C8 Transformed

At five in the morning, the sun was already high in the sky. Yang Xuan rose early, neatly folding his bedding and methodically arranging the books that lay scattered on the floor. His room's stark simplicity meant there wasn't much to tidy up.

Once he had put his room in order, Yang Xuan stepped out into the courtyard, his eyes briefly scanning its corners. He fetched several bundles of firewood from one corner and began to chop. As always, upon waking, he focused on two essential tasks: reading and cooking.

He had purposefully pushed aside the events of the previous night from his mind.

The rhythmic sound of chopping wood echoed through the courtyard. After a few strikes, Yang Xuan abruptly halted.

Staring at his muscular arm, he was taken aback. His skin, already quite fair, now seemed even paler, and his muscles brimmed with newfound strength. He had only exerted half his usual effort, yet he had managed to notch the damp wood.

A flicker of surprise crossed Yang Xuan's mind.

To make sure he wasn't seeing things, he promptly set another log on the chopping block and gripped the axe firmly. The blade's sharp edge glinted with a cold light as it caught the sun. He swung with force, and the wood split cleanly down the middle, the axe's momentum carrying it deep into the stump.

Yang Xuan was astounded. He had been splitting wood since he was five or six years old, a chore spanning over a decade. But today, the task felt unusually effortless. His strength seemed amplified, and he sensed he could chop all day without tiring. He positioned a second log on the stump, axe in hand. This time, he used just a third of his normal strength, and yet the wood cleaved apart once more.

Yang Xuan stood there, dumbfounded.

It took him a while to piece together a theory.

Could it be the effect of that pearl?

Yesterday, when the bead entered his body, Yang Xuan immediately sensed the extreme, terrifying energy it contained. Initially, the energy rampaged uncontrollably within him, inflicting severe injuries. However, as he teetered on the brink of death, a cryptic incantation echoed in his mind. Desperate, he followed the chant, and miraculously, his agony subsided.

Practicing the incantation led to a wondrous healing of his wounds. It was no surprise then that upon waking this morning, he felt an extraordinary vitality and mental clarity. It was as if he possessed boundless strength, all thanks to that pearl.

Could this mark the beginning of his journey as a cultivator?

The concept of an 'Immortal Cultivator' was not alien to Yang Xuan; he had aspired to become one since he was sensible. He knew that cultivation was the key to gaining strength and the freedom to pursue his desires. Yet, within the Yang family, he was less regarded than even a lowly servant, with no opportunity to learn the ways of cultivation.

His thoughts drifted to a conversation a few days prior when his aunt had inquired whether he wished to leave the Yang family and if he sought the truth behind his parents' demise. He had replied with a disinterested no to both questions. But how could he truly be indifferent? Even if he had revealed his true feelings, there was no guarantee his aunt would have divulged the truth. He vividly recalled a similar inquiry to his Eldest Uncle in his youth, and the intense grip and piercing gaze that followed before being abruptly released. The memory of the bruising grip and the fear it instilled lingered for years.

These experiences had taught him to remain silent about his parents. Yet, silence did not equate to forgetfulness.

In his quiet moments, he often pondered these matters. He yearned to know the truth of his parents' fate, to escape the Yang family that had been his gilded cage for sixteen years. Now, with the prospect of becoming an Immortal Cultivator before him, he was determined to grasp this chance to grow stronger and unravel the mysteries that haunted him. He refused to live in ignorance any longer.

Lost in thought, Yang Xuan was startled by a knock that broke the silence of the courtyard.

The knocks were measured, neither too light nor too forceful, unhurried in their pace. His aunt had just visited the day before, so why would she return so soon? Was it because of last night's incident?

Shaking off his reverie, Yang Xuan rolled up his sleeves, straightened his attire, and opened the door.

Sure enough, it was Yang Qianxue.

As was his custom, he greeted her with due respect and welcomed her inside.

Upon entering the courtyard, Yang Qianxue noticed the firewood strewn about. "Haven't you had your meal yet?" she inquired.

"Not yet. Would you care to join me? I was about to make some noodles," Yang Xuan responded promptly.

"There's no need to go to any trouble on my account."

Her gaze fell upon the axe marks on the chopping block and the knife resting atop it. With a slight arch of her eyebrows, she advised, "Stay put for the next few days and avoid going out. The Immortal Cultivation Hall won't rest until the treasures stolen from the City Lord's Mansion are recovered. The thief is still at large, and you must remain vigilant at all times."

Yang Xuan looked at her, hesitating to speak.

With a reassuring smile, Yang Qianxue added, "Be frugal with the bag of silver I brought you yesterday. Keep it hidden and be wary of drawing unwanted attention."

Without waiting for a reply, she turned and left the courtyard.

Stepping out, Yang Qianxue's brow furrowed with concern. She had learned that the Immortal Cultivation Hall's agents had searched Yang Xuan's home the previous day. Still worried for him, she made her way to his courtyard, only to discover Yang Xuan seated cross-legged on the ground, his body smeared with blood. Behind him, a figure in black was poised to strike Yang Xuan's head with a hand charged with Spiritual Force. In a flash of alarm, she summoned all her Spiritual Force and struck at the assailant's hand.

Sensing the imminent threat, the thief fled without a backward glance. Yang Qianxue rushed to Yang Xuan's side and saw that despite the blood, his breath was steady and strong, with Spirit Aura swirling around him, forming a vortex—a sight only witnessed during a cultivator's practice.

At that moment, she was utterly astonished. How had Yang Xuan acquired the techniques of immortal cultivation? The hand seals he was forming were certainly not those taught by the Yang family. They were incredibly intricate, so much so that even she struggled to comprehend them. Moreover, the purity of the Spirit Aura that enveloped him was extraordinary, far surpassing that of any ordinary Spirit Aura.

Yang Qianxue had a suspicion forming in her heart as she observed this...

Everyone has their secrets, and she couldn't help but feel that this boy had not had an easy life.

Her eldest uncle forbade Yang Xuan from cultivating, wishing for him to live out his days as a mere mortal. But how could she stand by and allow it? The question lingered in her mind: What if Yang Xuan possessed a rare talent like his father's? To deny him would be a grave injustice.

Looking into Yang Xuan's youthful face, Yang Qianxue was tempted to question him about his clandestine practice, yet ultimately, she chose to walk away.

If the heavens themselves could not prevent Yang Xuan from pursuing the path of cultivation, then she, as his aunt, had no right to either.

She would act as though she had never been there the previous night.

She would act as though she knew nothing...