Chapter One: Visitors from the Fishermen’s Family

August. Osmanthus fragrance drifted across Egret Isle. At dusk, as the rain clouds receded, the unwilling sun cast a faint afterglow across the land. The scent of osmanthus blossoms encircled the Mu Estate, their delicate yellow petals bejeweled with raindrops on every branch. A gentle breeze scattered the petals, sending them down in a gentle shower, glistening with rain. Seven or eight lively children, as energetic as newborn foals, played noisily on the stone arch bridge to the right of the estate’s gate. Suddenly, one of them spotted Yu Youwei, strolling slowly along the mossy path from the woods. In a moment, they rushed at her, forming a circle and shouting in unison, “Yu Youwei, your father is unknown!”

Sparrows on the branches scattered with a raucous clamor, but Yu Youwei paid them no heed. She simply closed her oil-paper umbrella and shook it lightly, sending droplets flying. The children blocking her way shrank aside, parting to let her pass. With unhurried grace, she continued along the stone path out of the woods.

“Get out of the Mu Estate!” the ringleader, her younger cousin, shouted. His animosity toward Yu Youwei was longstanding—ever since he’d bullied her at age three and been soundly beaten by his older brother. From then on, he sought every opportunity to make trouble for her, suffering repeated thrashings in return, and the feud only deepened. Her indifference only fueled his rage.

“When you’ve managed to kill your own father, then your brother, and finally succeeded your grandfather as clan head, you can say that to me.” Yu Youwei replied with mocking ease. She plucked a cluster of osmanthus blossoms, inhaled their fragrance, and tossed them deliberately at her cousin’s feet, watching as he, huffing with fury, rolled up his sleeves as if to strike. She was about to tease him further when a thunderous voice rang out from the edge of the woods, “Little rascal, are you itching for another beating?” The group of children scattered like frightened birds.

Turning, they saw their eldest cousin, Mu Yuqi, hurrying down from the stone bridge. Yu Youwei shook her head in disapproval, “Why take these little brats so seriously?”

“If you keep bothering Youwei, I’ll tan your hides again,” Mu Yuqi threatened, shaking his fist after the retreating children. Then, trotting up to Yu Youwei, he said, “Uncle De said the Yu family from Dongling is arriving soon. Grandfather wants us to hurry over.” Yu Youwei did not reply. Her clear gaze showed only disdain as she walked away, graceful and unhurried.

Outside the main gate stood a luxurious carriage. A tall young man in black stepped down, surrounded by over twenty silver-armored guards. The master of the Mu Estate and a dozen clan elders waited respectfully on either side of the gate, bowing deeply.

The gold-embroidered black robe only enhanced the young man’s imposing presence. Yu Youwei noticed him at once; her cool eyes, usually as still as a deep pool, rippled with emotion—but it was loathing, not admiration.

The young man in black also noticed the purple-clad beauty emerging from the osmanthus grove. He had seen countless women, passing through flowers untouched by a single leaf, yet even he was momentarily struck by the purity and ethereal quality of Yu Youwei. A strange expression flickered across his otherwise cold and predatory face.

Ah, she was not yet a woman at all.

She was only fourteen, tall but just beginning to fill out. Her light purple dress was unadorned, the sash tied loosely at her slender waist. As she walked unhurriedly onto the stone bridge, her skirt and ribbons fluttered gently in the breeze, making her unpainted face appear all the more pure and otherworldly, as if she might be swept away by the wind at any moment.

Meeting his scrutinizing gaze, she did not look away. A dark light flashed in her eyes, her lips pressed tightly together, and her flawless, jade-like face grew even more tense.

This was no snow lotus blooming quietly on a frozen peak! The young man in black caught the shadow of darkness in her eyes and smiled silently, wicked delight lurking at the corners of his mouth. Mu Yuqi, voice lowered in excitement, whispered, “That’s Yu Shiyu!” His eyes were feverish with admiration.

In the cultivation world, spiritual roots were paramount, followed by opportunity and resources. Yu Shiyu lacked for none of these. The weakest five-element root was already one in ten thousand; his celestial root was rarer still—perhaps one in millions. The Yu family of Dongling was a prestigious clan, even in Qian, the foremost nation of the Eastern Continent. As the chief grandson of the main branch, Yu Shiyu received the full support of his clan.

Despite these stellar conditions, Yu Shiyu rarely relied on medicinal aids for cultivation. This maniac had trained his survival skills in the wild since the age of seven, spending half the year each year battling demon beasts in the mountains. By nineteen, he had already reached the peak of Qi Refining, able to slay beasts on par with the Foundation Establishment stage. He was the idol of every hot-blooded youth in Dongling and the most notorious romantic rogue in the province.

“Is that philanderer really worth all this excitement?” Yu Youwei replied coolly, her gaze drifting to the water below the bridge. A few red-beaked paradise birds hopped among the duckweed, occasionally snatching up tiny fish called 'thousand-year blossoms'.

Yu Shiyu lifted his chin in her direction. “Is that her?”

A guard beside him answered respectfully, “Yes, that’s Miss Yu Youwei, the ninth young lady.”

In a flash, Yu Shiyu appeared at Yu Youwei’s side. “What’s so fascinating?” he asked with keen interest, eyeing her as if waiting for her to startle and flee like a frightened rabbit.

Yu Youwei stepped back almost imperceptibly, then looked up at him with a gaze as cold as freshly melted ice.

“You dislike me?” Yu Shiyu raised an eyebrow, a flicker of anger rising in his heart. This errand was only a minor task; he was to bring her back to the clan after completing his own affairs. They had never interacted before and likely never would again, yet she clearly despised him. What right did she have?

“Youwei, hurry and pay your respects to the young master.”

Prompted by her uncle, Yu Youwei offered a perfunctory bow. “Greetings, Young Master Yu.” She had been reborn in this world of cultivation, memories of her past life intact. She was a fatherless illegitimate child; her mother, Mu Qingxi, was the daughter of the Mu Estate’s master by a concubine. After becoming pregnant, she returned to the estate to give birth—at least they’d bothered to give the child her family name, even choosing the same name as in her previous life.

In her past life, Yu Youwei had been celebrated as one of the three great talented ladies of the Tang dynasty, composing poetry with famed literati like Wen Tingjun. At sixteen, she became the concubine of Li Yi, was scorned by his wife, Lady Pei, yet remained devoted. Forced into a Daoist convent under the name Xuanji, she waited three years in vain, then abandoned herself to vice and passion, ultimately executed for killing a maid in a drunken rage.

In this life, Yu Youwei swore she would not let love wound her again, nor would she lament, “Priceless treasures are easy to find; a true heart is hard to come by.” If not for her mother’s sake, she would already have taken vows at a mountain temple, with her Daoist name chosen—Xuanji.

“We are family. No need for such formality,” Yu Shiyu said suddenly, reaching out to grasp her arm.

Yu Youwei choked on her own saliva in surprise. “Young Master Yu, I may bear the surname Yu, but I have nothing to do with your family.”

Yu Shiyu explained patiently, “Your mother was my fourth uncle’s chambermaid. After he passed away, she was sent home, already carrying his child. Second Brother is here to bring you back to the clan.”

The expressions on the Mu family’s faces were a sight to behold; it was clear very few had known this secret. Yu Youwei’s expression, however, remained serene—showing none of the delight of a lowly chicken suddenly becoming a phoenix. Since she could remember, her mother, Mu Qingxi, had supported their little family as a man would, never once mentioning that her father was from the Yu family of Dongling. Yet, it made sense—had she not been of Yu blood, an unmarried woman giving birth would have been drowned in a pig cage. How else could mother and daughter have lived peacefully in the Mu Estate all these years?