With the Netherworld’s ghostly qi fully resurgent, the crimson full moon bore two afterimages at its sides, looking like the eyes of a three-eyed crow. This phenomenon granted more and more ghostly beings the ability to cultivate—but over ninety-nine percent of them would stall at the Qi Refinement Stage, never advancing to the Foundation Establishment Realm. In any place, at any time, cultivators would always remain a minority. To reach Foundation Establishment was already exceptional; to reach the Core Formation Realm was even more so!
A five-hundred-year-old Core Formation cultivator was considered useless. One of a mere one hundred and fifty years was said to possess the bearing of a ghostly immortal. But a nine-year-old in the Core Formation Realm—so long as he did not perish prematurely—was destined to become a major figure above ghostly immortals! From that day on, Ye Yu’s prankster reputation was replaced with prodigy status. Hearing this, anyone who recalled Ye Tong’s earlier words suddenly felt they made a strange sort of sense. Yet Ye Tong himself remained bewildered.
He admitted to himself, honestly, that he had no idea Ye Yu actually possessed cultivation. He only remembered urging him to practice, to no avail, and so had let the matter go, intending to revisit it once Ye Yu came of age. The lofty talk of imperial bearing had been meant only to silence others’ taunts. He never expected his son to actually break through to the Core Formation Realm. It was simply unbelievable—and more than a little frightening. Could this ghost-child have been body–snatched by someone else?
Haunted by the thought, Ye Tong kept sneaking glances at Ye Yu, hoping to detect some abnormality. “What are you looking at?” Ye Yu wondered. “Never seen a nine-year-old Core Formation cultivator before? Doubting that I’m really your son? Honestly, I doubt it sometimes, too!” All these years, Ye Yu had developed the habit of snapping back at anything said to him. Instantly, Ye Tong’s eyes reddened.
Ye Yu was surprised. “Wait, Father, weren’t you supposed to be thick-skinned these days? Why are you getting so worked up? Did I hit a nerve?” Ye Tong patted Ye Yu’s shoulder earnestly and said, “Now that’s more like it. Lately you haven’t been roasting me—and I was worried you’d been body–snatched!” Upon hearing that, Ye Yu rolled his eyes. “Father, have you gone mad from all the roasting?”
At ten years old, a shabby old Daoist arrived in Dragon-Snake Alley of Nian City, claiming to be Xiang Wuzong, Sect Leader of the No-Trace Ghost Abode, and addressing Ye Tong: “I have divined our fates are intertwined. I wish to accept your son as my disciple. Do you consent?” Ye Tong hastily cupped his hands in salute.
The No-Trace Ghost Abode was a foremost sect on Nian City’s outskirts, its reputation immense. Rumor held that its late sect leader had been a mortal Daoist on the verge of ascension, slain by enemies whose resentment birthed a powerful ghostly being. After ten thousand years of cultivation, he had become a Heaven-Ghost Realm powerhouse. Of course, Ye Tong had heard this only second- or third-hand; its truth remained uncertain.
Yet judging by the old man’s shabby robes, Ye Tong felt disappointment. “Surely he is no Heaven-Ghost Realm master—who would dress like that?” he thought. Xiang Wuzong waved lightly and said, “I have good temperament despite my reputation. Call forth your son and let me judge for myself. If he declines to become my disciple, I shall not force the matter.” Ye Tong hesitated.
Just then Ye Yu returned and, seeing Xiang Wuzong at a glance, halted in his tracks. From the ghost-qi rippling off the old man’s body, it was clear he was indeed a peak Heaven-Ghost Realm expert. “Dragon-Snake Alley is known for its impoverished ghosts; what is such a great figure doing here? If I could absorb his negative emotions, it would yield a torrent of energy!” Ye Yu’s eyes gleamed.
Xiang Wuzong spotted him as well. “You must be Ye Yu,” he said softly, bowing. “You’ve reached the «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» late Core Formation Realm at ten years old—truly remarkable. Tell me, have you considered apprenticing?” Ye Yu frowned. Should he roast this fellow or hold back for fear of angering him and risking being killed? If he died, this dream would end!
Sensing his hesitation, Xiang Wuzong continued: “Your father says you’re ill-tempered, but I see otherwise. You’re merely shy. Speak your mind—I promise I won’t take offense.” He smiled gently, trying to appear kindly and win over the ghostly child.
Ye Yu’s spirit lifted. “You have a good temper, do you? I’ll put that to the test!” he thought. Then he turned to Ye Tong. “Father, are you crazy? This decrepit, ugly beggar claims to be a sect leader—just because he says so? I was going to claim I’m a Ghost-Emperor Realm powerhouse! Hurry up and chase this old turtle-spawn out of here before he spoils my mood!”
Ye Tong gasped inwardly—his son’s performance was as reliably savage as ever. But the No-Trace Ghost Abode was no second-rate sect; no one would impersonate its leader lightly. Moreover, the old man’s ghost-qi was overwhelmingly real. “How can you speak so of him?” Ye Tong exclaimed, rushing forward to clamp his hand over Ye Yu’s mouth and offer profuse apologies.
Yet Ye Yu flashed aside and, turning back to Xiang Wuzong, sneered, “Old turtle-spawn, what are you staring at? Keep looking and I’ll pop your eyeballs!”
At that moment, Xiang Wuzong’s expression was nothing short of spectacular. It turned out that by “ill-tempered,” he hadn’t meant to imply modesty—but rather to hint at the ferocity beneath!
