The two landed not far from Utarn City. As soon as they set foot on the ground, Xiao Yan disregarded the Queen of Medusa beside him and, with a slightly clouded face, hurried toward the grand entrance. Nearing the gate, Xiao Yan tilted his face upward to gaze at the large characters—“Utarn City”—hanging on top of it. He involuntarily paused, listening to the roaring crowd coming in muffled waves through the passageway. He softly exhaled and whispered to himself, “Utarn City…I’ve finally returned.” Entering and passing through the dim passage beneath the gate tower, Xiao Yan finally emerged into bright sunlight. As his gaze lifted slightly, the familiar streets, brimming with a mingling intimacy, appeared within view.
“It’s been two years… but not much seems changed,” he murmured softly with a slight laugh, his melancholy easing somewhat amid the gentle feelings of homecoming. Glancing to the side for a moment toward the composed Queen of Medusa who followed at a casual pace behind him, Xiao Yan fixed his gaze forward again and stepped along the street from his youth, hastening his walk. Driven with concern for his family’s situation, Xiao Yan passed through without delay. Along the way, upon passing several market stalls owned originally by Xiao Clan members during earlier years, Xiao Yan briefly paused and observed that the formerly thriving businesses had grown quite barrenly quiet, the activity within much weaker than in years past. He furrowed his brows slightly but pressed forward, quickening his stride each step.
Several dozen moments later, Xiao Yan swiftly passed through alleyways with experienced ease when suddenly he came to an abrupt stop. Looking upward, he viewed an extensive family complex resting at the street’s far endpoint. The massive characters reading “Xiao Clan” on its gate brought an immediate and slow softening sense of peace back to his posture.
Yet upon standing directly in front of his home, Xiao Yan became oddly still, his eyes moving about, recalling the days when this entrance would often teem with guests coming and going ceaselessly. Now, it exuded a cold, hollow quietness—those intimidating doormen who once lined this threshold, their formidable presence a daily guard, now entirely invisible, all absent.
“What, exactly, has transpired？” Xiao Yan asked aloud, frowning inwardly. Glancing again with an air of quiet deliberation to the Queen of Medusa behind, whose presence stirred his voice into sudden calm. After an interval silent hesitation, he softly queried: “Would you do something in my name today?”
Her coldly indifferent voice sliced through like a blade—
“Impossible.” Clearly still angered about his earlier behavior, she cut off his appeal instantly.
“My offer is one of the ingredients required in merging the soul-inducing pill.” Xiao Yan replied evenly.
“Heaven!” The Queen’s eyes flickered with immediate interest. He continued without pause: “One fruit of the Eight-Lined Spirit Needle.” Xiao Yan had carried off many rare herbs obtained deep within the Valley of the Magic Beasts and this particular herb—necessary for the spirit-awoken medicine fusion—was one treasure from among that stash.
“Name thy price.”
“Do not oppose me today, and obey only my voice.”
“Even if bloodshed comes… understood.” With barely an hesitation, the Queen of Medusa gave her swift nod, valuing violence far above any other pursuit.
Smiling, Xiao Yan turned toward the gate and moved forward, when a small defiant yet youthful voice cut from behind—a childish but furious shout rose suddenly within his ear:
“What insolent one dares tread our courtyard? Does thy heart hold no fear toward the Xiao Clan’s might?”
Startled mid-step in his pace, Xiao Yan paused slowly turning toward the source of sound where beyond the main entrance’s rear, a small girl merely around ten to thirteen seasons, fair complexion lit and eyes wide with defiant rage stood glaring back.
“You… Xiao Qing, isn’t it? Young sister of Xiao Mei’s first cousin? Years may have grown between us but you’ve grown much now.” Xiao Qing’s expression wavered, startled to such accuracy as her name slipped out so naturally from this strange visitor before her—her lively eyes shifting momentarily, first upon the Queen of Medusa whose veiled, radiant beauty even now drew gasps. But curiosity passed as swift winds—her focus locked again on Xiao Yan, whose face hinted in shadow some oddly familiar features and whose sight stirred puzzled wonder upon her delicate eyebrows’ knotted thought lines.
Lost in furrowed silence contemplation for moments stretching into an eternal instant, young Xiao Qing’s mind snapped suddenly open, recognition bursting across an instant’s realization. With breath held in anticipation of sudden revelation, those large eyes shone—delighted flames danced within and she could no longer restrain the giddy leap that flung her straight into Xiao Yan’s welcoming embrace.
“Xiao Yan cousin, brother!” she cried, tears brimming over: “Indeed! The one at last? Why so long?” Reaching forward, Xiao Yan caught the girl mid-leap with an amused smile as he stroked her hair gently, his voice carrying soft cadences:
“My clever girl grows closer daily to your older cousin… soon to surpass us all within charm!”
“Tsk… Coooousin! Uwaahhh… they come—bad, mean men every day. They threaten us daily for market dominance! Since Mother said they scheme to take our market stronghold—we’ve locked our home doors! Fear kept us hiding inside…” she whimpered, sobbing against him as she pulled back only to be consoled gently with firm pat upon sobbing back in murmured reassurance:
“All fear may fade… these worries are yours cousin’s charge alone to solve. Lead on… show me within these premises.” Xiao Qing only nodded frantically with teary agreement.
For though long absent, his two-year shadow still carried heavy upon the Xiao’s youths—Xiao Yan’s reputation bolster the clan’s very ascent toward dominance across Utarn when, with his medicinal gift, prosperity flowed. Hence in younger cousin hearts, their elder sibling Xiao Yan, who vanished upon cultivation journeys, had transcended myth.
Standing with his posture fully returned from soft embrace, Xiao Yan cast softened smile toward that joyous young girl skipping along ahead upon the narrow garden paths toward ancestral courtyard. Yet beneath that warm facade lay a creeping storm. His coldly gathered qi coiled behind a calm mask as the air seemed to ripple with deathlike stillness, enough that even the normally disinterested Queen cast a curious upward glance of mild surprise toward rising dark shadows swirling from his aura.
Treading lightly across weathered stone paths winding homeward, Xiao Yan let familiar sights of a long-vanished youth reseed memories across the quiet spaces of his returning passage through a realm not trod these full twenty-four lunar cycles—echoes of boyhood long silenced now murmuring back gently within his inner self.
With Xiao Qing dancing forward eagerly while guiding, it wasn’t long before a wide meeting hall gradually materialized into sight upon the winding garden road’s distant frame—a gathering site where shadows stirred, tension brewing deep.
“That one,” Xiao Qing gestured toward the heavy oaken doors, her tiny fist rising with fierce determination, “There, they lurk—they harm our elders but our clan resists!”
“I knew something serious arose…” Xiao Yan murmured grimly, pressing lips into narrow line as he ascended steps leading to the great entrance’s sealed confines where sounds emerged from behind—a cacophony barely heard through wood.
Beyond the wide hall’s dim candlelight cast uneasy flickering silhouettes upon stone walls; shadows thickened as rival tensions crackled within its heavy atmosphere. A hundred figures clustered tightly together split clearly into camps, eyes locked in mutual hatred thickened to bloodletting pitch.
Within the cluster at the heart of this tension sat Xiao familial dignitaries—the Clanship triumvirate, though all three faces wore pallor stark against fading efforts to conceal internal wounds upon auras weakly held together—internal traumas evident from fluctuating remnants of restrained energy seeping weak beyond cloaks normally concealing mastery.
Opposite them gathered representatives of two rival lineages. The trio occupying the highest chairs within included their leader—the patriarch of the once-humiliated Jallei clan whose power, severely crippled long ago by Xiao Yan himself—Jallei Bi; alongside him—Aubbar Paltun, patriarch and figurehead representing the equally influential Obba family, another longstanding major pillar within Utraar’s former trisection order; between these two seated men a stranger clad in dark-purple alchemical mage’s robe bearing across its chest the silver sigiled seal of an esteemed Apothecary’s Order. Across the garment’s emblem lay Three Ripple Marks—the living testament of an elite Third-Rank Potion Alchemist—a rank that even a modest city like Utraar would kneel to honor if such a treasure dared walk among such unworthy streets, yet such alchemical power was likely what the current three Xiao clan leaders feared most in that shadow-clad figure.
“You insult honor itself with such talk…” Second Elder’s voice rang with cold menace sweeping over rival assembly. “Though Xiao Clan faces temporary strife, would two of great name consider our resistance feeble to so lightly propose exploitation? Utraar’s marketplace was bought in blood not gold—and you seek purchase via trappings worth less than air? Dream folly only.”
Aubba chuckled lowly, an oily serpent’s murmur coiling among assembled wolves.
“Cousin’s jest misreads the hour’s solemnity, good sir,” he purred, “For two cycles your Xiao Clan drained all lifeblood from Utraar’s coffers—if left untamed, soon none left save dust-chokes halls and shattered trade routes. Our very homes—we dwell in. For us to leave here and seek new roots is not simplicity but exile—so beg us to act with mercy.”
“Mercy you bastards call it?! Paying eight thousand gold for what’s worth triple or more! Theft by paper-thin fraud—how dare your tongues twist reason so?!”
Aubba’s placidity remained unbroken. “Indeed, tempers rise—like smoke they choke. Alas, my good fellow, this is beyond your clan’s choosing—we deal fate’s cards as drawn, and we collect, be it through willing trade or…necessitous circumstance.”
“I regret dearly, old enemy,” Jallei Bi hissed softly like a viper in coils, eyes glinting sharp with ancient venom still not dulled by time and loss of grace. “Regrets are but specters feeding ghosts… no cures in the realms of men.”
Yet the elder’s expression never broke shadow as he spat out cold reply.
“A shame I spared a cowardly cur like you… but perhaps the gods grant mercy yet to punish your insolence anew.”
“My thanks… yet none here sells antidote for folly.”
Fingers curled into palm white under pressure as three elders restrained a collective step forward amidst the rising tide. The youngest one barely kept clenched fists still enough to prevent china cracks under fury’s grip.
The silence grew until Jallei’s smirk widened into cruel amusement.
“You seek blood feud against inevitabilities—Xiao’s power is spent in ghosts of yesterday. Call forth this Xiao Zhan should you crave salvation—until then, you remain at table where price demands only one payment.”
At that mockery, the elders seethed inwardly even as hands stayed younger clan arms. From aged mouths echoed solemn vows, a chilling promise of undying hatred.
“Blood debts carry eternally, and ours… shall follow you into final resting dreams,” came that lowly spoken threat. “Especially… Once *he* returns… the reckoning shall drown your names in history’s ash…”
At that simple word, at that shadowy presence invoked across two years of whispered warnings from fearful lips—Jallei’s mirth stammered. Aubba’s wine nearly shattered against clenched grip. Even strangers flinch at ghosts recalled.
Across years faded from memory arose one name still able stir tremors through every heart present—a lone youth who had reduced Jallei’s golden era into dust.
Yet from ashes of his exile rose a tempest no mortal restraint might quell—clouds of rumors still echoed from when that reckless boy faced headstrong against Yun’s celestial sect and left not merely alive—but triumphant amidst celestial ruins left behind… the sheer madness of which turned the blood of every faction here into winter chill.
Yet were it not whispers—whispers of a certain shadowed sage’s revelation that Yun had quietly passed within hidden chambers of those same Cloud-Altars, only the gods know how long the Jalleis might have dared strike their poisoned blows so soon…
“Perhaps we may see this boy sooner rather than later,” Jallei spat slyly, trying to suppress fears buried under false laughter, “Perhaps… upon your deathbeds.”
“Aubba—do we delay longer?” Jallei leaned toward neighboring chair’s occupant, urging forward their prepared coup.
“No time remains for patience—the longer Xiao clan holds the advantage, greater my family approaches ruin’s edge.” Jallei Bi pressed with menace.
“In mourning… I yield,” Aubbar sighed regretfully. “Since reason fails the trio seated yonder… let us persuade by iron tongues.”
One signal snapped and blades hissed from scabbard with hungry gleams—steel eyes reflecting blood promises long awaited as forty-plus braced men moved threatening toward the weary Xiao assembly.
“No turning path! We burn with them if must, claw every hand to ruin…” elder finally snapped back in fury; his shout met with immediate thunder. Behind him, younger cousins rose united, voices rising like war-horns with ancestral pride reborn.
“We wait… endure! We reclaim everything when *Little War Lord* Yan returns!”
Little War Lord—the title granted by council as the Clan’s Future Flame bearer, passed after Yun’s deeds atop celestial halls. Each one’s pride surged with whispers of a child born from their blood, a phoenix rising unscarred through divine conflagrations.
“Then perhaps such fickle chance is not for you,” the previously quiet apothecary finally rose to full height. “A while past your boy cost me a beloved student’s life—I now ask—will one hundred clan lives answer that score’s demand?”
The chamber chilled suddenly—silence reigned—then all present watched with widening horror as Six Star Grand Master qi roared outward suddenly from this man’s frame, pressing the room’s space down as the injured Elder struggled backward several stumbling steps.
“I am… Apothecary Liu, once ally to Clan Jallei…” he spoke now with finality, a name previously unsaid… yet one instantly known by those versed in clan politics—linkage long suspected yet newly confirmed.
“Then may Heaven have their mercy for you…” Jallei Bi sneered softly as he ordered final onslaught.
“Is this… the end for me… for the clan’s fate sealed?” Elder murmured aloud, despair bleeding into every crease across weathered countenance as hostile bodies began forming circle traps tightening in slow malice…
Just then—a piercing noise cut through tension building.
“Creak…”
All heads whirled toward the source—hall doors slowly creaking open. Brilliant light gushed through narrow crack widening second by second—flooding the assembly with golden rays piercing the chamber’s gloom, casting long luminous shadows forward.
Inside all turned toward this entry—a slim, lone figure stepping forward—unassailably composed.
A voice—calm amidst impending death—finally murmured into the hall’s suspended atmosphere:
“My humblest apologies… I return tardily.”
The moment this familiar timbre struck through the silence within aged Elder heart strings snapped taut—his entire body slumped backward in profound overwhelming relief, twin drops of joyful release spilling along with long-hoarded pride bursting forth.
He had come back. XUE Yan—son born of their clan lineage returned once more to face shadow’s wrath… to restore honor once stripped bare… the flame rekindled at last amidst storm’s end.
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