The old man's gaze, cold and sharp as winter ice, swept over Mu Yan. "Young Master, forgive this old man's tardiness. I will immediately capture this impudent boy. You can torture him to your heart's content later."
Mu Yan, despite the chilling pressure, mustered a mocking sneer. He knew the precariousness of his situation, yet defiance was his only way to delay precious few moments. "When the young one is defeated, an old man crawls out of the woodwork. Is this the esteemed face of the Yang Clan? If you are beaten, would even a shriveled corpse jump out of its grave to interfere?" He spoke, buying precious moments, his mind racing, already preparing to unleash a forbidden technique if forced. If he were alone, he could easily vanish and bide his time.
The old man's sneer deepened, a flicker of amusement in his eyes at Mu Yan's supposed fearlessness. "Know your place, boy. Kneel and apologize to the Young Master, and he might just leave you alive if you swear a blood oath to be loyal to him forever."
Mu Yan clenched his fists, ready to fight it out with this old man—but then, a firm yet gentle hand settled on his shoulder. It was Qin Ying's.
"Don't," she whispered, her voice carrying an unexpected authority, her eyes locking onto his. "Let me handle this."
Reluctantly, Mu Yan stood down. He knew she was stronger, and using another forbidden technique would leave him utterly helpless for a considerable time. In this unknown and dangerous place, caution was paramount. But deep inside, he knew this encounter was far from over. There were many more challenges ahead, and he couldn't depend on Qin Ying to solve them all. He had to grow stronger; only then would he be truly worthy of standing beside her.
Qin Ying stepped forward, her delicate form radiating an otherworldly grace. The transformation was instant - her aura shifted from that of a pure maiden to something far more terrifying. The very air around her crackled with unseen power, her presence expanding like a storm.
"I can forgive you once," she declared, her voice carrying an edge sharp enough to cut steel. "Take your young master and leave. Now."
The old man's weathered face cracked into a condescending laugh. "Youngsters nowadays are too wild. Let me teach you a lesson on behalf of your parents—"
"Don't blame me, then. I warned you." Qin Ying's words fell like autumn frost.
Her aura exploded outward, a maelstrom of pure power that focused its crushing weight on the Third Elder. The old man's face twisted in horror as he found himself frozen in place, trapped by an invisible force that seemed to pierce through his very essence.
Mu Yan watched from behind, his breath caught in his throat. Even though her aura wasn't directed at him, its magnitude sent shivers down his spine. The raw power she commanded dwarfed anything he had imagined, even in his past life as a Lin Clan prodigy. A smile tugged at his lips - her background might surpass even the mighty Lin Clan, but it didn't matter. His eyes were set on the peak of all realms and beyond; everything else was merely a stepping stone.
"Who... who are you?" The Third Elder's voice quavered, fear stripping away his previous arrogance.
Qin Ying's response dripped with disdain. "You're not worthy to know. Do you still wish to pursue this matter?"
"No, no! We were mistaken!" The Elder's composure shattered completely. He frantically signaled to Yang Yutian, who, despite his lecherous nature, recognized when he was hopelessly outmatched.
Yang Yutian kowtowed, his forehead touching the ground. "Please forgive our rudeness, honored mistress!"
Qin Ying retracted her overwhelming presence, releasing them from its grip. "Go. If you ever trouble him again, there won't be a second chance."
The pair fled like scattered leaves in a storm, not even sparing a glance for their unconscious underlings scattered across the ground.
Through the winding streets of the city, Yang Yutian and the Third Elder fled with desperate haste, their robes fluttering wildly as they rushed toward Yang Manor Hall. The grand structure loomed before them, its imposing architecture a testament to the clan's prominence. Inside, the air was thick with incense and the subtle vibrations of spiritual energy as numerous elders sat in ornate chairs along both sides of the hall.
At the head of the assembly, upon an intricately carved throne of dark wood inlaid with spirit stones, sat Yang Shen. His mustached face remained impassive as he listened to reports, the very air around him rippling with the unmistakable pressure of a Nascent stage cultivator. The sudden burst of the doors drew every eye as Yang Yutian and the Third Elder stumbled in, their faces ashen and clothes drenched in cold sweat.
First Elder Yang Shoren, his white beard quivering with concern, leaned forward on his seat. "Third Elder, Fourth Young Master, what calamity drives you to such unseemly haste?"
The Third Elder's hands trembled as he steadied himself against a pillar, his breath coming in ragged gasps. When he finally spoke, his voice carried the lingering echo of terror. "We encountered... something terrifying."
As he recounted their encounter, the temperature in the hall seemed to drop with each word. Yang Shoren's eyes narrowed. "You claim you couldn't move under her pressure? You, a Core condensation realm expert?"
"Senior Brother," the Third Elder's voice cracked, "her aura... it was like being crushed beneath the weight of the mountain and gazed by a noble being. Even our Clan Leader's presence pales in comparison. Only the ancient monster of the Patil family might match such terrifying might."
A heavy silence fell over the hall. Yang Shen's fingers drummed against his armrest, each tap releasing a minute pulse of spiritual energy. "Leave the boy be," he commanded, his voice echoing in hall. "We have greater concerns that require our attention."
Yang Yutian stood rigid, his fingernails drawing blood from his palms as rage and humiliation warred within him. But one look at his father's stern visage, lined with the gravity, was enough to still his thoughts of revenge.
"Yutian," Yang Shen's voice softened marginally, "withdraw for now. The clan faces crucial matters - do not add to our troubles." The young master could only bow stiffly before departing, his pride a bitter taste in his mouth.
Meanwhile, across the city, Mu Yan walked beside Qin Ying, stealing glances at her serene profile. The rescued girl followed quietly behind them as they made their way back to the inn, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the cobblestone streets.
"We should have ended them," Mu Yan murmured, his voice carrying both admiration and frustration. "Why show mercy?"
Qin Ying's eyes flickered as she responded, "The shadows have eyes, Mu Yan. Their deaths would have drawn attention you cannot afford now. Soon I will not be there to sheild you." Her words carried both warning and concern, making Mu Yan's heart constrict with complex emotions.
As they walked, Mu Yan felt the weight of his current weakness pressing down on him. Yet beneath that weight, his determination burned even brighter.