“Oh? So, Miss Lin, do you want me to win the championship or not?” Tang Yan asked with a playful smile.

“Of course I want you to win!” Lin Dongxue replied.

“I’m not short on cash. I’ll pass on the bet,” Tang Yan declined.

“Then what do you want?” Lin Dongxue asked, her eyes widening.

Tang Yan wasn’t eager to wager with Lin Dongxue. Winning would be fine, but if he failed to take first place, he’d be stuck dragging her along as a burden for half a month of training—a thought that gave him a headache. With a sly glint in his eye, he grinned. “If I win, let’s make it the same stakes as our last bet.”

At his words, Lin Dongxue’s mind flashed back to their wager on Cangyun Mountain—a race to see who was faster. She’d lost her first kiss in that deal!

Why would this guy bring up something so awkward?

Looking at the young man before her, his handsome face carried a smile that radiated calm and reassurance. Almost instinctively, Lin Dongxue found herself nodding. “Alright, it’s a deal!”

“What did you two bet on before?” Lin Xiao, catching their exchange, asked with curiosity.

“Hmph, not telling you!” Lin Dongxue huffed, too embarrassed to answer. Tang Yan didn’t dare spill the truth either.

Lin Xiao didn’t press further. Turning to Tang Yan, he said, “Your strength is remarkable—few at your rank could stand against you. But the Eastern Domain Competition will throw all sorts of tricky opponents your way. Stay sharp.”

“I will. Thanks for the heads-up, City Lord,” Tang Yan replied.

“Good. Rest well, then. Meet me in my courtyard at dawn tomorrow,” Lin Xiao instructed.

After Lin Xiao and Lin Dongxue left, Tang Yan closed the courtyard gate and returned to his room. Sitting on the bed, he pulled a pill from his pouch, swallowed it, and began to recover his energy.

His sparring match with Lin Xiao had ended in victory, but Lin Xiao was an Earth Stage expert. The experience had been invaluable, and Tang Yan needed time to process the fight and pinpoint areas to improve.

“Brilliant, absolutely brilliant!” In the neighboring courtyard, Lin Xiao paced back and forth, muttering praise to himself.

This went on for nearly half an hour. Lin Dongxue, watching her father border on obsession, furrowed her brow. “Dad, seriously? It’s just a loss. Tang Yan’s a freak—losing to him isn’t a big deal.”

“At my level, winning or losing doesn’t weigh as heavily anymore. But that kid’s moves—every time I run through them in my head, I’m blown away. Every strike was perfectly measured, flawlessly placed. One move flowed into the next, stacking endlessly. What kind of master could train a disciple like that?” Lin Xiao marveled, sinking back into recollections of the duel.

“I’m heading off to cultivate,” Lin Dongxue said with a resigned glance at her father. Her eyes flicked toward Tang Yan’s courtyard, a hint of shyness passing through them.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

*Tang Yan, if you’ve got what it takes, win the championship. I’ll kiss you again, Miss Lin!*

“Pfft! Lin Dongxue, what are you thinking?” She scolded herself, hurrying to her room. Luckily, Lin Xiao was too engrossed in his thoughts to notice her flushed cheeks, glowing like the vibrant clouds at dusk.

An hour later, Tang Yan snapped out of his reflection.

Glancing at the sky, he saw it wasn’t yet noon. He slid off the bed, stretched his limbs, and pushed open the courtyard gate to step outside.

After days of intense training, he decided to take it easy today—striking a balance between effort and rest.

Leaving Wanfang Tower, Tang Yan wandered the streets.

Tomorrow was the Eastern Domain Competition, a grand event that had drawn the entire region’s focus to Fang City. People from nearby cities had flocked here, eager to catch a glimpse of the spectacle.

As crowds swelled, Fang City’s inns were nearly booked solid. The streets teemed with visitors, bustling with energy—far livelier than Cloud City by several degrees.

Strolling along, Tang Yan picked up snippets of chatter. Most conversations circled around tomorrow’s competition. Even vendors selling candied hawthorns or clothes couldn’t resist trading a few words about it. Not joining in seemed to mark you as out of step.

Fang City, Qing City, and Song City dominated the discussions.

The Four Young Masters of the Eastern Domain were a favorite topic too.

Of course, Cloud City—the perennial underdog—cropped up as well, usually as a punchline after praising the others.

Though Tang Yan had a steady temperament, the constant jabs at Cloud City buzzing through the streets started to grate on him.

Turning on his heel, he headed south.

Shouyue Lake stretched across a thousand acres, its scenery stunning. Even in winter, seasonal flowers bloomed vibrantly.

Gazing at the picturesque view, Tang Yan felt a wave of calm wash over him.

After a short walk along the shore, he bought a jug of fine wine and found a quiet pavilion. Settling onto a stone bench, he leaned against a pillar, sipping casually. His movements were relaxed and fluid, exuding an effortless charm.

Two others already occupied the pavilion—an elderly man and a youth, likely grandfather and grandson.

Their clothes looked plain, but Tang Yan’s sharp eye caught the quality: fine silk, warm and rare. They clearly came from a well-off background.

The old man carried a reserved aura. Though he sat in silence, his presence demanded respect. Yet a subtle trace of worry creased his face.

Tang Yan gave them a quick glance before losing interest, returning to his wine with carefree ease.

The old man, however, shot Tang Yan a look of surprise, a flicker of intrigue stirring within him. He could tell Tang Yan’s relaxed demeanor wasn’t an act. What kind of mindset allowed someone to shrug off the world so naturally?

After a few more sips, Tang Yan noticed the old man’s gaze lingering on him. He turned and met his eyes for a moment.

That brief look changed everything. Tang Yan’s pupils contracted, his focus snapping to the youth beside the old man.

Uncertain, he frowned and studied the boy more closely.

After a long pause, Tang Yan turned away, his heart quietly reeling.

If he wasn’t mistaken, that youth possessed the Ice Marrow Physique!

Without a proper cultivation method, those with this constitution would feel as if they’d plunged into icy depths every three months—an unbearable chill radiating from within.

No external heat could ease it; the cold gnawed at their bones. Enduring such torment year after year, few lived past twenty-five.

But with the right cultivation method, everything changed. They’d transform into a prodigy, their progress skyrocketing.

Add rare elixirs or resources, and their cultivation would outstrip others by leaps, their potential boundless.

Yet finding a method suited to the Ice Marrow Physique was a daunting task. Special constitutions were rare. For those born into poverty, death was often their only fate—unseen by the world.

Even the well-off, able to hire top experts to craft tailored techniques, faced odds of success slimmer than one in ten.

In his past life, however, Tang Yan had encountered someone with this physique.

That person had sought his alchemy expertise. To craft a pill tailored to their cultivation, Tang Yan had studied their constitution and methods in depth, eventually producing the “Ice Chill Pill.”

Still, Tang Yan wasn’t one to meddle without cause. He had a cultivation method for the Ice Marrow Physique, but what if they already had one? Offering it unprompted might just make him look like a fool.