Chapter 4: Refinement, this tough and grueling journey I
Ling Yun returned to his quarters after sending the Ling clan members away.
As the Heavenly Demon, he had spent countless years cultivating in solitude. Witnessing such heartfelt emotions was something entirely foreign to him. In his previous life, people had revered him as a god to be worshipped—distant, cold, untouchable. But in this life, he was a righteous young master, someone who had willingly sacrificed himself for the sake of his clan.
Ling Yun sat by the wooden desk near the window.
"I thought that after all these years of living, nothing could surprise me anymore… and yet today… people actually came here… for me."
"What is this feeling? …To be cared for?"
But he was a demon. He couldn't afford to understand emotions like that.
For a demon, life was always cold and lonely. Demons had their own rules—and he was bound by them.
"People can hate me or worship me, that's their choice. But I… I can't afford to nurture emotions that might one day be turned against me."
"Cultivation truly is a harsh and unforgiving path… Those who walk the road of power must abandon human sentiments. Emotion and strength stand in opposition. If you want to be loved… you must relinquish the right to be perfect."
His gaze fell to the flowers in the vase.
"Flowers are beautiful… but they only last a few days. Power, though… power endures."
Ling Yun paced across the room, muttering under his breath.
"My only hope lies in refining a cultivation pill. If I can compress spiritual energy and temper this body, I might restore what little I've lost. But with the Dao Curse… I'm bound to fail over and over again. Still, it's the only path I have."
"Contrary to what mortals believe, the Dao isn't a single, fixed road. The Dao branches into countless paths—each distinct, yet connected."
He gently touched a petal.
"The Dao of Fortune. The Dao of Power. The Dao of Wisdom. The Dao of Death. The Dao of Demons. The Dao of Spirits. The Dao of Fate…"
His eyes sharpened.
"If I want to defy fate itself, I must master several Daos at once."
"What I need right now… is the Dao of Fortune, the Dao of Power, and the Dao of Fate."
He fell silent for a long moment, thinking.
"I must avoid the Dao of Demons and the Dao of Death at all costs. The Daos influence each other. Tread the wrong path… and you may never return."
And with that, his mind was made up.
The Next Morning...
The steward of the Feng Clan came to visit Ling Yun.
He hadn't slept a wink the entire night, fully engrossed in crafting a fire-element compatible breathing technique. When he finally opened the door, he was still dressed in a long night robe that loosely draped over his shoulders, revealing the defined muscles of his chest. His long hair spilled over one shoulder, and his face was ghostly pale.
With a hoarse voice, Ling Yun asked,
"Master Steward? Is there a reason you've come to see me this early?"
The steward adjusted the thin spectacles perched on his nose and replied in a calm, measured tone,
"Young Master, forgive me for disturbing your rest. I wondered if you might enjoy a walk around the palace. Perhaps we could talk a little. Staying cooped up in your manor for so long must have grown tiresome."
It was a subtle reference to the previous day's events—a veiled reminder that Ling Yun was being watched.
He had freedom to visit the public library, yes, but he was still very much under surveillance.
Ling Yun offered a faint smile, brushing a hand through his hair. As he began tying it up, he turned back inside to prepare himself.
The Feng estate was enormous.
They passed through several corridors and winding paths before arriving at the rear gardens of the palace…
Along the way, Ling Yun noticed the alchemy hall and began searching for a suitable excuse to approach it.
"Master Steward, the Feng Clan's estate is truly vast and magnificent. Living in a place like this… must be the dream of any noble family."
The steward gave a sharp smirk.
"Indeed, Young Master. This is no small place—so one should be cautious not to wander too freely. In a place this large, all sorts of accidents can happen. And should something go wrong… who would be held accountable?"
Ling Yun offered a slight smile.
"Of course. That makes perfect sense. Still, for a clan powerful enough to build such a grand palace, securing its safety must be well within their means. Otherwise… could they truly be worthy of dwelling here?"
The steward burst into hearty laughter.
"Hahaha! You speak wisely! If a man can't even protect his own house, he might as well return to his mud hut!"
For a moment, Ling Yun hesitated. Was that meant as a joke, or a jab at the Ling Clan?
With the same placid smile, he replied,
"You're right, Master Steward. Some things can only be dreamt of… and others must be earned through effort."
His eyes shimmered with a hidden gleam.
"Did you know… I never wanted to become a warrior in the first place?"
The steward blinked, clearly caught off guard.
The firstborn of the Ling Clan. The one whose very name made other prodigies tremble. The strongest youth of his generation…
Didn't want to be a warrior?
That statement caught the steward's attention.
"Oh? Then may I ask… what was your dream?"
Ling Yun took a deep breath, as if lost in a memory from a distant past.
"I always wanted to be… a scholar."
His gaze drifted toward the Alchemy Pavilion.
"Now that I'm here, in the Feng Clan's palace, perhaps I can finally pursue that dream."
The steward welcomed the idea with a knowing smile.
"How interesting… I never expected the Ling Clan's God of War to have such an academic side."
Ling Yun laughed inwardly—but his expression remained composed and serene.
He'd taken the bait.
Now, he could obtain exactly what he needed.
"In that case… might I ask for permission to visit the library more frequently? And perhaps occasionally drop by the Alchemy Pavilion as well? I came across a few herbology scrolls that piqued my interest—I'd like to research them further."
He paused, offering a sly smile.
"Naturally, any useful insights I uncover will be shared with the Feng Clan's alchemists."
The steward gave a foxlike grin.
"But of course. A genius like yourself shouldn't waste away confined to a single room. Better that you put your brilliance toward research—especially if that's where your true passion lies."
Ling Yun brought his hands together in front of him and bowed slightly.
As his hands rose to partially veil his face, a wicked smile crept across his lips.
"You want to watch me struggle? Watch me spend my whole life clawing to reclaim the cultivation I've lost? Hahaha... Bastard. So you knew. You knew I'd been crippled. My god! Hahahaha! Once again! I've been betrayed—again!
No…
We've been betrayed!
My second life… begins in betrayal."
He barely managed to suppress the violent urge to kill.
When he lowered his hands, his expression had returned to its calm, unreadable mask.
The steward gestured forward.
They passed several grand halls and small mountain peaks before finally arriving at the rear gardens of the Feng Palace.
"Young Master," the steward said, "the clan leader awaits you inside. Please—this way. And just one word of friendly advice…"
The steward paused. His eyes darkened.
"For your own good… don't provoke him."
Ling Yun smiled faintly and offered a polite nod of thanks.
He stepped onto a winding stone path that curled through a grove of drooping willow trees.
Eventually, he arrived at a small pond, where a pavilion stood over the water's edge. Beneath its roof, a middle-aged man sat in quiet contemplation.
As soon as he saw Ling Yun, the man smiled and gestured for him to come closer.
Ling Yun returned the smile with equal calm and approached at a steady pace.
This man was none other than Feng Shan, the head of the Feng Clan.
He was built like a boulder—broad shoulders, solid frame. His given name, Shan (Mountain), was not mere poetry; it was earned. Like a mountain, he had never fallen in combat.
At the Fifth Layer of the Foundation Establishment Realm, he was second only to the Feng Clan's Patriarch himself—who, rumor had it, would emerge from seclusion tomorrow.
Ling Yun bowed slightly and took a seat across from him.
Feng Shan studied him with piercing eyes.
"So… you're the famed Ling Yun?"
His eyes flickered with surprise—just for a heartbeat.
Subtle. Fast.
But Ling Yun saw it.
He caught that brief shift.
A sly smile tugged at his lips.
Without a word, he reached for the teapot and poured two cups—one for each of them.
The aroma of spirit tea began to drift gently through the air of the pavilion.
Feng Shan stroked his beard and gave a slow nod of approval.
Ling Yun took a sip, then spoke in a soft, even voice.
"The world is full of wonders, Elder Feng. Just like the sky's endless depth… the essence of cultivation is veiled in mystery."
Feng Shan gave a quiet chuckle.
Ling Yun's gaze deepened, like still water hiding turbulent currents.
"Friends of yesterday become enemies of today... And enemies of yesterday, sometimes end up sharing tea."
Feng Shan offered a faint smile.
"But the question remains… do yesterday's enemies remain enemies?"
"Or do they… learn to savor the tea instead?"
Ling Yun raised his cup.
"As long as the tea is good— Why raise a sword… When one can simply lift a cup, listen to the birds, and enjoy the view?"
Feng Shan laughed heartily and waved a hand in the air.
"Well said! That's exactly how today's allies should think— So the taste of tea… doubles in pleasure!"