That night.
Ye Ling quietly pushed open her room door, slipping through the shadows of the corridor before stepping into the empty courtyard.
The courtyard was silent and deserted, the perfect place to practice her martial techniques.
Gazing at the open space, a bright gleam flashed in her eyes.
Now that her family's ancestral cultivation technique had reached Great Perfection, her realm had advanced to the Houtian Sixth Layer, and she had the blessing of the Dao seal in her sea of consciousness, her strength was nothing like before.
She could not wait to test out her martial techniques.
According to clan rules, disciples with cultivation below the Houtian Third Layer could only focus on practicing the family cultivation technique.
Only after breaking through to the Third Layer could they go to the Martial Arts Pavilion to select two Yellow-grade low-tier martial techniques to practice.
Ye Ling had reached the Houtian Third Layer a year and a half ago. Although she had only obtained her martial techniques a little over a year ago, both had already reached Mastery.
It seemed that beyond her natural talent, her comprehension was also far superior to others.
The two martial techniques she practiced—one sword technique and one fist technique—were both Yellow-grade low-tier.
First, she would practice the Wild Bull Fist.
She bent her legs slightly, sinking her waist, and channeled power into her fists and arms. She stood as still as a mountain, yet carried the momentum of a wild bull.
Spiritual energy surged through her meridians. Her fist strikes were fierce and heavy, each move delivered with measured precision.
The techniques of exerting force and transitioning between moves, which she previously had to ponder repeatedly, now flowed naturally and effortlessly according to her will.
The wind howled with her punches as the force multiplied layer by layer.
The execution of the entire fist technique was incredibly smooth, its power several times greater than before.
As her hands and feet rose and fell, her inner strength became increasingly harmonious, and her moves melded into a seamless whole.
All the minor flaws of the past vanished. The entire fist technique became flawless from the inside out, easily breaking through its barriers to firmly enter Great Perfection.
“It's done.”
She pulled back her fists and stood straight, her breathing slightly rapid, but her heart was filled with sheer delight.
“The Wild Bull Fist has reached Great Perfection. Next, the Breeze Sword Technique.”
Reaching behind her back, she unsheathed the longsword at her waist, her fingertips brushing across the cool blade.
The moves of the Breeze Sword Technique were intricate and closely linked.
At Initial Mastery, one could unleash three strikes in succession. Upon reaching Mastery, one could swing six times in the blink of an eye.
As she executed the sword technique now, the sword light layered over itself in an endless stream, its speed astonishingly fast.
Having clearly reached Great Perfection, her striking speed far exceeded Mastery, reaching nine strikes per second.
The sword moved with her body, the silver blade reflecting the moonlight in fragments of shimmering light as her sleeves fluttered gently in the wind.
Merged with the hazy night, the girl and her sword formed a picturesque scene in every posture, elegant and captivating.
With both her fist and sword techniques reaching Great Perfection, combined with her cultivation technique's Great Perfection and her breakthrough in realm, Ye Ling's strength had surged immensely.
“With my current strength, none of my peers at the Houtian Seventh Layer should be a match for me.”
She calculated in her mind.
Currently, among the entire younger generation of the Ye family, there were only two she was not entirely confident in defeating.
Ye Ling, twenty years old, at the Houtian Eighth Layer, the son of the Clan Head.
Ye Fei, nineteen years old, Houtian Eighth Layer, the Grand Elder's granddaughter.
The family competition had clear rules, only allowing clan members aged fifteen to twenty to participate.
She would turn exactly fifteen just before the competition, so these two would likely be her formidable opponents.
“There are still six months until the competition.”
“By then, I won't have to fear either of them.”
She paused, then thought of another person.
“The only one I truly need to pay some attention to is Ye Chen.”
“But that's only for now.”
She believed that with a little more time, she would leave all her peers far behind.
Putting future matters aside for now, she needed to focus on her current practice.
She gripped her sword hilt tightly once more, immersing herself completely in her practice.
The sword light drifted continuously like a gentle breeze wrapping around her. Every move was fluid and smooth, showcasing the exquisite nature of the sword technique.
The brilliant light bathed the courtyard, and the bright moonlight cascaded down like water.
The young girl stood with her sword, her posture as graceful as a startled swan under the moon.
She was so absorbed in her practice that she did not notice two figures standing quietly by a distant window.
Ye Ling's father and mother stood side by side in front of the window, smiles unconsciously gracing their faces as they watched their daughter practice.
Ye Qingxuan said softly, “This child truly loves the sword.”
Wu Wanmei nodded, a smile playing on her lips. “She loves it from the bottom of her heart.”
The two exchanged a look, an idea forming in their minds.
“We were wondering what to prepare for her birthday gift, but now it's clear.”
Ye Qingxuan shook his head helplessly and turned to walk back inside.
Wu Wanmei cast one more glance at the figure holding the sword in the courtyard before gently closing the window.
Ye Ling was completely unaware.
She practiced deep into the night, repeatedly polishing both martial techniques until every single move was flawless before she sheathed her sword and returned to her room.
The next day, as the sky began to brighten, Ye Ling woke up.
Thanks to the fusion of her souls from two lifetimes, her entire body felt light and free of any fatigue.
Lying in bed, she stared at the canopy, uncharacteristically not heading straight to the martial arts arena to practice.
“Should I take a rest today?”
The moment the thought arose, she found it amusing.
Since she began cultivating, she had rarely taken a day off on her own initiative.
Once a disciple's cultivation reached the Houtian Fifth Layer, the clan no longer mandated attendance at the martial arts arena.
She had persisted in going before because her sword technique had not yet reached Great Perfection.
Ye Long only went occasionally to humiliate Ye Chen.
But now, her sword technique was at Great Perfection.
“Then let's rest for a day.”
She closed her eyes and rolled over.
Then she rolled over again.
And rolled over once more.
“I can't sleep.”
“Forget it, I'll go.”
Ye Ling tidied herself up, got out of bed, and headed out.
The martial arts arena was located on the east side of the Ye family estate, only a few hundred paces away on foot.
From afar, she could already hear the rising and falling shouts and the sound of weapons cutting through the air.
Looking ahead, the arena, which was as large as a soccer field, was bustling with activity.
The grounds were divided into several areas. On the left, youths stood in steady horse stances, punching and kicking along with the instructor, each strike whipping up a howling wind.
In the center area, those practicing swordplay leaped and shifted, their long and short blades reflecting the sky with glints of cold light.
The right side was even more exciting, with long staffs swinging so tightly they seemed impenetrable, and single sabers sweeping with chilling sharpness.
Every youth in the arena was focused on their own task. Coupled with the occasional guidance from the instructors, the entire martial arts arena hummed with vibrant, bustling energy.
Ye Ling stood still, her gaze scanning the crowd.
Then, she spotted someone.
Among the crowd, a youth dressed in red was particularly conspicuous.
He was tall, about 1.85 meters, with ordinary features, but a lingering ruthlessness was etched between his brows, and his entire aura exuded arrogance.
It was Ye Long.
He was surrounded by several lackeys, each wearing a fawning expression, constantly uttering sycophantic words.
“Brother Long, that Ye Chen really doesn't know his place. With his meager skills, he actually dares to loiter around the martial arts arena.”
“Exactly! How could he possibly compare to you?”
They chimed in one after another, each sentence belittling Ye Chen, solely intent on pleasing the red-clothed youth beside them.
Hearing this, the ruthlessness in Ye Long's eyes deepened, and a cold sneer curled at the corner of his lips.
Striding forward, he led his lackeys toward Ye Chen.
Ye Ling followed his gaze.
Ye Chen was standing in a corner of the arena, practicing his swordplay with deep concentration.
He wore a simple green robe, his features clean and refined.
Even though his cultivation had been stagnant for two whole years, he had never shown the slightest slackness.
His sword strikes were slow, yet every single move was executed with utmost seriousness. Sweat rolled down his cheeks, completely unnoticed by him.
Nearby, some people whispered in discussion.
“Here we go again. How many times has Ye Long targeted Ye Chen now?”
“Who knows? Either way, it's always Ye Chen who gets beaten up.”
“I mean, Ye Chen is really something too. Knowing he can't win, he still comes every single time.”
“What else can he do? You can run, but you can't hide forever.”
Ye Ling watched this scene from afar, her brow furrowing slightly.
She did not walk over.
It wasn't that she didn't want to interfere, but rather that this was not her business.
Ye Chen had his own path to walk.
If he truly was the protagonist, he would have to face this kind of situation on his own sooner or later.
Ye Ling withdrew her gaze and turned to walk toward the other side of the arena.
She had come today to practice her sword.
As for Ye Long looking for trouble with Ye Chen, that was their affair.
She would practice her own.
With the sword in her hand, nothing else was more real.
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