“This...is the yang patriarch? The supposed masculinity symbol of our Dongli state?” Bereft of words, the audience watched in a stupor as Dongli’s number one sect master disgraced all the prestige he’d accumulated for centuries to hold on to his baby.

“Dad! Dad! Thousands of people are watching us! How can you do this to me?”

“I don’t care! From now on, I refuse to let you go!” Pushing against Guang Fanghu, Dong Ling attempted to shake her leg free from her father’s grasp—to no avail. The patriarch wouldn’t relent and maintained his grip on his daughter’s leg. Sandwiched by shame, grief, indignation and helplessness, Dong Ling stood still, not knowing how to cope with her father’s barefaced antics.

There was a saying in the western states that roughly translated to “Daddy’s time is undefeated.” This meant that whenever a loving father gave up all considerations for face, there was nothing his children could do to prevent him from getting his way. Though born in the strict, patriarchal and face-heavy Dongli, Guang Fanghu epitomized this saying. His ability to guilt trip his daughter into doing his bidding knew no match—making even the likes of Hanxing, Qingxin and Xinzi praise him from afar.

“Okay, okay. Dad, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry! Your daughter is unfilial. From now on, your daughter will keep you informed of every single event and take care of you more often. As a matter of fact, I will even tell you all that happened this past month in detail,” Dong Ling patted Guang Fanghu’s shoulders and said in a clear, apologetic tone.

“You promise?” Though slightly surprised by how easily his unfilial daughter complied, Guang Fanghu still jumped on the bait. His lips stretched in a broad, silly smile, and his wide, beady eyes sparkled like a six-year-old before competing lollipop vendors.

“Oh yes, definitely. I won’t miss a thing.” Dong Ling stressed the words with firm nods of her head. An odd sense of foreboding crept up Guang Fanghu’s back—making the mighty sect master shiver uncontrollably.

“Mhm...never mind. Daughters need extra privacy. I don’t want to know. Just be more sensible and aware of my...fragile heart...yeah. Good luck, bye.” Not giving Dong Ling an opportunity to put one in, Guang Fanghu turned heels and scurried off. By the time the sect master had returned to his seat, the vassal masters no longer looked at him the same. A cringe silence followed.

Most couldn’t take their eyes off the patriarch—reevaluating the specimen. Others glanced at Zi Yao, wondering if her husband’s complete loss of face would have ticked the fairy wrong. Guang Fanghu too glanced at her. Alas, the same cold and impassible eyes greeted them all—silencing debates before they sparked.

Distraught by the lack of reaction, Guang Fanghu lowered his head, sighing to no end.

“Alas! I am starved of love!” Indeed, he was. From the moment he could consider the opposite sex, Guang Fanghu had wanted to marry an ice beauty. There was just a thing about them that seduced him out of his wits. Was it the lack of smiles or deadening eyes? He couldn’t tell for sure. But ice beauties just had that thing, and of Dongli’s ice queens, no one could match the Violet Dawn Fairy, Zi Yao.

Imagine Guang Fanghu’s excitement when his father announced that the next number one of the Dong clan would marry her. From that day on, Guang Fanghu dedicated himself to being that number one. In pure talent, he wasn’t Zi Yao’s equal. But with psychopathic hard work and dedication, he managed to bridge the gap and win their generation’s Yin-Yang contest alongside her.

What should have been the finest achievement of his life marked the beginning of a soulless relationship that gnawed at his heart. It wouldn’t be long before Guang Fanghu realized that looks and a lifetime insurance policy on paternity tests aside, ice beauties didn’t have much to offer.

Dual cultivation compatibility wise, Guang Fanghu and Zi Yao became a legendary pair. But that’s where all romantic aspects ended. Schemes and pushing ambitions became their sole activities as a couple. Was it too much to ask for dinner by the sunset or a walk under the full moon?

Perhaps if Zi Yao didn’t starve him of love for so long, Guang Fanghu wouldn’t be that eccentric of a father. Perhaps it was just his nature—we will never know. And as the patriarch’s thoughts trailed off, a subordinate’s mental message cut in, “Sect master, they’re dead! All 12, dead! The Liberation Temple didn’t hesitate to execute our Law Enforcement disciples!”

The words forced Guang Fanghu out of his reverie. His eyes shrank, and for the barely noticeable split of a second, his cultivation base exploded. That split was more than enough for the vassal masters’ hearts to skip several beats. Terror-struck, they struggled to catch their breaths and mustered all the discipline in their muscle memory to not glance Guang Fanghu’s way.

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“Don’t you know that the Liberation Temple has two inners and one elite disciple? What rubbish disciples did you send?” At first, Guang Fanghu didn’t even think of pinning this one on Xinzi’s head—believing instead that his subordinate only sent a bunch of low-level Foundation Builders. “Ss-sect master, you can’t say that. I sent nine peak-stage Foundation Building and three early-stage Pulse Condensation men. How was that not enough?” The subordinate wanted to cry but couldn’t find the tears.

Not only had inner disciples died in vain, but even three elite disciples lost their heads at the Liberation Temple’s gates. With all things said and done, he would be the one having to clean up this mess and face the wrath of their relatives. How could Guang Fanghu shift more blame on him when he was the one that provided outdated information?

“Wait, what? They killed elite disciples?” Guang Fanghu couldn’t believe it. Elite disciples represented the investments of various Dongli powers. Aristocratic clans such as the Rong, the royal Shui clan and even the Dong and Zi, all had chess pieces and future leaders stationed in the elite disciples’ ranks. When some of the most brazen sect elders didn’t dare to kill those disciples arbitrarily, how could the little dolls in Xinzi’s temple commit the crime—to say nothing that they didn’t have the strength.

“Could it be…no, so fast? How does that make sense?” A thought crossed Guang Fanghu’s mind, but he instantly refuted it. If proven guilty, only Xinzi could get away with murdering elite disciples. But no matter how impudent the monk looked, he’d never strayed from certain limits and showed no bloodlust. More importantly, how could he get strong enough to crush that lineup after one trivial month? Another face flashed in Guang Fanghu’s mind, and his eyes went bloodshot.

“Xia Hu...it must be Xia Hu!” Indeed, only Xia Hu boasted the abnormal cultivation and battle-power growth-pace fit for this result. Only Xia Hu showed such an extreme disrespect for authority that he dared to maim or outright kill his seniors. Only Xia Hu would come to Xinzi’s aid without a care for whom he faced and feed his daughter rubbish that’d soon ruin her innocence!

Xia Hu, Xia Hu, Xia Hu! It was always him!

Never in Guang Fanghu’s life had an insect frustrated him so. Picturing that good-for-nothing waste getting pulled apart by sprinting horses could no longer sate the hatred in his heart!

“Suishan, change of plans. I want him dead!” The sect master’s eyes sought his nephew, who crossed the steps up the yang platform with a long procession of two dozen disciples. Overshadowed by Dong Ling and Guang Fanghu’s reunion, Rong Suishan’s arrival didn’t draw much attention. In better times, Rong Suishan would resent the lack of attention he’d received from the crowd. But hounded by the green pill in his storage ring, the prime disciple couldn’t care less.

“Sect master that...isn’t legal. Under the eyes of thousands, including the great elders, how can I get away with murder? Please spare me!” Careful to not betray the mental exchange, Rong Suishan lowered his eyes—sweating profusely. Initially, Guang Fanghu wanted him to destroy Xia Hu’s cultivation. That was bad enough, but background and potential could still save him from extreme punishment. Once he crossed the murder line, however, no one could save him!

“What are you getting flustered for? With me here, who dares to cause strife?!” Teeming with confidence, Guang Fanghu gave zero consideration to his nephew’s fears. Rong Suishan wanted to cry...and for once the tears flowed out. Why was this absurd bastard of an unreliable uncle trying so hard to ruin his life?! Nevertheless, he had no choice but to comply.

Rong Suishan took position on the yang platform, and time flew by. Whenever the disciples stepped on their platform, the registration stele flashed—crossing their name from the list. The female stele no longer had names to cross. The male stele missed two—two that kept the audience on their toes.

“Why isn’t he here yet?” Chun Xu wondered. With his whereabouts and condition unknown, she didn’t expect Xia Hu to join the fun. Xinzi was another story and should have made his entrance already.

The elders and bamboo-hat-wearing monks spread their Spiritual Senses—watching out for any potential move.

Green squalls of wind blew by the mountain peak, causing the audience, elders and masters to raise their eyes at the sky.

A lone figure trod the green winds. Arms crossed behind its back, the figure wore an oversized green robe, belt, and a tall glossy hat that made even its steel mask look irrelevant. Stepping forward, the figure leaped across the sky, leaving arcs of emerald strands of qi on its way down to the yang stage—it landed without a sound.

Xia Hu made his entrance, and all eyes were on him.