leg over the top, his eyes darting back toward the courtyard.
A figure appeared at the entrance to the servants' quarters. It was his father, the Clan Head, his face a mask of cold, terrifying fury. He wasn't looking for a sick son; he was hunting an artifact thief.
The Clan Head raised his hand, and a wave of spiritual energy—a palpable, destructive force—slammed into the door of Ye-Liyun's room, shattering it into splinters.
Ye-Liyun didn't hesitate. He dropped down the other side of the wall, landing hard on the soft, damp earth of the forbidden garden. The air here was heavy with the scent of spiritual herbs, but also with danger.
He heard his father's roar of rage from the other side of the wall, followed by the sound of stone crumbling as the Clan Head prepared to breach the barrier.
Ye-Liyun ran, plunging deeper into the dark, overgrown garden. He rounded a massive, ancient rock formation and stopped dead. Before him, in a small, moonlit clearing, was a single, low-growing plant. Its leaves were a deep, blood-red, and its central bud pulsed with a faint, crimson light—the Crimson Sun Grass.
He dropped to his knees, his hands reaching for the herb. He had to get it. He had to live.
Just as his fingers brushed the cold, damp leaves, a voice boomed from behind him, shaking the very earth.
"STOP, THIEF! DROP THE ARTIFACT!"
Ye-Liyun froze. He didn't need to turn around. The sheer, crushing spiritual pressure of a Core Formation master was enough to paralyze him.
He heard the heavy footsteps right behind him. He knew the next sound would be the end.
With a final, desperate surge of defiance, he snatched the Crimson Sun Grass from the earth and shoved it into his mouth, chewing frantically.
The roar of his father was the last thing he heard as the spiritual energy of the Core Formation master slammed into his back.
"YOU WILL NOT ESCAPE ME!"