Rong Yu followed the path southwest, relying on the memories of his predecessor.
The landscape around him was dotted with spiritual fields, lush with vibrant plants swaying gently in the breeze. Monks moved among the fields, chanting incantations and weaving hand seals. Misty spiritual rain fell from their hands, nourishing the plants and enveloping the area in a serene, ethereal glow.
Rong Yu paused to admire the sight, his excitement reignited at the thought of living in this magical world of cultivation.
Before long, he arrived at his aunt Rong Muchun’s home, a sprawling courtyard atop a small hill. It was clearly the most luxurious residence in the area, reflecting her position as the leader of their branch.
He knocked on the large wooden door but received no response. Frowning, he wondered if they were deliberately ignoring him.
Knocking again, this time more firmly, the door creaked open to reveal a tall, dignified middle-aged man dressed in fine robes. His aura of authority and the oppressive spiritual pressure of a late-stage Qi Refinement cultivator made Rong Yu instinctively tense.
The man, Meng Jinliang, was Rong Yu’s uncle by marriage. Despite being a son-in-law, his power ensured he held considerable influence in the family.
Meng Jinliang’s expression betrayed no surprise—he had likely sensed Rong Yu’s arrival with his spiritual awareness. A flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes before he spoke with a smile.
“Xiao Yu, what brings you here?”
Rong Yu was taken aback. His predecessor had always faced cold indifference or disdain from this man. This sudden warmth seemed out of character.
“I came to discuss some matters with you and Aunt Muchun,” Rong Yu replied cautiously.
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Meng Jinliang raised a hand to cut him off. “No need to explain. It’s good you’re here. We were about to send for you. Come in.”
This unexpected response deepened Rong Yu’s confusion. Was he missing some crucial piece of information?
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Following Meng Jinliang into the house, Rong Yu found himself in a spacious hall filled with people. To his surprise, it wasn’t just his aunt’s family—his eldest uncle Ning Zhengqian and his fourth uncle Ning Baiquan were also present with their families.
Aunt Rong Muchun, elegantly dressed in a water-green robe, sat in the place of honor beside Meng Jinliang. Her son, Rong Furong, sat nearby, his expression smug.
Ning Zhengqian and his wife Guo Ru looked tense, while Ning Baiquan remained silent, his face unreadable. Scattered among the group were older cultivators, all from the early to mid-stages of Qi Refinement.
Rong Yu’s attention was drawn to two unfamiliar figures—a shrewd-looking elderly man in a black robe and a teenage girl in a yellow dress. The girl’s delicate features and jade-like complexion marked her as a budding beauty, though her unstable breathing indicated she had only recently begun cultivating.
As Rong Yu entered, all eyes turned to him. Ning Zhengqian’s family looked wary, while Rong Muchun and Meng Jinliang exchanged knowing glances.
Rong Muchun broke the silence with a warm smile. “Xiao Yu, it’s fortunate you’ve come. As a member of our branch, your presence is important for this discussion.”
Her uncharacteristic politeness only fueled Rong Yu’s suspicion. In the past, this woman had treated him with contempt, avoiding him like a plague. Now, her demeanor reeked of ulterior motives.
Before she could continue, Rong Yu interrupted. “Aunt, since everyone is gathered here, I’d like to address an important matter first.”
Rong Muchun’s smile stiffened slightly, a glimmer of annoyance flashing in her eyes.
Without hesitation, Rong Yu fixed her with a steady gaze. “Aunt, when will you return the deed to the shop on Jinchang Island that my father left me? I’m in need of spirit stones and would like to sell it.”
The hall fell into an uneasy silence.
Ning Zhengqian and Ning Baiquan exchanged glances, while Rong Muchun and Meng Jinliang’s expressions darkened. Though they had clearly anticipated this confrontation, Rong Yu’s directness seemed to catch them off guard.
Meng Jinliang’s initial warmth faded, replaced by a cold, calculating look. Rong Muchun, however, maintained her composed façade, though the corners of her mouth twitched in irritation.
The tension in the room was palpable as Rong Yu stood his ground, waiting for their response!