Xia He and Qiu Lan remained close to Ye Yun's chest, their fingers digging into the white fabric of his robes as they exchanged glances fraught with utterly bewildered confusion.
It was the sheer violence of the shift in his demeanor that paralyzed them; the cold, jagged edges of his previous personality had vanished.
They had never experienced such warmth, and as he held them, both girls feared that they had slipped into a vivid dream—one that would inevitably shatter into shards the moment they dared to breathe.
"This... this is..."
Qiu Lan's voice faltered, her lips parting and closing in a futile attempt to grasp the words that had fled her mind. She searched his face, her breath hitching in her throat, desperate to reconcile the benevolent young man before her with the master she had served for years.
Xia He remained similarly silenced, though a flicker of uncertainty danced in her eyes. Like her companion, she trembled under the weight of her doubts, yet the fear of provoking a sudden, familiar outburst kept her tongue tied.
Sensing their hesitation, Ye Yun loosened his grip slightly, his expression calm and measured.
"Very well," he said, his voice smooth and composed. "Rest easy. I am still myself; it is simply that I have overcome my inner demons, and thus you perceive a shift in my disposition."
He had prepared this explanation with meticulous care, knowing that logic would be their only salvation. By attributing his change to the trial of Qi deviation, he provided a framework they could accept—the mysterious influence of inner demons was well-known for leaving a cultivator altered.
At his words, the rigid tension in Xia He and Qiu Lan's shoulders finally ebbed, replaced by a palpable wave of relief.
After all, the notion of an impostor had seemed absurd. Who, even among the most powerful Supreme Beings, could have infiltrated the innermost sanctum of the Ye Clan, hidden in plain sight?
Their breathing leveled, their bodies relaxed, and the cloud of doubt drifted away, consumed by the comforting weight of his presence.
Cultivation in the Immortal Realm was a ladder of dizzying proportions, divided into numerous harrowing stages that tested every fiber of a practitioner's being.
From the lowest, most mundane Physical Body stage, one ascended through Spiritual Sense, the Imperial Palace, and the Supernatural Power realm, eventually reaching the threshold of Dao-Seeking.
Beyond that lay the Great Might Realm—the stage Ye Yun now occupied—followed by the tiers of Marquis, King, and the divine Pseudo-God and True God stages.
From there, the path climbed higher still, through the sovereign heights of God-King, Undying, Quasi-Saint, Saint, and the reaches of the Saint Lord and Great Saint realms.
At the absolute zenith sat the Sovereign and Quasi-Supreme realms, and above them all, the legendary status of Supreme and Supreme Being. Only at the very end did the path culminate in the mythic Great Emperor Realm.
Each major realm was further split into four developmental stages—early, middle, late, and peak—ensuring that the road to immortality was long and fraught with stagnation.
To have broken through to the Great Might Realm at eighteen was to defy the natural laws of the universe. He was no longer merely a genius; he was a freak of nature, an anomaly that transcended conventional talent.
Within the hierarchy of the realm, a Great Might cultivator could easily establish their own sect, finding followers who would worship the ground beneath their feet.
Yet, such an endeavor was often a death sentence if the founder lacked further strength to protect their domain. The only true safety lay in affiliation with one of the Seven Great Pillars of the realm.
The Ye Clan, also known as the Ye Family, stood as the most formidable of these seven entities. Their vast, expanding dominion lay at the absolute center of the Immortal Realm.
The current patriarch of the clan, Ye Changkong, exercised absolute authority. His cultivation was of the Sovereign Realm, a level of power so immense that few in existence dared to challenge his decree.
Across the realm, the other great powers functioned similarly, each led by a Sovereign who controlled an array of vassal sects and nations for protection and tribute.
Eventually, Xia He stirred from her reverie, remembering the precarious situation awaiting them beyond the doors of the inner sanctum.
"Young Master," she urged, her voice fluttering with desperation, "now that you have awakened, you must visit the Clan Head and the Madam. They have waited days without sleep; they are desperately anxious for your recovery."
She and Qiu Lan were terrified that any delay would be interpreted as a slight; the consequences of keeping the patriarch waiting could be swift and lethal.
Ye Yun pondered her words, his mind working swiftly. He could sense that Xia He was right; his awakening would not remain a secret for long.
"Very well," he agreed, nodding curtly. "I will go see my parents."
He recognized the necessity of the meeting. Although the man known as Ye Changkong was a stranger to him, the grief that the patriarch had displayed over his coma was genuine.
"Please wait a moment," Qiu Lan stammered, flushing with haste. "I will make the arrangements immediately!"
She turned and sprinted from the room, her skirts fluttering behind her as she disappeared down the polished corridors.
The Ye Clan estate was an endless labyrinth of opulent gardens and towering spires; to travel it without the aid of a mount would have been an exercise in futility.
Moments later, Qiu Lan returned to the chamber, her chest heaving with exertion as she gestured toward the door.
"Young Master," she panted, "your transport is ready. We may depart."
"Lead the way."
Ye Yun was curious to see the nature of his transport; he had heard rumors of the extravagance accorded to the Clan's Young Master.
Leaving the chamber, the trio crossed the silent expanse of the gardens. The air was still, heavy with the scents of priceless flora, until they reached the Clan's stables.
There, four majestic creatures stood waiting.
They were Qilins—legendary beasts of fortune and strength—each scales shimmering like precious jewels under the distant sun. They were identical in form, carved from a single mold of grace and power.
Ye Changkong had gifted these mounts to his son years ago, choosing them when they were nothing more than hatchlings. In the time since, they had matured into awesome creatures of war.
Even at their current developmental stage, each Qilin possessed the strength of a King Realm cultivator; when they reached true maturity, their might would equal that of a Saint.
The quality of their bloodline was staggering. Ye Yun had spent hours training with them, appreciating their loyalty and sheer raw force.
The fire Qilin tossed its head and stamped the ground in greeting at the sight of him, its excitement sending a gust of searing heat whipping past.
The others matched its intensity, the air around them churning with unseen power as they strained against their tethers, desperate to reach him.
He walked toward them, a feeling of kinship stirred within him as he realized these beasts recognized him—not the soul or the mind, but the essence of his physical form.
Ye Yun reached out, stroking each of their necks with firm, slow motions. The creatures leaned into his touch, vibrating with a deep, contented purr beneath his hand.
Behind the four Qilins sat a carriage that defied common sense. It was an ornate masterpiece of gold and purple silk, floating effortlessly above the ground.