AT: Hey everyone, it's been a while, LazyRedMoon here!
As you've probably noticed, I've taken down all the previous chapters and re-uploaded the first one. So, why the reset? Let me explain!
Over time, my thoughts about the direction of the story have shifted. I realized that I could do a much better job telling this novel, one that lives up to my own standards and gives you a richer, more satisfying experience.
With that in mind, I'm now going to be updating daily and slowly editing and reworking all the chapters. There will be new content, restructured scenes, and improvements throughout, so I highly recommend rereading everything from the start as it comes out!
The good news? We're still early in the story, so the changes are manageable. Rewriting the entire first arc would've been a nightmare (lol), but luckily, we're only at the beginning, so the reset is well worth it!
Thanks for reading this little update! I truly believe the new direction will make TSF a much better and more fulfilling read. To those who were waiting for new chapters, I'm sorry for this, but I hope you'll stick with me, stack up the new releases, and enjoy what's to come.
Let's keep going strong.
— LazyRedMoon
"Today should be the day," a man muttered quietly, sitting cross legged on a red cultivation mat.
His eyes were closed, his body utterly still. If not for the subtle rise and fall of his chest, one might have mistaken him for a lifeless corpse. But with each exhale, vibrant, multicolored lights flickered around him, flowing in and out of his pores like breath, like energy dancing in rhythm with his body.
Thanks to the occasional shimmer of those lights, the man's appearance could be faintly seen in the darkness of the room.
He looked to be in the twilight of his twenties, perhaps just stepping into his early thirties. From time to time, his skin would pale unnaturally, only to return moments later to a healthy, porcelain white. Then, without warning, his eyes snapped open.
They glowed, a vivid, luminous yellow, casting the only light in the pitch dark room.
He slowly tilted his head upward, toward the ceiling. Yet his glowing eyes didn't reflect the room above him. They were gazing beyond it, far beyond, into something only he could see. In the golden depths of his gaze shimmered the image of tonight's starless sky.
And then, as he blinked once, just once, a single thought emerged.
From the center of his glabella, a small, dirty gold figure silently took shape. It gleamed faintly, vibrating with energy. Then, with a wave of its tiny hand, the figure vanished from the room… and reappeared high above a sprawling mansion, floating weightlessly in the night sky.
The dirty golden figure turned to face the north, where a vast courtyard stretched across a mountain peak. Within it stood three great pavilions, each bearing a similar architectural style, though unique in their detailing.
Towering above them all, on the highest peak, stood a lone mansion.
Unlike the grand pavilions below, this mansion was built with refined green jade and shared a design reminiscent of the man's own residence, though it was smaller and more subtly crafted.
Fixing its glowing yellow gaze on the jade mansion, the golden figure raised its tiny hand. With a silent wave, it vanished from the sky and reappeared instantly at the entrance of the jade residence.
It hovered quietly before the sealed double doors, staring at them for a long moment. Then, slowly, its golden eyes shifted toward a different direction, as radiant light began to flicker around its form, enveloping it in a luminous glow that gradually consumed its figure.
Moments later, the dirty golden figure vanished once more.
It reappeared inside a study, an office filled with quiet concentration. A young man sat calmly in a chair, his back straight, his posture relaxed, not even glancing at the figure's arrival.
Surrounding him were dozens of recording plates, silently floating in the air. One glowed brightly in his hand.
The young man appeared to be in his early twenties, with long black hair that nearly reached the middle of his back. His eyes were bright yellow, aloof and focused, glowing with the same radiance as the golden figure's.
Ignoring the shining recording plate in his hand, he lifted his head and looked toward the visitor. For a brief moment, surprise flickered across his face, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by calm understanding.
He raised an eyebrow, then offered the golden figure a faint, knowing smile.
"Greetings, Third Brother. To what do I owe the honor of this unexpected visit?"
The young man spoke with forced cheer, his voice laced with a thin layer of excitement. But the small, dirty golden figure didn't respond immediately. It simply stared into the young man's glowing yellow eyes, its own gaze heavy with sadness, weariness, and something deeper... a quiet grief.
"Little Fifteen," the third brother said softly, his voice low and gentle, "isn't today the day your first child is to be born? Why aren't you there… to welcome your newborn into the world?"
The young man's smile vanished in an instant. The warmth in his expression twisted into raw fury. He let out a sharp snort, and his tone dropped, icy and venomous.
"Why should I go see that slut? Just to be reminded of that humiliation all over again? You already know the whole story, Third Brother, so why ask?"
His voice grew louder with each word, his fury rising like a tide.
"Sorry to disappoint you, but I don't want to. And I won't!"
By the end, he was nearly shouting.
The golden figure remained silent for a long moment. Then, slowly, it lowered its head and let out a quiet sigh.
"I understand," the third brother said at last. "But remember, even if that child was born from a deceitful woman, he still carries the blood of our Ling Clan. He is innocent of his parents' sins. Don't let your hatred for her become hatred for him."
Little Fifteen said nothing. Though his third brother's words were meant to reach his heart, they failed to pierce the walls he had built. Even if a part of him wanted to accept them, he couldn't. He turned away, refusing to confront the truth, unwilling to care about what was right or wrong.
A long silence hung in the room.
Then, a heavy, sorrowful sigh escaped from the third brother's lips. He lowered his gaze, his glowing yellow eyes seeming to pierce through the mansion's many walls until they settled on a distant bedroom.
Inside, a woman lay on a large bed, flanked by two maids. One of them held a small, swaddled infant gently in her arms.
"It's a boy," the third brother said quietly, informing his younger brother of the child's birth, but Little Fifteen offered no response. His eyes had drifted to the window, where the sky stretched on, empty and starless.
As the truth slowly sank in, his jaw tightened, and his teeth clenched. Rage flickered in his gaze, silent but intense.
After another moment passed, the third brother spoke again, his voice gentle. "His name is Ling Yang. A good name."
Those words, however, only deepened the wound.
The younger brother let out a cold, bitter laugh. "Ling Yang? Soaring Sun?" he scoffed. "He should be called Ling Ye."
The golden figure said nothing in return. He only sighed, deeply, silently, at the spiteful remark. After a long pause, he shook his small head in quiet disappointment.
He didn't argue. He didn't glance again toward the newborn child, not at Ling Yang, nor at the woman who had given birth to him.
Instead, his glowing gaze returned to his younger brother. The sadness faded from his face, replaced by a look of firm seriousness. The air between them shifted, from sorrow to solemnity.
Sensing this change, the younger brother straightened, instinctively setting aside his pain. Whatever came next, it was no longer about emotion.
"You've now stepped into the Soul Nurturing Realm," the third brother said calmly. "Your status will change. You're no longer just a young master, it's time you shouldered greater responsibility for the clan. In a few years, when the Heaven and Earth Tournament arrives, you will take part."
Little Fifteen nodded, unfazed. He had anticipated these words.
Rising from his seat, he bowed deeply and offered a formal salute.
"As your junior, I will naturally bring honor to the Ling Clan and will not disappoint the Third Grand Elder, nor the clan's expectations."
The third brother nodded in return, accepting the salute in solemn silence. Then, without another word, his small, dirty golden figure faded away, dissolving into the air.
As soon as the figure vanished, Little Fifteen exhaled a long, weary breath and sank back into his chair.
The cushions embraced him, and he leaned into them, tilting his head toward the ceiling. A faint, almost amused smile tugged at the corner of his lips as his brother's words echoed in his mind.
Heaven and Earth Tournament...
"Li Feng," he whispered, his voice low and cold, "this time, you'll feel it… heh."
His yellow eyes darkened, and a quiet, ominous chuckle rumbled in his throat, full of promise, full of vengeance.
At the same time, in the dark room of the Third Brother, his yellow eyes slowly opened. A long sigh escaped his lips as his thoughts returned to the name his younger brother had given his newborn son.
"Ling Ye… what a dark and heavy name," he murmured. "Instead of soaring under the light of day, he's destined to rise in the night and vanish into it. Truly, Little Brother… your path grows colder with each passing year."
He stood from the red cultivation mat and walked toward the door. The moment it opened, an old man appeared outside, standing upright with practiced respect. Like the Third Brother, his eyes gleamed with a golden hue, though his hair had turned brown with age rather than remaining black.
"Old servant greets the Third Grand Elder!" the man said, bowing deeply in salute.
The Third Brother's expression remained unchanged. He offered only a slight nod, treating such formality as routine.
"Old Wang," he said after a pause, "your lifespan nears its end. What will you do with the little time you have left?"
The question struck Old Wang like thunder. His eyes widened slightly, it was so sudden that he didn't know how to respond at first.
After a brief moment of thought, he straightened and replied with solemn dignity, the unwavering loyalty of a lifelong servant.
"This old man has served the Ling Clan since birth. Though my bloodline and cultivation were never strong or exceptional, I was privileged to witness the Third Grand Elder's youth with my own eyes. I was a playmate and companion to the late Second Young Master. Thus, I wish to follow his example, living and dying in service to the Ling Clan."
At the mention of his elder brother, a flicker of sorrow passed through the Third Grand Elder's eyes. He closed them briefly, recalling fragments of joyful days long gone. When he opened them again, a faint, wistful smile touched his lips.
"If that is your will, then I assign you to serve and guide Little Fifteen's child. Protect him from harm. Teach him when he is ready."
The words were spoken with quiet finality, not as a request, but as a solemn decree.
Old Wang bowed once more, this time dropping to one knee.
"This old servant accepts and will carry out the order. From this day forward, I shall serve the Third Grand Elder's nephew, living and dying for the young master!"
With those words, Old Wang turned and quietly departed, making his way toward the Library Courtyard.
As the old servant's figure slowly disappeared into the distance, the Third Grand Elder let out a deep, weary sigh. He muttered to himself:
"At least one person will truly want to see him grow up… There's nothing more I can do now, except watch over him from the shadows."
With that quiet thought, he raised his hand and vanished without a trace.
The door behind him, which had remained open all this time, shut in an instant. Dozens of glowing circles of light spun into existence across its surface, sealing it completely once more.
Fifteen years later…
Inside a quiet hall, three elders strolled through the passageways of the Hall of Spirituality. Among them was a middle-aged man with streaks of white in his otherwise dark hair. As they walked, he turned to the elderly figure beside him and offered a faint smile.
"Esteemed Clan Head," he asked casually, "do you believe there are any promising seedlings this year?"
The Clan Head let out a soft chuckle. Though the years had carved lines into his face, his eyes still gleamed with ambition, bright and unyielding.
"Promising seedlings?" the Clan Head echoed with a hint of amusement. "Naturally. This year, Ling Ye, the bookworm from the Library Courtyard, will be tested. He's the first son of my fifteenth younger brother. Although that brother of mine never truly cared for the boy, especially after the death of that woman… still, based on what I know of Third Brother's final arrangements before he passed, I can only hope something comes of them. Perhaps… his legacy may now find a successor."
The two elders walking beside him nodded slowly, their expressions thoughtful. The silence between them said more than words could.
"Indeed," one of them murmured. "To witness a second 'Ling Bao'… I believe the Third Grand Elder himself would smile down on us from the heavens and bless us through Ling Ye's emergence."
"Indeed, indeed!" the others echoed, nodding in agreement, all of them sharing the same quiet hope that Ling Ye might rise to become the brightest talent of this year.
The Clan Head gave a low chuckle, but behind his smile was a flicker of bitterness and hidden regret at the thought of his Third Brother's passing. Still, he said nothing more.
At that same moment, in a quiet courtyard under the starry sky, Ling Ye sat on the balcony outside his room, a book resting in his hand. His gaze was lifted to the heavens, where white stars shimmered faintly. A calm, gentle smile played on his lips.
Behind him stood a young woman, only a few years older than him. Her presence was silent yet familiar, like the moonlight itself.
She watched him quietly, a warmth in her eyes and a tender smile on her face.
Ling Ye exhaled softly, a faint sigh and without even looking, he sensed her presence.
"Young Master, you should get some rest," Wang Xin said gently. "Tomorrow is an important day."
Ling Ye nodded and stood, stretching lightly. He turned toward her with a soft smile, but just as she began to step away from the balcony, his voice stopped her.
"Sister Wang… do you think Father will come with us tomorrow?" he asked quietly.
Wang Xin froze, her hand still resting on the railing. Slowly, she turned to look at him, at his calm, handsome face, his shoulder-length black hair, and those deep, thoughtful eyes that always seemed to hold more than he said.
She had known him since the day her grandfather passed away. From that moment on, she had served him faithfully and in all that time, she had come to understand the silent ache behind his smile, the complicated, distant relationship between Ling Ye and his father.
"Haaah…" She let out a quiet sigh, unsure of what to say at first. Then, with a practiced, comforting smile, she replied,
"Young Master, don't worry. The Court Lord will surely attend your Spiritual Testing. You are still his son. I'm sure he cares… even if he doesn't know how to show it. So, don't let it weigh on your heart, alright?"
Hearing her words, Ling Ye's smile softened. The faint shadow that had lingered in his eyes melted away, replaced by warm, genuine laughter that filled the quiet night.
"That's good! I'll make Father proud and become just like Second Uncle," Ling Ye declared with determination. "Becoming a hero of the Ling Family and bringing glory to the clan, that's the life goal of anyone who carries the name Ling!"
Wang Xin chuckled softly, her eyes shining with quiet pride.
"Indeed. My grandfather would've been overjoyed to hear the young master speak with such spirit."
She paused for a moment, then added with a gentle smile, "To follow in the footsteps of the legendary Second Master, Ling Tian… Go now, rest well. And tomorrow, show off your spiritual root just like your uncle once did and begin your path as a true cultivator."
"Yes, Sister Wang!" Ling Ye replied, beaming.
With that, the two returned inside. Ling Ye climbed into bed, his heart alight with excitement and ambition.
That night, sleep took him swiftly, carried by dreams of glory, cultivation, and a future worthy of the Ling name.