As soon as the patrolling soldier recognized the figure approaching, his legs almost gave out beneath him. That face—yes, unmistakable! It was him.
The last poor soul who dared block Young Master Yang's path had vanished the next day without a trace. They all knew better now. The soldier straightened up, beads of cold sweat gathering on his forehead as he bowed deeply and stammered, "Young Master Yang! Forgive my ignorance, I didn't realize it was you!"
Yang Haoxuan paused for a moment, a little surprised by the man's reaction. Then, with a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips, he nodded and strolled through the city gates.
So this is what it feels like to be respected… no, feared, he mused, relishing the sensation. No wonder those arrogant young masters in the dramas always act so smug.
For the first time, he felt that maybe playing the role of a rich, infamous wastrel wasn't so bad after all.
Still, he reminded himself to keep up appearances once he returned to the Yang estate. If his notoriously domineering father suddenly saw his son transformed into a law-abiding gentleman overnight, he'd definitely become suspicious. That was not a risk he could afford—not while he was still figuring out this world and its rules.
As he wandered through the city streets, Haoxuan couldn't help but be surprised. Damn, this isn't what TV dramas made it look like at all…
The roads were broad—at least ten meters across—and paved with large, pristine tiles that gleamed like polished jade. There were no street vendors shouting in chaos; instead, most businesses operated out of lavish, well-maintained storefronts. The signs, the architecture, the sheer wealth on display—all pointed to a prosperous nation. So this is Dayan? Richer than I thought.
He coughed awkwardly and muttered under his breath, "Now, where the hell is the nearest brothel?" His tone was light, half-teasing, as his mind drifted to the half-naked, flirtatious courtesans of TV fantasy dramas.
"Young Master?!"
A surprised voice jolted him from his reverie. A young servant in simple garb rushed over, eyes wide in disbelief.
"It really is you! Thank heavens, you're alive!"
"You're the one who's dead!" Yang Haoxuan snapped instinctively, then paused. Wait… I know this guy. He used to serve me.
With a wave of his hand, he ordered, "Go back and tell my father I'm safe. I'll head home later—want to take in the city a bit more."
"Yes, Young Master! Right away!" The servant nearly tripped over himself in his haste to deliver the good news.
Back at the Yang estate, tension hung in the air like a storm about to break. On the surface, everything appeared calm—but inwardly, many of the clan members were holding back smirks. The truth? They were glad the 'demonic' Young Master was gone.
But none dared show it. Not while the patriarch, Yang Batian, was still grieving.
When the little servant came crashing through the main hall like a whirlwind, the onlookers froze, faces stiff with shock. Was he mad? Barging into the clan head's chambers like that was suicide.
Indeed, Yang Batian looked like he'd aged decades in the past two days. His eyes, once sharp and fierce, now held the weight of despair. As the servant burst in, Batian's face darkened, and a terrifying aura began to swell around him.
"You better have a damn good reason," he growled, muscles already tensing as he prepared to strike.
"Clan Leader! Good news! Incredible news!" the servant blurted out, nearly sobbing in fear. "Young Master Haoxuan—he's alive! I saw him with my own eyes!"
"What?" Batian's eyes snapped open wide.
The servant nodded rapidly. "He told me to return and report. He's out strolling the city right now."
Yang Batian shot to his feet as though struck by lightning. "He's alive?! Truly?!"
The servant confirmed again, and the stern patriarch broke into uncontrollable laughter, tears springing to his eyes. "Heaven hasn't abandoned the Yang bloodline after all!"
Meanwhile, Yang Haoxuan's mood was beginning to sour.
He'd hoped to enjoy the exotic flavor of this new world for a while longer, but everywhere he went, shopkeepers froze in terror at the sight of him. Some couldn't even form words. One bold woman even spat in his direction before ducking into an alley.
The hell? I didn't even do anything! Must be this body's reputation again…
With a sigh, he turned back toward the Yang estate.
Just as he arrived at the gates, he saw a familiar figure pacing outside—his new world's father, Yang Batian, unable to sit still, anxiety carved into his features.
When their eyes met, the old man rushed forward, tears gleaming in his eyes, and wrapped Haoxuan in a crushing embrace.
Caught off guard, Haoxuan hesitated—but as he felt the warmth and genuine concern in the man's grip, something in him softened.
This man really cares… Not bad for a father in a xianxia world.
Instinctively, he activated the system's inspection function.
Name: Yang Batian
Level: 43
Cultivation Realm: Martial Grandmaster, Stage 2
Class: Warrior
HP: 24,700 / 24,700
MP: 15,740 / 15,740
Strength: 21,412
Wisdom: 342
Spirit: 121
Agility: 15,745
Combat & Life Skills: Locked (level difference too great)
Damn… my old man's built like a raid boss, Haoxuan thought, slightly in awe.
Their reunion was heartwarming, but the mood in the capital was anything but. Most of Dayan's nobles, who had celebrated Haoxuan's "death" the night before, were now gritting their teeth. The heavens, it seemed, had played a cruel joke.
And no one was more uneasy than Yang Ruolan and Yang Peng—the two who had abandoned Haoxuan when he needed help the most.
Inside the Yang clan's grand hall, elders and stewards had begun to gather, most of them relatives from competing branches of the family. These men had long eyed the patriarch's seat, and Haoxuan's death had seemed like the perfect opportunity to use clan law to force Yang Batian's abdication.
But with Haoxuan now alive, they were stuck. Any rash move would be seen as breaking sacred clan rules—rules they themselves had used to justify their schemes.
Now, all they could do was sit and stew, casting cold, resentful glares at Haoxuan.
Why couldn't you have just stayed dead? many of them thought. If that waste ends up as the next clan head, we're doomed!
Fortunately for them, Haoxuan's past reputation as a useless dandy still lingered. They all agreed—there was no way he'd survive the upcoming clan trial, which required a Martial Artist Level 6 cultivation. He'd be disqualified and sent off to obscurity.
Then, they could strike.
"Haoxuan!" Yang Batian cut through the tension, ignoring the others. "Tell me what happened out there! How did you survive?"
Haoxuan hesitated for a breath. I need to play this right. If I want access to clan resources, I can't let them know the truth. Not yet.
Putting on his old, cocky facade, he said, "It's like this, Father—while I was in the mountains, I got ambushed by a pack of wolves and was forced deeper into the forest. Just when I thought I was done for, an old man appeared out of nowhere and saved me. He even helped me restore my dantian!"
"What?!" Yang Batian's eyes widened in joy. "You… You can cultivate again?"
"Yes. I think I've recovered to about the second level of Martial Artist."
Gasps echoed through the hall, but most were laced with disbelief.
This brat's always talking nonsense, many thought with scoffs. His dantian was shattered—he's lucky to be alive. And now he's saying he's back to cultivating? What a joke.
Young clan members chuckled under their breath, smug in their superior cultivation levels.
But then—
Yang Haoxuan stepped forward without a word, clenched his fist, and focused. From within, a fiery glow began to pulse.
With a shout, he slammed his fist onto the nearby wooden table.
BOOM!
The table exploded into splinters, and Haoxuan's hand remained completely unharmed.
A heavy silence fell.
Dozens of eyes stared at him, wide in shock.
He really did it… He's cultivating again?!
Though the restoration of a shattered dantian was supposed to be impossible, Haoxuan had just proven otherwise. Still, many reassured themselves—he was only at level two. There was no way he'd reach level six in just one year.
What they didn't know was that his current strength wasn't left over from before.
He had built it from scratch—overnight.
Seeing the effect his demonstration had, Haoxuan struck while the iron was hot. "Father, I need a cultivation technique. Something I can train with."
"Of course!" Yang Batian laughed heartily. "Go to the Technique Hall tomorrow—you can choose for yourself."
Haoxuan nodded, and under the heavy, watchful gazes of the clan's elders, retreated to his chambers.
Reclining on the luxurious bed, arms behind his head, Haoxuan fell into deep thought.
So this world's cultivation system is all about strength and agility… It's basically a melee warrior's paradise. My mage skills are going to look pretty weird around here.
He sighed. "If I'd known, I would've dumped all my points into Strength. Magic's convenient, sure—but too flashy. Not to mention, my spells are pretty one-note compared to the sword techniques here…"
It was frustrating. Every attribute point he spent had to power three different classes. But somehow… he had a feeling that as he leveled up, that limitation might change.
The next day, he entered the Technique Hall, curious about what this world's martial arts had to offer.
He picked up a random scroll. As soon as he opened it, understanding bloomed in his mind.
Whoa… so that's the benefit of having high Wisdom stats.
He flipped through scroll after scroll. Most cultivation methods focused on absorbing spiritual energy and storing it in the dantian—completely useless to someone whose dantian had once been shattered.
After a long search, one technique finally caught his eye: The Longevity Codex.
The bold inscription promised: "Cultivate this, and attain immortality."
But beneath it, in the Yang clan's own annotation, someone had scribbled: "Completely useless. Good for children and the elderly to strengthen the body. Decorative trash."
Haoxuan smirked.
Perfect. If everyone thinks it's trash, no one will bother me while I figure it out. And with that, he took it.