C1 Jee Yun

"Senior Sister, is this the residence of Su Xuerou, the most renowned beauty in Dirtcliff?"

Standing outside the Su Mansion, two young women in green dresses paused to take in the sight.

Both were strikingly attractive, with delicate features that could hardly fill a fist, and their well-formed figures were accentuated by the vibrant green of their dresses, lending them an air of stunning allure.

"Indeed, but our visit isn't to see her, rather her husband," Lau Mengyao corrected with a nod, her gaze tinged with curiosity.

She instinctively fingered the letter tucked in her embrace. The dean had entrusted it to her that very day, with instructions to deliver it to the Su Mansion. She had assumed it was meant for Su Xuerou, yet to her surprise, it was addressed to her husband.

"Her husband? The one they call trash, Jee Yun?" Xu Yuanyuan's eyes widened in astonishment as she regarded Lau Mengyao. "The same man who wed Su Xuerou five years ago?"

Jee Yun was a name known to all in Dirtcliff; his reputation was inescapable.

The marriage of Dirtcliff's most exquisite beauty to such a man had sent shockwaves through the region. Many a young suitor had been left in despair, their disdain for Jee Yun deepening upon learning he was nothing more than a weakling, utterly incapable in combat.

Su Xuerou was not just Dirtcliff's paramount beauty; she was also a young master of Astral Qi, hailed as a once-in-a-century prodigy.

While Lau Mengyao's curiosity was piqued by the mystery, she was even more intrigued by the dean's decision to send the letter to Jee Yun. Could it be that the dean had ties to him?

That seemed impossible.

After all, the dean was not only the head of Spincog Academy but also one of the six esteemed Martial Grandmasters of Dirtcliff. How could he possibly associate with a so-called 'trash'?

Despite her bewilderment, Lau Mengyao addressed Xu Yuanyuan, "Yes, that's the man. Come on, let's go meet Jee Yun. I'm eager to see for myself what sort of person he truly is!"

The pair rapped on the grand doors of Su Mansion, and soon after, an elderly man emerged.

"May I ask who you are?"

"We're students from Spincog Academy, sent by the dean to pay a visit to Su Mansion," Lau Mengyao said with a slight nod, stating their purpose.

"Ah, students from Spincog Academy!" The old man's face brightened with respect, but he quickly added with an apologetic tone, "Unfortunately, you've come at a bad time. Our young Miss Su Xuerou is out on business and hasn't yet returned."

"No matter, sir. Our visit isn't to see Miss Su Xuerou; we're here to speak with Jee Yun," Lau Mengyao replied with a reassuring smile.

The old man paused, a crease of concern briefly crossing his brow, but he chose not to inquire further. "Very well, please come with me."

Before long, the old man led them to a secluded courtyard within the mansion.

Stopping, he addressed them, "Make yourselves at home. This is Jee Yun's residence. I shall excuse myself now."

As the old man departed, Xu Yuanyuan cast a skeptical eye over the modest courtyard and muttered under her breath, "Everyone envies Jee Yun for marrying Dirtcliff's most beautiful woman, but it seems his living conditions leave much to be desired—so cramped and isolated."

Lau Mengyao shook her head, "Let's reserve judgment until we meet this Jee Yun. I'm quite curious to see what the man who won the heart of Dirtcliff's most sought-after beauty looks like."

Surely, a man who married such a beauty would be strikingly handsome.

Their anticipation turned to disappointment upon meeting Jee Yun, however.

As the door swung open, a man in a white robe stood before them. He wasn't unattractive, but neither was he the epitome of handsomeness—merely pleasant-looking with an air of composure about him.

Yet, oddly enough, his clothing was somewhat worn. Clean, yes, but they gave off an air of modesty.

"Do you need something?" Jee Yun inquired, looking at the two young women with a hint of confusion. After five years as a son-in-law at Su Mansion, this was the first time someone had come knocking at his door.

Though he had taken Su Xuerou as his wife, over the years, their relationship had been more like cordial acquaintances than spouses. Outwardly a married couple, Su Xuerou treated him with an icy detachment, even contempt, relegating Jee Yun to a status akin to a servant in the Su Mansion.

Yet, Jee Yun harbored no resentment. In fact, he found the situation to his advantage. The unexpected visit from the two young girls, however, did catch him off guard.

"Are you Jee Yun?" Lau Mengyao asked, her initial surprise giving way to a clear look of disappointment.

Xu Yuanyuan chimed in with a barb, "It appears the husband of Dirtcliff Mansion's most beautiful woman isn't all that impressive!"

"If Su Mansion has only one Jee Yun, then you're looking at him!" Jee Yun replied with an easy smile, unfazed by their comments.

Casting a disapproving glance at Xu Yuanyuan, Lau Mengyao offered Jee Yun an apologetic smile. "I'm Lau Mengyao, a student from Spincog Academy, and this is my junior, Xu Yuanyuan. We've been sent by the dean to find Young Master Jee."

Jee Yun's brow furrowed at the mention of Mo Shan. Though unsure of Mo Shan's reasons for sending them, he welcomed the pair into his modest home.

The interior was sparse—a bed, a desk, and neatly arranged books. What stood out was the long, rusted sword on the bed, seemingly untouched for ages, drawing the girls' attention.

While Lau Mengyao remained politely silent, curiosity got the better of Xu Yuanyuan. "Are you a martial artist as well? I've heard Su Xuerou has reached the Astral Qi Stage. Surely, your own strength isn't lacking? What level have you attained?"

"Yuanyuan!" Lau Mengyao's frown deepened. It was common knowledge that Jee Yun was considered powerless, and though Xu Yuanyuan's inquiry wasn't meant as mockery, it was indisputably tactless to ask so directly.

"Young Master Jee, please don't take it to heart. My junior sister is simply curious; she means no harm." Lau Mengyao shot Xu Yuanyuan a knowing glance and hastened to clarify.

Jee Yun dismissed the concern with a wave of his hand, giving Xu Yuanyuan a brief look before breaking the silence. "Your martial arts cultivation? It's been neglected for a decade. I'd say you're around the eighth or ninth level now."

Xu Yuanyuan pursed her lips skeptically. The eighth or ninth level?

In Dirtcliff, martial arts were highly revered, with practitioners classified into nine distinct realms, also referred to as the Nine Realms of Martial Arts. The first three realms were merely foundational. One had to reach the fourth to be recognized as a martial artist, the fifth to be considered a skilled master, the sixth denoted an expert, and the seventh, a grandmaster. The eighth realm signified a figure of grandmaster stature.

The ninth realm, however, was the stuff of legends. It was believed that reaching this pinnacle of martial arts allowed one to grasp its true essence, achieving a divine connection and transcending the ordinary.

Nowadays, Martial Saints were figures of myth.

Lau Mengyao couldn't help but roll her eyes at the conversation. "If Young Master Jee would rather not discuss it, let's drop the subject."

Jee Yun offered a nonchalant smile, remaining silent. Seeing as they didn't believe him, he felt no need to elaborate further and instead cut to the chase. "What does Mo Shan want with me?"

Lau Mengyao's brow creased. True, the dean's name was Mo Shan, but who in recent years had the audacity to address him so casually?

And Jee Yun's lack of respect was not lost on her, stirring a touch of discontent.

Yet, Lau Mengyao kept her composure, pulling a letter from within her robes and presenting it to Jee Yun. "The dean entrusted me to deliver this letter to you. Our task is complete, so we'll take our leave now."

Accepting the envelope without opening it, Jee Yun nodded. "Very well, if that's the case, I won't see you out."

Once they had departed, Jee Yun bowed his head, gazing intently at the envelope he held. A complex mix of emotions flickered across his face, which had been the picture of composure just moments before. In a soft murmur, he reflected, "In the blink of an eye, a decade has slipped by."