Chapter Thirty-Three: The Harsh Conditions for Cerebral Crystalization

After a brief rest, Yun Yufeng pondered his imminent breakthrough. Though the Scripture Tower was not his private garden, and despite possessing the token, he felt it proper to inform the patriarch. Thus, hands clasped behind his back, Yun Yufeng strolled leisurely toward the main hall.

At that moment, his father was in the manor hall, reporting to the patriarch. As Yun Yufeng approached the doorway, he caught his father's words.

"Patriarch, although the family's weapon business hasn't seen much improvement, the previous obstructions have ceased. In the past month, none of our convoys have been robbed. It's truly strange how quickly the trouble came and went."

"Perhaps they were simply bored," the patriarch chuckled. "Qinghe, you needn't worry about this anymore. Focus on running the business; such incidents shouldn't recur." The old patriarch's brow relaxed, confirming his earlier suspicions. Otherwise, things would not have been so sporadic.

Yun Qinghe nodded. "Let's hope it doesn't happen again. Our small family can't withstand such turmoil."

After a month of tension, the patriarch finally eased, smiling. "Did you see Yufeng when you returned last time?"

"Don't mention that rascal," Qinghe burst out. "He nearly drives me mad with his antics. When I entered, the place was in chaos, worse than ever before. At least in the past, he wouldn’t cause trouble at home."

"Really? I haven’t heard anyone mention his misbehavior for quite some time," the patriarch asked curiously.

Yun Qinghe shook his head. "Forget it, let's not talk about that scoundrel." He was about to leave when he saw Yun Yufeng entering with a bright smile, hands behind his back.

"Ah, Father, what brings you here? Yufeng greets the patriarch," he said, feigning surprise, as if he hadn't overheard anything outside.

Yun Qinghe's face darkened. He roared, "You little devil, why can't I be here? If you can, surely I can too!"

Yun Yufeng's cheerful expression collapsed. The storm was still raging; it seemed his father was still brooding over his grandfather’s rebuke, unable to let go even after a month.

"Enough, why scold a child? Shame on you," the patriarch interjected to smooth things over.

Yun Qinghe said no more, his chest heaving.

Yun Yufeng, chastised, remained silent and turned to the patriarch. "Patriarch, I will soon visit the Scripture Tower to see Grandfather."

"Oh? Go on, keep my old friend company. He’s endured much over the years." Hearing Yun Yufeng would visit Yun Feiyan, the patriarch sighed. "In future, you needn't inform me when you visit your grandfather. Go as you please."

"Yes, Patriarch. Then I shall take my leave." Yun Yufeng bowed and departed the hall. Passing his father, he took out two short swords from his spatial pouch and tossed them to him. "Father, I don’t know their exact worth, but they’re better than nothing. Put them in the shop."

Qinghe caught the swords, drew one, and saw the fine patterns on the blade, its polished surface shining like a mirror. When he spotted the tier markings engraved in the cloud motifs, his face lit up with joy. He quickly drew the second, his mouth agape with delight.

"Patriarch, I’ll be going first," he said, and vanished before the patriarch could reply.

The patriarch watched the departing Qinghe, mouth agape, then turned to Yun Yufeng. "Is there something special about those swords? Your father seemed overjoyed."

Yun Yufeng shrugged. "Just two fifth-tier short swords. Is that really such a big deal?"

"What? No, we can’t let him squander them. Go enjoy them yourself." With that, the patriarch disappeared as well.

Yun Yufeng was speechless—had he underestimated the current level of forging?

He didn’t realize that ordinary steel weapons were limited to the fifth tier. To possess a sixth-tier weapon required rare metals beyond steel.

At this point, forging was no longer the focus—it was the domain of artifact refiners, unless a forger had special high-temperature methods to alter materials.

Thus, any weapon reaching the sixth tier, even if forged, was extremely rare, as forging such weapons took months, if not years.

Imagine: artifact refiners only crafted weapons for sale when they needed resources; otherwise, they spent their time cultivating or socializing. High-tier weapons on the market were exceedingly rare.

On the Zichen Continent, martial cultivation was prevalent. Fifth-tier peak weapons were the finest circulating goods, worth a fortune. Weapons were a warrior's second life; a fine weapon was every strong fighter’s pursuit.

Returning to his courtyard, Yun Yufeng greeted Lady Liu the next morning, then made his way alone to the small black room beside the ancestral hall. Two guards stood at the entrance like statues. Yun Yufeng entered with practiced ease, arriving in the tower.

The indifferent elder saw Yun Yufeng enter and smiled faintly. "Child, have you been well these days?"

"Thank you for your concern, Grandfather. I am well," Yun Yufeng replied quickly. In the elder’s simple words, he felt the love of a grandfather for his descendant.

The elder nodded slightly. "You must have come to see me with some difficulty in mind?"

Yun Yufeng nodded, taking out a bottle of wine, a plate of meat, a dish of peanuts, and two pairs of chopsticks from his spatial pouch, arranging them on the table.

The elder watched him set the table, his face alight with joy. "You’re thoughtful, knowing I enjoy a little wine."

"I noticed the scent of wine when I was here last time. This is a special brew I made for you. It helps relax the muscles and invigorate the body—good for you to drink regularly," said Yun Yufeng, seating himself at the table.

He took out two jade wine cups. In truth, 'jadeite' was a name Yun Yufeng himself invented. On the Zichen Continent, green jade was considered the most common type, but Yun Yufeng favored its pure hue and called cups made from it 'jadeite.'

The elder looked at the cups in surprise, and Yun Yufeng smiled. "I just love the pure green of jadeite."

With a pop, Yun Yufeng uncorked the bottle and filled the cups to the brim. The clear wine flowed into the cups, sparkling, its fragrance spreading through the air.

The elder sniffed, savoring the aroma, which lacked any harshness of ordinary spirits. He quickly asked, "Excellent wine, rich and mellow. What is it? I’ve never seen it before."

Yun Yufeng set down the bottle, smiling. "It's from the second distillation—I call it 'Erguotou.'"

Though the elder didn’t quite understand what distillation was, he nodded. On the Zichen Continent, brewing didn’t involve distillation, so local spirits were cloudy and mild, lacking intensity.

He sipped gently, a flush rising to his pale cheeks, and his smile grew broader.

"Grandfather, do you like it? This cooked meat is tender python—fried by your grandson himself."

"Good, good. You’re far more considerate than your father. It warms my heart to see you," the elder laughed heartily, his beard quivering.

Yun Yufeng tasted a slice of meat and a sip of wine, saying softly, "This is wonderful. Though you're secluded here, I'll visit often, and seek your advice from time to time."

The elder’s smile deepened. He grew fonder of the young man before him—so poised and composed at such an age, a rarity, not to mention the wine that could bring fortune at a stroke. With so many mercenaries about, what did they desire most? Divine weapons, fine wine, and women.

"Good, good. It seems I’ll often enjoy such wine, and surely drive Feiyun mad with envy," the elder stroked his beard, as if the prospect of making Feiyun jealous was a source of joy.

Yun Yufeng blinked in confusion. "Who is Feiyun? Is he the patriarch?"

"Yes. Ever since he became patriarch, his name is seldom mentioned in the manor."

"Oh, so that’s why I didn’t know who Feiyun was among the elders."

"It’s understandable. None of you were born when he took office."

"Come, Grandfather, let’s drink a toast." He raised his cup and clinked it with the elder’s, draining it in one gulp.

A strange light flashed in the elder’s eyes. He drained his cup, refilled it, and drank again.

He smacked his lips. "Did you learn this brewing method from some ancient relic?"

Yun Yufeng paused, then looked up. "Unless I’m mistaken, it’s original."

"Original? What does that mean?" the elder asked, baffled.

"Uh... it means the first of its kind," Yun Yufeng answered, smiling wryly, realizing he’d forgotten such a term didn’t exist here.

The elder was thoroughly astonished—his grandson had invented it? This was a lucrative opportunity. Many mercenaries wouldn’t need to return to camp for wine; a single gourd would last them a long time. The days of drinking by the bowl would be gone.

But the elder, though delighted and shocked, suddenly grew silent. The business prospects were obvious, yet the wine belonged to his grandson, and he could not ask for it.

Yun Yufeng noticed this, and the elder’s silence in the face of family interests, especially after just meeting him twice, touched him deeply—family came first.

Yun Yufeng smiled faintly, raising his cup to the light. "Grandfather, do you know, when I had that accident and ended up in the Blackwind Mountains, I witnessed countless tragedies caused by greed. Human life is so fragile. At that moment, I resolved not to let myself be weak."

"That’s good, it’s the heart of a strong one. Do you know how the accident happened?" The elder fixed his gaze on Yun Yufeng, seeking his thoughts.

"Yun Shangmo," Yun Yufeng said, lowering his eyes.

The elder studied Yun Yufeng. "What do you think should be done?"

Yun Yufeng stared at the wine in his cup, its clarity reflecting the night-pearl's glow, like nectar. He picked up a peanut and dropped it in the cup. "Grandfather, see—a peanut in the wine, and it remains clear. But once it’s tainted with oil, the whole cup is clouded."

The elder sighed deeply. "A clan's honor requires everyone’s effort to maintain and strive for. Strife is what stirs the clan’s fighting spirit. There has always been injustice—it is simply the result of one’s strength and strategy. If you are oppressed, it’s because you aren’t strong enough; blame no one else."

Yun Yufeng nodded, understanding. Flowers nurtured in a greenhouse cannot withstand storms. "I understand. That’s why Yun Shangmo was imprisoned—he crossed the line. Yun Yexiang was confined for aiding him. I don’t intend to plot against them—not out of fear, but disdain. If it’s convenient, I don’t mind."

The elder nodded. "Yun Shangdi is the foremost of the younger generation, but he has yet to return. Seeing you now, I am at ease."

Yun Yufeng blushed slightly, grinning. "You flatter me, Grandfather."

"Mm. Did you encounter any difficulties this time?" The elder asked, picking up a piece of python meat.

Yun Yufeng considered briefly, then spoke. "I came to ask Grandfather to describe the details of how the Purple Emperor’s Heart Technique strengthens the brain domain."

The elder’s hand holding the wine cup trembled slightly, his eyes flashing with violet light, as if he could see through Yun Yufeng.

He was silent for a moment before speaking. "The Purple Emperor’s Heart Technique is exceedingly dominant, handed down from the ancestors. To break through the brain domain, there are only two methods: first, with an Emperor to guard you; second, when the soul attains the level of an Emperor—that is, spiritual power."