Chapter Twenty-Seven: No Longer a Profligate?

The young girl was now twelve years old, her body beginning to mature, already showing the makings of a beauty. In a few years, she would likely be a woman whose beauty could topple kingdoms. With two exquisite jade hair ornaments adorning her today, she looked even more radiant.

"Thank you, big brother." Xin's voice was soft and gentle.

"This time, I only brought a few gifts for you. In the future, I'll buy you more," Yun Yufeng said.

Yun Yulan's eyes sparkled like stars as she hugged the short sword, clearly delighted with it. Xin gently touched the ornaments in her hair, her smile brightening her face. She blinked and said, "Big brother, did you spend a lot of money?"

Yun Yufeng was taken aback by her question. "Hehe, not much, just a little."

Xin smiled. "Brother, though I don't know how you afforded them, nor how much you sacrificed, I really like them. Thank you, big brother!"

"As long as you like them. Now, tell me about the academy. Has anyone bullied you?" Yun Yufeng poured himself a glass of water and drank it down.

"No one bullied me, but there are a few people I really dislike," Xin pouted.

"Then study hard and leave them far behind in the assessments," Yun Yufeng said lightly. "By the way, when do you return to the academy?"

"We're leaving soon. We took special leave to come back."

"Then hurry back, don't let your tutors scold you."

"Alright, brother, goodbye." With that, the two siblings dashed out.

Returning to his room, Yun Yufeng took out the cultivation notes his grandfather had given him. He was soon engrossed, his horizons suddenly expanded—it turned out that battle energy could be used in such ingenious ways. He pondered and experimented, and in his absorption, accidentally burned a corner of the table, nearly setting the room on fire. This was how Yun Yufeng immersed himself in replenishing his knowledge. It was precisely knowledge that he lacked—he didn't know many of the basics, nor how he had even managed to graduate from the academy.

The old clan chief stood at his desk, his expression grave, quietly listening to the report from the man in green. His brows were tightly knit.

"Clan Chief, our business has shrunk significantly, especially our weapons trade. We've suffered a heavy blow from a recent influx of superior weapons being sold at very low prices. If we engage in a price war, we won't make a penny. The situation is dire; those shops have mysterious origins. I cannot figure out why this is happening."

"Qinghe, you must stay calm, or you'll fall right into their hands." The man in green was Yun Yufeng's father, who had returned specifically to report these troubles to Old Chief Yun.

"I understand, but with no income and huge daily expenses, the family will soon face problems," Qinghe replied.

The old chief tapped the desk with a bent finger. "Qinghe, get to the point. You didn't come all this way just to tell me this, did you?"

"Clan Chief, our escorts transporting red goods have been repeatedly ambushed, but no one is ever harmed; only the goods are taken."

"What do you make of this?"

"The attackers are masked in black scarves, highly skilled, not mere bandits. Our escorts are not that strong, the highest only at late-stage fourth level, so the red goods we carry aren’t that valuable. If the enemy can overpower us so easily, why do they keep robbing us without harming anyone? I don't understand their motive."

The old chief's brows twitched, sensing something amiss. "From what I see, the enemy doesn't wish to harm us, yet they keep robbing us—it's clear what they want. First, they're wary of something; this may be the private action of a few, unrelated to their faction's leadership, and they don’t want to spark a full-blown power struggle. But as things stand, our Yun clan is being suppressed. Second, it could be a cat-and-mouse game, with a devastating strike to come. In either case, we must not lose our composure. Only by staying calm can we find a way out."

"You’re right, Clan Chief. What should we do now?" asked Qinghe.

"Pull back where possible. The escort agency should only take on short-distance red goods. Take a detour rather than risk dangerous ground. Now go—Yufeng has fortunately returned, you should see him," instructed the Old Chief.

"Yes, Clan Chief. Qinghe takes his leave," Qinghe replied, leaving the study for the ancestral hall.

The old chief's face was overcast as he stared blankly for a long time before letting out a heavy sigh. "Is it them? After so many years, why would they contact us like this? How long has it been? Did they have a hand in Shangmo's incident this time? I hope I’m just overthinking it. Yet, I almost wish it were them—at least our people might be spared."

The main hall fell silent, without a sound for a long, long time, as if the clan chief at the desk did not exist at all.

By dusk, the man in green emerged from a small, dark room, his face bruised and swollen, his clothes in disarray. He looked around, saw no one, and slipped silently toward Yun Yufeng’s room.

At that moment, Yun Yufeng was fully absorbed in pondering the wonders of the dantian furnace. A leaping flame was spraying a stream of fiery particles, like the blaze of an alcohol torch.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Yun Yufeng’s hand jerked, the flame surged, and a small lock of hair on his forehead was singed clean off. At once, the air was filled with the acrid scent of burnt flesh.

Yun Yufeng looked at the door, annoyed and resentful. After two knocks, the door was pushed open—Qinghe stood there.

"Grilling meat in your room? And doing it yourself? That's quite the unique hobby." As soon as he entered, Qinghe sniffed the air and looked around, finding no maids or servants.

"Uh..." Hearing his father’s words, several black lines seemed to appear on Yun Yufeng’s forehead. The greatest problem was that this man was his cheap father—and there was nowhere to vent. He could only bow his head and say meekly, "Father, why have you come back?"

"Why shouldn’t I come back? You rascal, is that any way to speak to your father?" Qinghe’s face twisted with irritation. He had just been scolded by the old man, had hurried here to see the son rumored not to be a wastrel anymore, and was now greeted with such a shocking reply.

Yun Yufeng could only smile awkwardly. "Father, are you angry with me too? I spoke wrongly—please forgive me."

Qinghe snorted, stepped into the room, and immediately saw the desk, now pitted and battered. Remembering his miserable experience in the scripture hall, his face darkened further—how unfair this was! It was clear the boy was worse than before. That desk had been there, untouched, for five years, and now, the moment the old man praised the boy, the desk was wrecked. Was this what they called a hidden genius? The more Qinghe thought about it, the more unsettled he became.

He had been lectured and beaten by the old man today, but he accepted it. To be favored by the old chief—what more could a father want? Although the old man hadn’t said much, he expected a display of great talent. But now, looking at his son—his eyes were still his eyes, his nose was still his nose, but was there anything that could possibly please the old chief? Qinghe was utterly baffled.

Turning back, he shuddered, drew a deep breath to calm himself, then spoke: "Feng'er! Can you tell me what just happened?"

Yun Yufeng looked innocent and confused. "What happened? I just heard two knocks at the door, which startled me, and then you came in. Did something happen? I don’t know."

Qinghe’s face turned completely black. How could this rascal turn cause and effect upside down? "I’m talking about the desk! What happened to the desk? Did it make an enemy of someone?"

Yun Yufeng blinked. "Oh, the desk? That was an accident. It’s just not sturdy enough—it needs to be replaced."

Qinghe trembled all over, then finally roared, "You're going to be the death of me!" He threw a book at Yun Yufeng and stormed out in a rage.

Watching his furious father leave, Yun Yufeng was at a loss. This didn’t match his memories at all.

He didn't even connect the bruised, battered look and the rumpled clothes with his father—how much courage did it take to run around the clan in such a state? Later, thinking back, Yun Yufeng could only admire him—his father was truly formidable.

Picking up the book from the floor, he saw the title: "Blazing Wave Slash," with the character "Yellow" in the upper right corner, indicating it was a high-grade yellow-level combat technique.

Yun Yufeng was overjoyed. The techniques in the God of Slaughter’s ancient tower were too advanced—other than support techniques, most required at least fifth-level cultivation. He’d been worrying about how to find a suitable technique; the lesser ones weren’t worth looking at, and even a low-grade yellow technique was as priceless as gold, let alone anything higher.

Though the continent was full of powerful cultivators, combat techniques rarely circulated on the market. Factions never allowed their techniques to leak out; usually, they made handwritten copies, memorized them, then burned the copies to avoid any leaks. And who would dare practice a technique learned by hearsay? A single character’s difference could lead to disaster. If you could spot the flaw, you wouldn’t need the technique in the first place.

Acquiring a technique could elevate a family; leaking one could destroy it.

Yun Yufeng opened the book and discovered that "Blazing Wave Slash" was a sword technique that could unleash multiple explosive strikes in an instant, even splitting waves of water to create a hollow passage.

The key was the blazing flame. For those with other elemental talents, the technique was nothing special, but for those with a fire affinity, its power was multiplied. The wildfire energy, accumulating explosively at the point of contact, could not be released, causing a detonation with terrifying destructive force. Thus, this technique could be seen as an advanced version of the so-called Thousandfold or Hundredfold Wave.

Yun Yufeng memorized the secret method, conjured a flame at his fingertip, and burned the manual. Watching the dancing flame, he sighed in satisfaction—having learned this, everything would be much easier.

[End of chapter]