C12 Monkey Qin Guang

Nangong Fan was blissfully unaware of the events unfolding within the Myriad Treasure Tower after his departure.

As he strolled down the shaded path with a spring in his step, he was oblivious to the fact that in the space between his eyebrows—his sea of consciousness—there were happenings deeply connected to him, yet beyond his current perception.

Emerging from his trance-like state, the blood-colored phantom ceased its dance. Its lifeless eyes suddenly sparkled with vitality, and a savage, bloodthirsty aura emanated from its form.

He surveyed the enclosed space with curiosity, his gaze catching glimpses of countless swirling fragments of memory.

"Hmm, this kid's sea of consciousness is peculiar. It's different from the sensation I got from that little runt a decade ago, yet it's unmistakably the same person," he mused, a contemplative look in his eyes. "This will be my abode in the future, after all. Best to thoroughly investigate and avoid any unpleasant surprises."

The blood-colored light radiated from his ethereal figure, swiftly enveloping the entire sea of consciousness.

With a soft exclamation, he turned his attention to the core of the sea of consciousness, where a blue, ghostly figure sat cross-legged. It was ensnared by spirals of white, transparent threads exuding an otherworldly essence, binding it so tightly that it could not move an inch.

"Switching the prince for a decoy? Such an ingenious tactic, surpassing even my own. Well, I am not a divine cultivator," he acknowledged with a click of his tongue, his face twisting into an odd expression. "No, more accurately, it's the decoy being switched for the prince. Whoever orchestrated this must possess strength that could rival my own. Breaking these fishline-like threads should reveal some secrets."

As he spoke, the crimson glow coalesced into a formidable, blood-red dragon, its presence filling the sea of consciousness.

The dragon, with its malevolent gaze, opened its maw wide, and a dragon's roar echoed throughout the space, sending numerous blood-red strands, sharp with intent, to entwine with the threads binding the blue figure.

Meanwhile, on the banks of the Dragonstone River, a figure with a bent back and a bamboo hat held a fishing rod weakly in his hands. Lifting his head, his snow-white hair and wrinkled face came into view. He looked in the direction of the sea of consciousness, the ten-mile distance seemingly insignificant to him. A slight smirk, tinged with deep scorn and a hint of mockery, played upon his lips.

His pupils were dark and gleaming, initially giving the impression of an ordinary elder seasoned by life's trials, yet with a purity akin to that of an innocent child. Upon a second look, however, he seemed to gaze down into an unfathomable pool, drawing one into depths that felt like countless cycles of reincarnation, from which escape seemed impossible.

The fishing hook was bare, the rod unusually long, and the line hung straight down into the heart of the Yangtze River. The water's surface was undisturbed, the fishing line's path invisible, as if it pierced the river to enter another realm.

Passersby occasionally moved nearby, yet it appeared no one noticed the odd old man fishing alone in the river. Some mischievous children even walked right through him as if he weren't there.

Within Nangong Fan's consciousness, the threads ensnaring his spirit trembled in response to the tremor of the old man's hand on the fishing rod by the riverbank. A Tai Chi diagram materialized, radiating a soft, milky-white glow that dispersed the blood-red filaments.

The blood-red figure's face contorted, and his sharp voice echoed in his mind, "Damn it, how is this possible? Curiosity killed the cat, and the ancients did not deceive me."

No sooner had he spoken than the milky-white light halted before him. A voice, ancient and resonant, emerged from the Tai Chi diagram, as if descending from the heavens, "Xue Yaozi?"

The Green Family resided in Dragonstone, atop the mountain ranges within the city, not far from the Black Family's ancestral home.

The Qing Family was renowned for their commerce, with shops spanning the globe and dotted throughout human territories. Yet the direct descendants of the Qing Family, bearing the Qing name, were exceedingly rare. Most shopkeepers were not of the Qing lineage, including those in Dragonstone and Forestvale.

Despite this, the Qing Family's prestige outshone the other families in Dragonstone, with the martial arts community showing a marked preference for dealings with the Qing over others.

Wealthy enough to rival nations, the Qing Family's direct descendants remained aloof from the rivalries that entangled the other prominent families of Dragonstone.

The Green Family's ancestral home, if one could call it that, was a far cry from the Black Family's sprawling estate, which resembled a small village. It was merely a modest dwelling, comparable only to the residence allotted to the Black Family members when they came of age, with the exception that the courtyard was significantly larger.

The Green Family's courtyard, though not expansive, was brimming with rare greenery. These plants, while uncommon, were mundane with no hint of spiritual essence. They resembled the prized collections of affluent households, offering beauty for admiration rather than practical utility. Nevertheless, these plants were undeniably exquisite, exuding a soothing fragrance that touched the soul.

An elderly man, adorned in a golden robe embroidered with a green dragon, lay reclined in the courtyard, eyes closed, humming a tune. His fingers, smooth as jade, danced through the air, keeping a rhythmic beat as he relaxed on his lounging chair.

Abruptly, the old man's eyes snapped open, revealing a purity reminiscent of a newborn's gaze. He tilted his head towards the river, a flicker of green sparking in his eyes, and whispered to himself, barely audible, "A Daoist presence?"

With a dismissive snort, he shut his eyes once more, murmuring, "Best not to trouble me. I'm disinclined to exert myself."

...

Upon entering the cluster of wooden houses, Nangong Fan was immediately assaulted by the jarring sounds of a scuffle emanating from a secluded alleyway.

"Stupid monkey, didn't get enough of a beating before? Think you can strut around because that good-for-nothing young master has your back?"

At the alley's end, several young men clad in black were assaulting a frail figure huddled on the ground. Despite lacking spiritual energy, their well-trained bodies possessed considerable brute strength.

"That worthless young master has been in hiding for over ten days. Was it you, you imbecile, who tipped him off? He's stirred up serious trouble, and the Law Enforcement Hall is on the verge of revoking his rightful status. Soon, I'll be the esteemed young master of the Black Family."

"Still haven't cleaned the blood from my shoes, have you? Your pathetic young master can't even save himself, let alone you. But if you amuse me, perhaps I'll spare you. A master is only as good as his servant," jeered the youth with short black hair, standing tall among his peers as he pressed his foot down on the cowering man. As his foot twisted, a surge of pain and rage flickered in the eyes of the thin man below. Yet, he remained still, hardened by two years of abuse. Like a solitary wolf, he tended to his own wounds, unwilling to burden his master, who already suffered from an inability to cultivate. There was no need to provoke further conflict; he would be the foundation for his young master's future.

Nangong Fan felt a shiver in his heart as a surge of murderous intent erupted within him. "Little Boy."

Fury flickered in his eyes as he strode swiftly toward the alleyway. Crouching at the entrance, he resembled a bear poised to leap and unleash havoc.

Yet, the unfolding scene deep within the alleyway filled Nangong Fan's eyes with boundless astonishment.

"You may insult me, but those who insult the young master will die!" Little Boy's pupils blazed red, radiating a blood-red light, as violence and a deadly aura emerged, much like the eyes of a wild beast, cold and lethal.

He faintly recalled a rainy night, a tender woman in a green dress leaning against a proud, white-robed young man. The young man held the woman's waist with one hand and an umbrella with the other.

They seemed like figures from a painting, stepping out of a dream into reality, sheltering his small frame with their modest umbrella. The white-robed man stood drenched in the rain, a proud yet soft smile in his eyes.

The woman extended her arms and lifted him, her voice gentle and melodious, "Such an adorable little fellow. Let's take him home to be a companion for Zhe'er."

"Alright. That way, Zhe'er won't be lonely anymore." The man's voice was gentle, his haughty gaze softening only when he looked at the woman.

This was the most beautiful picture in the world, the sole source of warmth in his heart.

From then on, the couple treated him as their own child and named him Qin Guang, giving him the woman's surname. The once-shunned harbinger of misfortune now had a name of his own.

The young master treated him like a true brother, often putting the choice cuts of meat into his bowl despite his own preference for the less favored vegetables. He would also let him play with the toys first. And if anyone dared to bully him, he would valiantly fight back with his tiny fists.

Why would anyone want to insult such a kind young master?

Rage blazed in his eyes, fierce as fireballs.

"You think you can take us down, you wretched monkey?" The black-clad youths taunted, oblivious to the thin young man's transformation, their blows raining down with even more gusto.

"Why does my hand feel pain when I strike him?"

"You're just wasting your strength in bed, aren't you?"

They jeered and chuckled with delight.

"Argh!" A furious roar erupted from the slender young man's mouth, as the assailants were repelled by the golden light radiating from Qin Guang's body.

They had no desire to back down, but the domineering golden light was beyond their capacity to withstand.

Qin Guang rolled on the ground and sprang to his feet.

His black hair transformed into a golden hue. His entire body, save for his flushed face, was covered in golden fur. Already gaunt, his frame appeared even more emaciated, his sharp features drawn in, yet his eyes shone with a fierce intensity. His golden pupils danced wildly like flames, as if intent on incinerating everything before him.

His fiery gaze was as piercing as any blade.

Golden fur also adorned Qin Guang's exposed legs. With an instinctive flick of his right leg, a wooden stick lying on the ground soared into the air, which he grasped with his furry right hand.

Holding the staff, even a mundane object seemed to endow him with a soaring presence, compelling others to overlook his appearance and perceive him as a deity stepping forth from the void, majestic and formidable.

At this moment, if Nangong Fan were to claim that Qin Guang could puncture the heavens with his staff, it would hardly be surprising.

Qin Guang's pupils brimmed with a savage ferocity uncharacteristic of any human. He surveyed the five individuals struggling to rise from the ground. With a thunderous bellow that shook the heavens and the earth, he unleashed a barrage of heavy blows with the staff, hurtling towards the five with a piercing whistling sound.