"Let the imperial edict wait a while… isn't that improper?" Fang Zetao hesitated as he looked at his daughter's calm disregard for the emperor's decree.
"It's fine," Fang Qingxue replied, her flawless expression unchanging. "I've no desire to be entangled with the affairs of the mortal world. I prefer tranquility over commotion. Let the household handle the messenger and the decree—I'll remain here in peace for a few days, observe the younger disciples, and guide those with potential. Father, you too should stop obsessing over power. Focus on your cultivation—you might yet break through to the Divine Ability Realm."
Fang Zetao nodded. "Originally, we planned a grand celebration to mark your appointment as a princess. But since you prefer quiet, we'll keep it simple. Also, your palace on Feather Immortal Mountain—do you need any attendants? I'll assign some loyal and capable ones to serve you."
"Very well," Fang Qingxue murmured, closing her eyes slightly.
Her thoughts soon drifted elsewhere. White Sea Zen hasn't shown himself in a month. Could it be that, despite his heavy injuries, he healed using the Nine Aperture Golden Pill and escaped?
The prodigy of the heavens, the true disciple of the Feather Transformation Sect—one of the Ten Great Immortal Gates—fell into deep contemplation. Above her head, faint threads of violet lightning appeared, swirling and condensing into shapes of cranes, dragons, and galloping horses. It was the unmistakable sign of immense spiritual power—proof that she stood at the pinnacle of the Divine Ability Realm.
Just a little more… and I'll break from the third level, the Primordial Gang Realm, into the fourth—the Yin-Yang Realm. When my inner energy harmonizes between Yin and Yang, it will gain true spirit. Only then can I reach the fifth level—the Heaven and Man Realm—where one's divine power merges with the world's veins, forming arrays of infinite might. In the sect, only a few elders have reached that level. If I had fully refined the Flood Dragon's Underworld Map, I might have already ascended past Heaven and Man, condensed the Divine Seed, and manifested my Divine Aspect… but alas, it slipped through my grasp.
As she examined the flow of energy within her body, Fang Qingxue's cultivation revealed its profound depth and perfection.
--
"Seven Stars Step!"
Under the glittering night sky, Fang Han stood by the riverbank, his muscles rippling as he moved with the rhythm of the heavens. In one swift motion, he darted forward seven steps—whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—and unleashed a powerful kick.
"Kui Star Kick!"
One rush, one kick, one explosion!
The force of his leg tore through the air with a thunderous crack.
Bang!
A tree as thick as a bowl snapped in half under his kick.
Crack after crack followed as he struck again and again—fourteen kicks in total—until the surrounding trees lay shattered, their trunks split clean through.
He finally stopped, breath steady, face calm. He drew a circle with his left hand, a square with his right—softness and hardness combined. His stance rooted firmly into the ground like an ancient pine gripping the rocks, immovable and unyielding.
"Left hand draws a circle, right hand a square—balance between softness and strength. I can't believe that in just three nights, I've mastered this technique and stepped into the Fourth Level of Hard and Soft Unity! The Nine Aperture Golden Pill truly gave me an unshakable foundation. Reaching the Fifth Level of Divine Power shouldn't be far now!"
A surge of heat pulsed from his heart, spreading through his veins. The pain in his legs faded instantly under the pill's lingering medicinal force.
After a month of relentless training, Fang Han's foundation had become solid as iron. In three days, he had perfected the Seven Stars Step and Kui Star Kick—two of the most lethal moves of the Seven Stars Fist.
Though the technique had few moves, each mirrored the constellations' pathways and the human body's hidden rhythms. The Seven Stars Step was a mysterious footwork technique; the Kui Star Kick a deadly finishing strike.
Fang Han had mastered them both and entered the fourth stage of body refinement—a level that took most of the Fang family's core disciples years of grueling practice to reach.
Feeling his strength grow daily, Fang Han returned home satisfied and soon fell asleep.
But at midnight, he was jolted awake by a commotion outside. His door shook under heavy knocking. He sprang up and opened it to find the horse yard's chief steward.
"Steward, what's going on? Why wake me in the middle of the night?"
"Hurry!" the steward barked. "The Second Miss is leaving at dawn. You're to saddle Thousand-Mile Snow and accompany her on the journey."
"Leaving? Where to?" Fang Han asked, startled.
"Don't ask so much! Servants obey orders, not question them. Unless you want the Second Miss's whip across your back?" The steward's tone was sharp as he strode away.
Fang Han dared not delay. Though he'd gained strength through fortune, he was still a mere servant. To enter the Feather Transformation Sect someday, he still needed the Fang family's influence.
The Ten Great Immortal Gates—legendary dwellings of gods and cultivators—filled him with awe and curiosity.
He quickly led Thousand-Mile Snow from the stables to the main courtyard.
The Fang estate's front square loomed vast and majestic, lined with statues of lions, tigers, qilin, and pixiu—guardians carved from stone, exuding silent power. Under their gaze, a man felt small and humbled.
The square teemed with servants and armored guards. Carriages packed with treasures stood ready, surrounded by disciplined warriors and attendants.
And then—they emerged. The central figures of the Fang family stepped out from the gates, flanked by retainers like stars around the moon.
Among them, Fang Han's eyes locked onto a figure in white—a woman of ethereal beauty. As she appeared, the world seemed to still. Light softened, the air shimmered, and it was as if heaven itself had descended upon the earth.
For that instant, everything else faded—there was only her.
Is she a fairy from the moon, or a dragon princess from the sea? Fang Han's heart trembled. He knew this was Fang Qingxue, the family's eldest daughter—the prodigy who had slain White Sea Zen, a master of the Divine Ability Realm.
He had imagined her as fierce and domineering, radiating killing intent. But in truth, she was serene as drifting clouds—her presence pure, untouched, transcendent.
So this is what a true cultivator feels like… Fang Han thought, remembering White Sea Zen's teachings, and quickly lowered his gaze.
Yet, as if sensing his attention, Fang Qingxue's clear eyes turned toward him. Just one glance—calm and distant—yet it pierced straight through him.
"Qingwei," she asked softly, "that servant holding Thousand-Mile Snow—what's his name?"
With a single look, she had noticed Fang Han.
Whether it was fortune or calamity—only time would tell.