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Chapter 41 - The past was really the worst.

When Fu Yang finally drifted into sleep, he did not fall into darkness. Instead, he found himself standing in a world woven from fragments of memory — cold, white, and unbearably still. Snowflakes drifted down like falling ashes, settling over a courtyard he somehow recognized.

He was outside the Tian household.

A crowd had gathered, their breaths misting in the winter air, faces bright with anticipation. They stood before a tall, elegant building whose red pillars gleamed faintly beneath a coating of frost.

Fu Yang looked down at himself and realized with a start — he was just a frail child again. His clothes were thin and tattered, his hands trembling from the cold. Yet even in that weakness, his eyes held a stubborn spark, one that refused to be extinguished.

People whispered around him, waiting for someone to emerge from the grand hall. Then, the heavy wooden doors creaked open. A blinding light spilled out, and from it stepped a girl — beautiful, radiant, her very presence commanding awe.

Her long hair fluttered like silk in the winter breeze, and her robe shimmered faintly with spiritual energy. The crowd erupted into cheers.

"She's done it! She's broken through the Intermediate Stage!"

"Truly a genius"

Fu Yang's lips parted in admiration. The girl — Cin Yan — stood with quiet grace, bowing slightly to those who praised her. Even at that age, she carried herself like someone destined to touch the heavens.

Gathering what little courage he had, Fu Yang stepped forward. The crowd fell silent for a moment, their eyes narrowing as the shabby boy approached their shining star.

"Congratulations, Miss Cin Yan," he said softly, bowing low. His voice was trembling, but his sincerity was clear.

The onlookers murmured in disgust.

"Who is this beggar child?"

"Does he not know his place?"

Before their contempt could strike deeper, Cin Yan turned her gaze toward him. Her lips curved into a bright, gentle smile — a smile that could melt even the coldest snow. She nodded at him, her eyes warm.

"Thank you," she said.

But when Cin Yan turned and left with her elders, the world's cruelty returned. A sharp kick landed against his side.

"Out of the way, rat!"

"Don't taint the steps of the Tian household with your filth!"

Fu Yang stumbled backward, falling into the snow. The crowd's laughter echoed as someone threw a clump of ice at him. But he did not cry. He wiped the blood from his lip, his small body trembling — not from fear, but determination.

"Dump…" He winced as another clod hit him. Then he grinned through the pain.

"Ouch… Humph, how dare they throw me like this!" he muttered. "But it doesn't matter. I'll work harder from now on. I'll become strong — so I can stand beside Miss Cin Yan because I am not a little child you think, it's just this body is too weak, i need to wait for the heavenly opportunity!"

He threw his head back and laughed, his voice echoing into the snowstorm.

"Hahahaha!"

The laughter twisted, echoed, and broke apart as the dream dissolved into mist.

---

"Huh—!"

Fu Yang woke with a sharp breath. His heart was pounding. He sat up, blinking at the dim light spilling through the paper window. The faint scent of incense filled the small chamber. Afternoon sunlight slanted across the floorboards.

"So… it was a dream," he murmured, rubbing his eyes. "Hmmm."

But the emotions still lingered — that bitter cold, that smile. The echo of laughter and pain tangled together in his chest. For a moment, he simply sat in silence.

Then, his expression hardened.

A faint presence brushed against his

senses— steady, familiar, and close. Someone was outside his door, back leaning against the frame. Listening, perhaps… or guarding.

Fu Yang smiled faintly. "Master Wan," he whispered.

The old man had likely come to check on him, ensuring he was well during his three-day seclusion. Even now, Master Wan remained the only person who silently watched over him without asking questions.

Fu Yang rose from his bed soundlessly. His body still ached from his intense work, every muscle tight and sore. He reached into a small pouch and scattered a fine blackish dust across his bed and his clothes — a special powder he had concocted himself. It carried a faint energy signature identical to his own, enough to fool any casual inspection into believing these were the impurities.

Once everything looked in order, Fu Yang moved to the wall beside the window. He lifted the wooden planks to reveal a narrow compartment, where a dew lotus plant was glowing.

Gathering his blades, he placed them inside the glowing compartment and put the plank back, completely concealing it.

This was his hidding spot for if anyone came to his room, but for months, no one had entered his room. He had made sure of that. And whenever anyone's presence approached, he always hid his things before they could be seen.

Once satisfied, Fu Yang sat cross-legged upon his bed, adopting the serene posture of a cultivator in deep meditation. To anyone looking in, it appeared as though he was cultivating silently. But in truth, he simply allowed his weary body to rest. The pain in his muscles throbbed like waves beneath his skin — the price of pushing his limits too far.

Outside, Master Wan stirred slightly, letting out a faint snore.

Fu Yang allowed himself a faint smile. Haah he's becoming more caring " he murmured.

---

While Fu Yang rested quietly in the academy dormitory, far away, the Tian household was once again alive with celebration. Laughter and music spilled from its brightly lit halls, wine cups clinking in endless toasts.

"Hahaha! From the day our clan was founded, good news has never ceased!, we are celebrating every time, The heavens truly favor us!"

"Drink, drink!"

Warm light danced across golden screens and silk drapes. Servants hurried about with trays of steaming food and fine wine. In a cozy room away from the crowd, two young women sat together by a brazier, the faint scent of jasmine tea between them.

Cin Yan lifted her cup with a smile. "Hehe, you seem distracted, Mo Rian. Are you worried about him?"

Mo Rian froze, nearly spilling her tea. "What? Why do you always bring him up? I already told you — why would I care about that beggar?" She looked away with a pout, her cheeks tinged pink.

Cin Yan chuckled softly, eyes glimmering with mischief. "Mmm, then prove it to me, Mo Rian."

Mo Rian's eyes widened. "P-Prove it? How?"

Cin Yan only smiled, setting her cup down gently. "You'll see."

The crackle of the fire filled the silence between them. Outside, the snow was starting to melt.

_______________

That night, Master wan still sat beside the door, his old frame stiff from hours of waiting. The faint light of a dying lantern flickered across his weary face. His hands were clasped together, his lips moving silently as he prayed.

"Come out… please, God, have mercy on him," he whispered under his breath. "Please, please… he has suffered the most."

The night was cold and still—until a sudden sound broke the silence.

Bam!

A deep, muffled thud came from inside the room. Master wan's eyes widened. His heart leapt to his throat. That sound—it was the sound of life, of awakening. Fu Yang had stirred.

Without hesitation, Master Shen rose and rushed to the door, knocking rapidly. "Fu Yang! Did you succeed? Haa—tell me, tell me!"

There was no immediate reply. The silence stretched for a heartbeat longer, until the latch turned. The door opened slowly, and a faint glow spilled out from within.

Fu Yang stood there, his face pale but calm, a small candle burning on the desk behind him.

Master wan's voice trembled. "Did you… succeed?"

Fu Yang bowed respectfully, his tone steady yet filled with emotion. "Yes, Master. This disciple has not let you down. I have succeeded. I have reached the intermediate stage."

For a moment, Master wan simply stared—then a long, weary sigh escaped his lips. Relief washed over him, his eyes softening with pride. "Good… good. You've done well. Rest for a few days, then come see me."

Fu Yang nodded silently. As master wan turned and left into the night, a faint smile curved Fu Yang's lips—satisfied, calm.

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