C6 Black Mansion

Dragonstone was an immense city, with its mountains and mansions standing in rows, home to the most prominent families in the region.

The Black Family held an esteemed position within Dragonstone. Nestled on the mountainside, they owned a sprawling estate that could easily be mistaken for a village.

Despite the scarcity of direct heirs, the Black Family was far from small in number. For a millennium, the Black Family had been a pillar of support for countless individuals who depended on them for their livelihood.

Nangong Fan stood before a door that exuded a sense of simplicity and luxury. The door was open, revealing the words "Black Mansion" majestically carved into the lintel from exquisite nanmu wood. The surrounding area was modest, enclosed by a simple black railing. The seemingly unguarded railing occasionally emitted flashes of black light, indicating that entry was not as straightforward as it appeared.

Nangong Fan glanced down at the ring on his right index finger. The ring was jet black, set with a dark crystal, and encircled by golden patterns that resembled a winding dragon.

This ring served as both proof of identity within the Black Family and a rare spatial ring coveted by many for its ability to hold objects within its diminutive space. Only those bearing a ring issued by the Black Family could safely pass through the grand doors into the Black Mansion. The ring with golden patterns that Nangong Fan held was a high-status item even among the Black Family, granting him access through the fence and into the Ten Thousand Treasure Tower. With the exception of a few restricted areas, the Black Mansion was virtually open to him.

Stepping onto the estate, a path lined with simple yet elegant flora stretched out for ten meters, leading to a stately mansion that served as the guest hall. Here, visitors were traditionally received. It was only after crossing this threshold that one truly entered the Black Mansion.

Nangong Fan strode effortlessly across the red carpet, passing tables and chairs arranged with precision and topped with pristine glassware. The guest hall was empty.

But Nangong Fan was well aware that, come rain or shine, day or night, four formidable guardians lay hidden among the flowers and plants in front of the guest hall.

Everywhere else was shrouded in a protective formation; this was the sole breach. Despite the door being firmly shut, the defenses remained tight.

Before he even passed the massive screen that obstructed the path in the guest hall, he could hear the clamor from beyond it.

Behind the guest hall lay a spacious clearing. Here, the Black Mansion's younger generation would typically spar and hone their martial skills under the tutelage of seasoned masters.

In addition to imparting knowledge of fist and sword techniques, these mentors pushed the young aspirants, who had not yet harnessed spiritual energy, to exert every ounce of their physical strength in practical training, truly conditioning every part of their bodies.

It wasn't that physical cultivation became irrelevant after spiritual development. Many who met the breakthrough criteria still struggled to advance, often due to insufficient physical conditioning.

For some elders, a final desperate attempt to progress resulted in failure, a state referred to as a deficiency of essence.

Nangong Fan strolled out of the guest hall's rear exit to find over a hundred young men and women locked in combat. They paid no heed to the notorious scion of the Hei family, engrossed as they were in their exercises.

Being an instructor for the Hei family was a coveted position. Merely by residing in the ancestral home, one could earn a handsome monthly salary. While it might lack in prospects, it was an attractive option for someone content with their lot.

The role of instructor was not for the faint-hearted. One had to command respect from the youths and ensure the training was effective. The master had to be inventive daily, catering to the varied training needs of the group.

As Nangong Fan ambled closer, the young men and women occasionally shot him disdainful looks. In a world where martial prowess was paramount, not even Hei Ze, as the legitimate heir, could command their respect.

At the edge of the crowd, a gaunt figure abandoned his sparring partner, unconcerned with the instructor's displeased expression. Wielding a wooden stick, he nimbly leaped towards Nangong Fan. Before even reaching him, he bellowed, "Young Master, you've finally returned. Butler Hei intends to report your conduct to the great lord."

The slender young man before him, Qin Guang, was the adopted son of Hei Ze's parents. He shared Hei Ze's surname and grew up alongside him, forming a close bond. In fact, he was Hei Ze's sole friend among the younger members of the Hei Family.

The grand patriarch of the Hei Family, Hei Ze's grandfather, was none other than Hei Chao Yu.

The butler, Hei Yu Long, was a relative of the Hei Family, taking his mother's surname. His mother was the sister of Hei Chao Yu. His son, Hei Jiao, possessed remarkable talent. At just eighteen, he had reached the pinnacle of Martial Mastery and had even begun to perceive the subtle patterns of spiritual energy in the world. On the cusp of becoming a cultivator, he stood out among his Hei Family peers. His father's status was elevated by his son's accomplishments, securing him the coveted position of the Hei Family's steward.

Upon learning of Hei Ze's unique constitution, Hei Yu Long saw boundless potential. His own son carried the Hei bloodline, making it not entirely impossible for him to supplant Hei Ze as the rightful heir.

Hei Ze's solitary journey to Pluto was partly spurred by Hei Jiao's taunts about his ineffectiveness as the heir.

Driven by rumors of the black dragon species, he hastened to Pluto, eager to prove his worth and to console his aunt, whose eyes often betrayed her disappointment in him.

Nangong Fan, observing his childhood companion, let out a light chuckle and gave Qin Guang a reassuring pat on the shoulder. His voice dripped with disdain, a testament to his enduring playboy demeanor, which was ingrained in him to the core. "Little Guang, why would I fear that old fool?"

Known as the notorious playboy of Dragonstone, Nangong Fan exuded confidence and brashness, except in the presence of Hei Yushang. Even the most venerable elders of the Hei Family couldn't help but indulge him.

Qin Guang responded with a goofy laugh, scratching his head in a monkey-like fashion, struggling to keep the conversation going. His anxiety was palpable, turning his cheeks a shade that rivaled a monkey's behind.

Nangong Fan shook his head slightly, already accustomed to Qin Guang's simple-mindedness. He didn't expect any profound words from him. With a soft sigh, he said, "Little guy, keep up with your martial arts training. When the time comes, I want you to give that Black Flood Dragon a thrashing for me. I've got things to do, so I'm heading inside."

Qin Guang nodded eagerly, watching as Nangong Fan made his way past the other practitioners and deeper into the estate. Then, he returned to his training, his lean figure surprisingly commanding.

His sparring partner, however, was a boy of about twelve or thirteen, clearly not favored by the teacher as much as the Hei family's adopted son. Yet, he was still a step up from his own young master, who had abandoned all physical training after his Body of a Hundred Hollows was revealed. He couldn't even voice his concerns; reporting to the teacher only resulted in a dismissive, "Let him be," before being sent away.

Initially, he had been able to retrieve the Body Cultivation Technique from the Myriad Treasure Tower, hoping to set the young master on a different, albeit challenging, path to success. But Nangong Fan was unaware of the teacher's well-meaning plans. Right now, his mind was consumed with urgency.

He was determined to solve the mystery that plagued him: whether he could cultivate once more depended on this very moment. All other concerns paled in comparison.

Nangong Fan continued on his way, passing by the numerous single-story courtyards that lay behind the expansive training grounds—homes to the Black Family members. Most of these dwellings were modest one-story structures where the adult disciples each had a wooden hut, offering them a private space of their own.

Yet, possessing spiritual energy meant it was time to venture out. Whether it was joining the military or simply leaving Dragonstone, the Black Family didn't provide demon beast meat and Foundation Establishment medicine for them to indulge in the comforts of the ancestral home. With only the necessary defenses and those too old, weak, or sick to leave, the ancestral home was protected by powerful formations. And with the Black Family's current prosperity, they had little to fear from petty threats.

The Black Family, with its millennia of heritage, might have the old, weak, sick, and disabled concealing a few bloodthirsty tigers among them.

Several narrow paths crisscrossed the cluster of wooden houses, linking the front and rear of the Black Mansion.

The cluster's sole towering structure stood at the very center of all the wooden houses.

Three imposing buildings stood out prominently, like cranes among chickens.

The central building was the Patriarch's Mansion, flanked by the Internal Affairs Hall on one side and the Law Enforcement Hall on the other. These core institutions of the Black Family were encircled by a long wall at the heart of the compound, which featured a spacious ground with a solitary fighting stage at its center. Here, family disputes could be settled, but without inflicting harm. Should anyone take matters into their own hands, the Law Enforcement Hall's blade would show no mercy.

Without rules, there is no order, and the Law Enforcement Hall is the most feared by all members of the Black Family. Some of its regulations impose significant constraints even on the direct descendants. The Black Family's direct lineage is scarce, and it is only by treating collateral relatives and family warriors well that the family can continue to thrive.

Nangong Fan walked along the central path of the wooden houses, his face alight with anticipation, which soon turned into arrogance. "Once I find that mysterious space, I should be able to start my cultivation, right? With my talent, I look forward to seeing who would dare call me worthless in the future."

Without hesitation, Nangong Fan continued straight through the cluster of wooden houses.

Behind the wooden houses, the shaded groves offered respite, with only three narrow paths winding through them. Stepping onto these paths, the summer heat seemed to vanish, replaced by a refreshing coolness.

Nangong Fan gazed intently at the moss-covered path leading deeper into the Black Mansion, his eyes filled with nostalgia as he sighed softly, "Father..."

The middle path was seldom traveled. It led to the most secluded part of the Black Mansion, where an ancient house stood—the ancestral hall of the Black Family.

Only those ancestors who had made significant contributions to the Black Family were granted entry into the ancestral hall.

For the collateral relatives and family retainers, it was an honor to be laid to rest in the ancestral hall after death.

A quaint wooden cabin had recently been constructed in front of the ancestral hall. This cabin was central to most of Hei Ze's memories from a few years back. A vigorous man resided within, spending his days engrossed in ancient tomes, his song accompanied by clear wine, his dance partner solitude, and his constant companion, melancholy.

Where had the once peerless prodigy, who had reigned supreme over Dragonstone City, vanished to?

The very individuals he once trampled underfoot had risen to power, with the current City Lord exuding an unmatched presence.

Now, he was left only with the silent ancestral hall for company, confiding his anguish and regrets to the spirits that lingered there. His own child hadn't visited him for years.

Nangong Fan was struck by a sudden realization that his former self had been an utter scoundrel. Could such actions ever be considered human?

Even though Nangong Fan didn't recognize himself as Nangong Fan and knew he was no longer Hei Ze, the memories persisted, as vivid as if he had lived them himself. Not even the most enigmatic techniques could shield him from these altered sentiments.

While one's appearance could be altered, even to the point of deception with supreme grade disguise arts, it is the divergence in thoughts that truly distinguishes one person from another.

​