The visitor was Yan Zhen’s grandfather, the current City Lord of Martial Tang City, Yan Lie.
The old man wore a robe of blazing red, his hair a shock of white. Though he had reached the Half-Step Mystic General realm, his vitality seemed lacking.
Yan Zhen, familiar with the story’s plot, knew the reasons all too well.
For one, Yan Lie was advanced in years, his body failing and old hidden injuries lingering. For another… it was because of his grandson Yan Zhen and his son Yan Xiao.
A full decade ago, Yan Lie had passed the position of City Lord to Yan Xiao.
Yan Xiao was not only the strongest member of the Yan Family but also had a son with exceptional talent like Yan Zhen. It had been a natural succession.
Yet three years prior, Yan Zhen had abruptly plummeted from prodigy to waste, and Yan Xiao had ventured out with others in search of medicine to restore his son’s gifts—only to vanish without a trace.
With his grandson turned cripple and his son missing, the double blow had aged Yan Lie by years overnight. Yet he had no choice but to resume command, managing both family affairs and the city’s governance.
Day after day of relentless toil had worn him down, aggravating those hidden wounds. Then came the forceful engagement annulment from Yan Zhen’s fiancée, which struck him with such fury that he fell gravely ill.
Once Yan Lie collapsed, the Yan Family lost its pillar, unable to hold down the Three Great Families of Martial Tang City. That sparked a chain of conflicts.
In the end, it was Yan Zhen who gathered the necessary herbs, commissioning his beautiful master to refine a Third-Tier Elixir that cured Yan Lie. Grandfather and grandson joined forces to quash the alliance of the three families.
That arc had been the climax of the novel’s first volume.
—He was getting sidetracked.
Yan Lie had come to comfort Yan Zhen.
Yan Zhen’s mother had passed not long after his birth. After he fell from grace and his father disappeared, in the vast City Lord’s mansion with its thousands of clansmen, only Grandpa still cared for him.
Seeing the old man’s slightly stooped back, Yan Zhen sighed inwardly. He called out “Grandpa” with genuine warmth and assured him that he wasn’t shaken in the least, so there was no need to worry.
Yan Lie smiled, pleased.
“That’s the spirit, Zhen’er. Oh, right—Grandpa has a surprise for you.”
“A surprise?”
Yan Zhen looked puzzled.
Yan Lie chuckled and drew a gilded invitation from his wide sleeve, handing it over.
“Take a look.”
Yan Zhen took it, feeling its slight weight in his hand. The cover read: “Cloud Light Marquis, Flying Eagle Divine General Huangfu Xiong of the Garo Royal Capital respectfully presents.”
An invitation?
Yan Zhen flipped it open in haste. Inside, it stated that in five days, Huangfu Xiong would arrive at the Martial Tang Yan Clan with his granddaughter Huangfu Wenqing and a retinue of servants to discuss the marriage arrangements.
Huangfu Xiong and Yan Lie had been comrades-in-arms in their youth, brothers forged in blood and battle. Over drinks, the two elders had arranged the betrothal between their houses—that of Yan Zhen and Huangfu Wenqing.
In other words, Huangfu Wenqing was Yan Zhen’s fiancée, promised sight unseen at birth.
The problem was this invitation.
According to the plot, Huangfu Xiong was supposed to be bedridden with illness at this point, unable to travel. Huangfu Wenqing was meant to show up secretly with her sect backing to annul the engagement on the sly—nothing about any invitation.
Things weren’t matching the script he knew!
Yan Zhen felt a foreboding chill.
“Grandpa, you mean the marriage pact?”
“Of course, your betrothal to little Wenqing. Back in the day, Grandpa and old man Huangfu enlisted together. In the chaos of battle, I took a fatal blow for him. We swore brotherhood, thick as thieves. You were born right around the time little Wenqing came into the world. When we put you two infants together, you even hooked pinkies. Both families were thrilled and sealed the deal right then.”
Yan Lie’s eyes twinkled with fond memories.
“So many years later, you’re both grown. It’s time to put the wedding on the agenda.”
“Er…”
Was it possible—purely hypothetically—that they were coming to break it off?
Yan Zhen desperately wanted to voice it but figured Grandpa would wallop him. Better leave it.
“What’s wrong, Zhen’er? Not happy?”
“Not unhappy, exactly. It’s just… I’ve barely met Huangfu Wenqing a handful of times. Jumping straight to wedding talks feels a bit… premature, don’t you think?”
At those words, the old man’s face darkened instantly.
“Premature? Let me tell you, little Wenqing isn’t just a beauty—she’s got outstanding cultivation talent. The king named her a county princess, and the National Advisor took her as a personal disciple. Do you have any idea who the National Advisor is?”
Of course I do. Hell, I’ll be flirting with her and her junior sister soon enough—though it’ll stay at flirtation, no payoff.
Yan Zhen kept up a blank facade while muttering inwardly.
“Isn’t the National Advisor… just the National Advisor?”
“Wrong! The National Advisor is the Grand Palace Lord of our Garo Kingdom’s National Guardian Divine Sect—the Cloud Heaven Palace. Leader of the Eight Immortals in the Clouds. Not only is the title prestigious, but the National Advisor’s cultivation has reached the Mystic Lord realm. Across the entire Garo Kingdom, fewer than a handful can match that power!” Yan Lie sighed with emotion. “With little Wenqing as the National Advisor’s disciple, her future is limitless. Truth be told, it’s our Yan Family that’s reaching above our station now!”
Which is why they’re about to dump us, heh.
“Anyway, enough of that. The invitation’s dated two days ago, so the Huangfu folks will arrive in three. Zhen’er, smarten up by then. Don’t let the young lady see you slovenly and poke fun.”
“Got it, Grandpa.”
After a few more instructions, Yan Lie departed. Yan Zhen returned to his bed, lost in thought.
An invitation that didn’t exist in the script had appeared out of nowhere.
Something was fishy here!
But Yan Zhen had no countermeasures. He could only hope the plot didn’t veer too wildly off course—at least enough for him to improvise.
Gurgle.
His stomach rumbled with hunger. Only then did Yan Zhen realize he hadn’t eaten since returning from the morning aptitude test, and night was falling.
Knock knock knock. The door sounded again, and Yan Zhen caught the irresistible aroma of food!
Had a servant brought dinner?
He scrambled off the bed and opened the door—then froze. Standing there was Yan Meng’er!
The girl cradled a tray laden with steaming dishes.
“Cousin Yan Zhen, you haven’t had dinner yet, right? Meng’er brought some for you.”
“…”
Yan Zhen wasn’t thrilled to see Yan Meng’er. Who knew what improv she’d pull next? It was making him edgy.
“Cousin?”
Seeing his stony expression, a touch of pitiful vulnerability flickered in Yan Meng’er’s eyes, as if fearing he’d coldly rebuff her kindness.
Yan Zhen said nothing, merely stepping aside to let her in.
Yan Meng’er relaxed inwardly. Her pretty face bloomed with a smile as she carried the tray into Yan Zhen’s room and set it on the table.
“Eat it while it’s hot, Cousin Yan Zhen. I made these to your tastes.”
Sweet-and-sour ribs, spicy grilled fish, stir-fried water spinach in oil… All spot-on, mouthwatering.
“You made these?”
Yan Meng’er gave a soft “Mm.”
She’d cooked for him before—in fact, that’s how she’d honed her skills.
Early on, Yan Zhen had been her unwitting guinea pig, bravely sampling her disastrous experiments under her expectant gaze every day…
Those were happier memories.
Yan Zhen hesitated a moment, then sat beside Yan Meng’er. He grabbed a bowl in one hand, chopsticks in the other, and dug in heartily.
Simple reason: he was starving!
