Chapter 1: The Wind Rises and the Green Duckweed

Ye Chen sat beneath the Old Scholar Tree in his small courtyard, his fingertips brushing over the cool surface of the Stone Table.

On the tabletop, a single green Bamboo Leaf lay quietly, with a droplet of Morning Dew poised on its vein, trembling on the verge of falling.

The morning dew slid slowly along the Bamboo Leaf’s veins, finally hanging from the tip—crystal clear, reflecting a small, blue patch of sky.

His life was like this drop of dew.

A year ago, it was reflected into another sky.

efore that, he was Ye Chen, an unremarkable collateral member of the Ye Family in Qingyang City.

With average talent and orphaned parents, he grew up silently, breathing quietly within the vast clan.

His world was small—so small it consisted only of this courtyard and a few shafts of sunlight.

Until a certain afternoon a year ago, also beneath this Scholar Tree.

He sat in meditation, his spirit entering an unprecedented stillness.

And at that moment, a crack quietly opened in the Sea of Consciousness of his silent soul.

A Memory Fragment—grand and vast—merged into him without a sound.

In that memory, there was no name, only a title—Sword Sovereign of Primordium.

In that memory, there was the birth and death of the Milky Way, the collapse of the Universe, and a solitary figure walking with a sword at the end of the Long River of Time.

He remembered.

It was his previous life.

From that day on, Ye Chen was still Ye Chen.

But the way he viewed the world changed completely.

The clan Elders he once respected now seemed childish in words and actions.

The Lingqi Breathing he once longed for now tasted like savoring a single drop of dew—slow and… interesting.

In his eyes, all things displayed strange patterns woven from countless subtle laws.

He could spend an entire day observing how a leaf withered, how a breeze passed through the courtyard.

This was more peaceful than any earth-shattering battle in that vast memory.

That memory was too immense and too incomplete.

He only received a small fragment—a ‘perspective.’

A perspective from the peak of eternity, gazing back at the tiny mortal world.

He was still the Ye Family youth with average talent.

Only the trajectory of Destiny had quietly shifted.

“Dong, dong, dong.”

The courtyard gate was lightly knocked, interrupting Ye Chen’s thoughts.

He raised his eyes.

At that moment, the drop of dew at the tip of the leaf fell silently, spreading a small wet mark on the Stone Table.

“Young Master Ye Chen, are you home?”

Steward Liu San’s slightly impatient voice came from outside.

Ye Chen didn’t rise.

He simply answered calmly, “I’m here.”

The courtyard door creaked open.

Steward Liu San didn’t even glance at Ye Chen beneath the tree, his tone official and perfunctory.

“Family Elder meeting— all disciples in the clan are to proceed immediately to the Family Meeting Hall. No mistakes allowed!”

With that, he turned and left, footsteps hurried, as if lingering here was a waste of time.

For this ‘transparent person’ almost forgotten by the clan, he didn’t even have the interest for another word.

Ye Chen remained seated, his gaze returning to the wet mark.

Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting scattered light, while the moisture evaporated and faded before his eyes.

“A family meeting…”

He murmured softly, his tone void of emotion.

For a year, no one had thought of him in such clan-wide meetings.

Today, it was truly rare.

He slowly stood, brushing imaginary dust from his plain robe.

His figure was slender and tall, his features excessively handsome, especially his eyes—clear and deep.

Well, going to see wouldn’t hurt—just to… ease the boredom.

—

Ye Family Meeting Hall.

The atmosphere was so solemn it was stifling.

Sunlight streamed through carved windows, casting mottled patterns on the stone floor, dust swirling in the shafts of light.

In the main seat sat the Family Head, Ye Nantian.

Below, stern-faced clan Elders lined either side.

At the center of the hall stood a youth dressed in ornate robes, his expression proud and tinged with an enduring sharpness and impatience between his brows.

He was the Ye Family’s most dazzling genius—the Chief Disciple, Ye Tianjiao.

“…That’s the situation.”

An Elder said heavily.

“News from the Xiao Family. Xiao Liuli’s Nine Nether Cold Fiend has completely invaded her Spiritual Vein—her Cultivation is destroyed. She’s no different from a mortal.”

“The Upper Sect Envoy will arrive in Qingyang City in three months. Tianjiao is a once-in-a-century prodigy for our Ye Family—his immortal path must not be hindered by a Marriage Contract long since dead in all but name!”

When his words ended, the hall was silent.

Everyone’s gaze was fixed on Ye Tianjiao.

Ye Tianjiao snorted coldly, his voice thick with undisguised disgust.

“My wife, Ye Tianjiao’s wife, will surely be a celestial maiden who soars among the heavens—not some crippled, ugly Waste too ashamed to show her face!”

“I do not accept this marriage!”

The words ‘ugly’ were pronounced with biting clarity, dripping contempt.

Family Head Ye Nantian’s brows furrowed but he did not refute.

This marriage was once a powerful alliance, but now it had become a burden and a joke for the Ye Family.

After Xiao Liuli was poisoned, she wore a heavy Black Iron Mask, and with the slander of the Xiao Family’s rivals, rumors spread.

In time, all of Qingyang City said the Xiao Family’s young miss was not only a Waste, but her appearance had also been ruined beyond recognition.

“But… the Marriage Contract with the Xiao Family was set by the Grand Elder…”

One Elder hesitated.

“Times have changed!”

Another Elder immediately countered.

“For Tianjiao’s future, for the Ye Family’s future, what does a little pride matter? Just annul the marriage. The Xiao Family can barely protect themselves—would they dare turn against us?”

“Unacceptable!”

Ye Nantian finally spoke, his voice steady.

“Annulment would harm the Ye Family’s reputation. The Ye Family cannot go back on its word.”

Ye Tianjiao’s face grew uglier.

“So Father means you want me to marry that Waste?”

“Of course not.”

A glint of cunning flashed in Ye Nantian’s eyes.

He looked around the hall and spoke slowly.

“The Marriage Contract is between the Ye and Xiao Families—but it does not specify you, Ye Tianjiao. Our Ye Family does not have only one disciple.”

At these words, the Elders first froze, then realized.

Of course—replace the plum with the peach!

At that moment, a figure appeared at the hall’s entrance.

Sunlight outlined a slender silhouette behind him.

He entered with steady steps—unhurried, as if simply passing by after a meal.

All eyes snapped to him.

It was Ye Chen.

He ignored the stares—curious, judging, or disdainful—and calmly stood in an unobtrusive corner, as if none of this concerned him.

“Ye Chen?”

Ye Nantian looked at this collateral youth he barely remembered, surprised, then the corners of his mouth curled upward.

Truly, when you’re sleepy, someone sends you a pillow.

Average talent, orphaned, alone, withdrawn… No one could be more suitable.

Ye Nantian cleared his throat, his authoritative voice echoing in the hall.

“Ye Chen, you were summoned today for a tremendous opportunity.”

He paused, glancing at the flicker of satisfaction in Ye Tianjiao’s eyes and the knowing looks among the Elders.

He imagined the youth’s shock, gratitude, perhaps even tears of joy.

“By unanimous decision of the Elder Council, the Marriage Contract originally belonging to Ye Tianjiao and the Xiao Family’s eldest daughter, Xiao Liuli, will be transferred to you.”

“From today forward, you are the Ye Family’s future son-in-law and Xiao Liuli’s fiancé.”

The hall fell silent enough to hear a pin drop.

Everyone stared at Ye Chen, waiting for his reaction.

Ye Tianjiao’s lips curled with mockery, as if already envisioning Ye Chen’s ecstatic, groveling gratitude.

But Ye Chen only stood quietly, his long lashes trembling.

He seemed to be thinking—or perhaps simply lost in thought.

After three whole breaths, as impatience grew, he finally raised his head.

Those clear eyes met Ye Nantian’s, unruffled.

Then, before everyone, he softly yawned.

“Oh. Got it.”

His voice was light, carrying a lazy air as if just waking up.

“If there’s nothing else, I’ll go back to my meditation.”

With that, he actually turned and walked out of the hall—utterly without reluctance.

The entire Family Meeting Hall was dead silent.

Everyone seemed frozen, staring at the slowly retreating figure.

This… What kind of reaction was that?

No wild joy, no fear, not even a ripple of emotion?

As if he’d just heard ‘the weather’s nice today.’

The ridicule on Ye Tianjiao’s face froze.

This extreme indifference made him feel utterly ignored.

He was the Ye Family’s greatest genius in a century—when had he ever been treated like this?

“Stop!”

A shout, heavy with suppressed rage, exploded in the hall.

Ye Tianjiao’s figure blurred, instantly blocking Ye Chen’s path, his aura as sharp as a drawn sword.

The power of a Qi Refinement Seventh Layer surged around him, whipping Ye Chen’s plain robe.

“What kind of attitude is this?”

Ye Tianjiao’s eyes burned, fixed on Ye Chen’s excessively calm face.

“The clan grants you such ‘fortune,’ and this is how you repay them? No respect for your Elders?!”

His voice was loud, brimming with accusation and humiliation.

He wanted to see fear, regret, at least some awe.

Ye Chen, blocked, finally halted.

He looked up at the furious Ye Tianjiao.

His gaze was unruffled—if anything, puzzled.

As if wondering why this person was so agitated.

“Haven’t I already said I understood?”

Ye Chen tilted his head slightly, his tone flat, as if stating a fact.

This indifferent reply was sharper than any argument.

“You—!”

Ye Tianjiao almost choked, his face turning purple.

Understood? Just ‘understood’?

The Elders exchanged glances.

For the first time, they realized they couldn’t see through this usually invisible collateral youth.

The calmness radiating from his bones didn’t feel fake.

But for a boy of average talent, where did such confidence come from?

On the main seat, Family Head Ye Nantian’s controlling smile faded for the first time.

His eyes narrowed, hawk-sharp, scrutinizing Ye Chen for any flaw.

But there was nothing.

Ye Chen simply stood there, letting Ye Tianjiao’s pressure crash against him—steady as the Old Scholar Tree in the courtyard.

His gaze even drifted past the furious Ye Tianjiao, settling on a single speck of dust swirling in the sunlight beyond the window.