Then little Xue, her eyes wide with childlike wonder and innocent frustration, pierced the heavy mood with a simple, weighty question.
—"Can someone tell me what his secret is for vanishing like that?"—she asked, her voice a blend of curiosity and a longing for answers.
Her guileless words echoed through the hall, a reminder that amid the riddles and strife, there remained room for the purity of wonder—and the hope that one day, the mysteries of the man who tread the shadows of fate might be unveiled.
"That's the least relevant question right now, Xue," Yang Ning remarked, his voice deep and analytical as he stroked his long silver beard. His eyes searched the faces around him, seeking the same unease that echoed in his thoughts. "Perhaps it's some spatial exchange technique. But what truly intrigues me is whether all of that was real. I mean... can he really heal almost anything? Granting someone a thousand years of life... Not even the most powerful techniques we know can achieve such a feat! Granting even a single year would be extraordinary, but a thousand?"
For a moment, silence reigned in the room. Each of Yang Ning's words seemed to seep into the minds of those present, leaving a trail of unanswered questions and an air as heavy as fate itself.
Then Yang Mei, her voice always laden with reflection, broke the stillness:
"And how did he manage to cure that poison?" she said, disbelief threading through every syllable. "We're talking about the Corpse Devouring Poison, which, as far as we know, is incurable!"
Everyone nodded, sharing the astonishment. Yang Mei continued, her tone a mix of fascination and apprehension:
"If it weren't for the restrictions of this poison—that it doesn't affect those in the Superior Saint Domain or above—it would have been banned long ago, classified as one of the forbidden poisons. The only reason it still exists is that loophole, but even so, it was nearly eradicated for its lethality. And now... it just... vanished?"
At that moment, Yang Lan, the daughter of the second concubine, joined the conversation. Her voice blended fascination and uncertainty:
"And that golden water? What was that?" She hesitated, choosing her words with care. "Was it a technique? Or something more? How did it completely purify Elowen's body? I saw it with my own eyes: she was disfigured, her body ravaged by the poison. But after that water... she looked..."
Her gaze drifted, and the sentence hung unfinished, as if time itself had paused to listen to what she was trying to express. It was Yang Ning who, with a tone of almost inescapable surprise, finished for her:
"...More beautiful and youthful than ever." He shook his head in disbelief. "Her skin was so perfect it scarcely knew the meaning of 'imperfection.'"
Lan, still visibly shaken by the transformation she had witnessed, murmured:
"And the energy of that golden water... It was so pure, so... so..." She stopped, clutching her dress as if the emotion itself had overtaken her.
"Divine, perhaps?" Yang Mei ventured, the word lingering in the air like an attempt to grasp the inexplicable.
Once again, silence imposed itself. The word "divine" seemed insufficient, but in that moment, there was no other term that could capture the essence of what they had all witnessed.
Little Xue, with the innocence only childhood possesses, tugged at Yang Mei's sleeve. Her wide, curious eyes reflected an unease that contrasted with the adults' solemnity.
"But can he do this all the time? Cure incurable poisons, grant life..." Her voice wavered for a moment, laden with hope and fear. "Or was it just luck?"
For a brief instant, Yang Mei hesitated. Her gaze drifted into deep thought as doubt hung in the air. Deep down, no one there had definitive answers.
Nael is a mystery, an anomaly that defies everything we know, she thought, unable to translate into words the magnitude of the enigma he represented.
And so, amidst glances and murmurs, the truth seemed to hide in the spaces between each question, while Nael's legacy spread like a whisper amid the uncertainty of an unraveling fate.
"Perhaps, in the end, it's not luck. Perhaps it's simply him," Yang Mei said, her gaze distant, lost in a sea of memories and enigmas.
Eyes met across the room. Little Xue, with her wide, curious gaze, broke the silence:
"Him who?"
Yang Mei sighed, as if the weight of time rested on her shoulders:
"Nael. He doesn't adhere to our rules or the limitations we've created for ourselves. I don't know what he is, but I know one thing: we can't judge him by ordinary standards."
As her words spread, each soul in the room felt the weight of a reality that defied all logic. Nael was not a subject for simple analysis or obvious predictions. He was an untamable force, an enigma that, even without being fully understood, inspired both fear and fascination.
The atmosphere remained charged, filled with discussions about the impossible feats he had just performed. It was then that Yang Ning, known for her sharp tongue and cutting humor, decided to break the mood with an unexpected provocation:
"So, Xia Xiang..." Yang Ning began, a smile playing on her lips as her eyes sparkled with mischief. "You, who always said Yang Ming possessed extraordinary healing abilities, how does he compare to this? Has Nael finally found a worthy rival?"
The tone, light and playful, concealed a calculated intent to provoke reactions. Yang Ning's lips shaped sharp words, while the room grew tense with an almost palpable strain.
Xia Xiang looked visibly uncomfortable. Her naturally pale face flushed deeply. She narrowed her eyes, brimming with indignation:
"No!" she replied firmly, her voice laden with defiance. "Don't you dare compare them! Yang Ming is a unique talent. His primary physique, the Primordial Chaos, makes him infinitely more powerful in combat. The healing he performs is merely secondary support!"
Xia Xiang finished with an audible sigh, her arms crossed in a protective gesture, as if to bar any further discussion on the matter.
Yang Ning, in turn, tilted her head in a feigned gesture of consideration, arching an eyebrow with irony:
"Hah... Of course, of course." Her light laughter didn't hide the incisive tone. "So, with all that primordial chaos and support physique, he's still incapable of doing anything even remotely close to what we saw here today?"
The provocation hung in the air as Xia Xiang took a step forward, her eyes blazing with barely contained anger:
"Yang Ning, don't you dare belittle Yang Ming's power just because you're fascinated by what Nael did! One has nothing to do with the other!"
Each word sounded like a drop of water feeding a current of tension. Even the more restrained onlookers seemed hypnotized by the exchange of barbs. In every gesture, in every glance, lay the unspoken truth: Xia Xiang harbored a deep admiration for Yang Ming, something beyond mere respect, and any insinuation of his shortcomings was like striking a match in a dry field.
At the heart of that whirlwind of emotions, silence reigned once more, dense and laden with meaning. Will we ever understand the immensity of this power? someone thought, not daring to break the moment.
And so, amidst provocations and veiled challenges, Nael's legacy endured—a mystery that, with every step and every breath, defied the limits of the possible and rekindled the flames of hope, fear, and curiosity in every soul present.
"Enough," Yang Mei interjected, her voice grave and cutting like a sharp blade. As her weary eyes swept the room, she continued:
"Let's not turn this into a childish dispute. What happened today is unprecedented. Comparing Nael to Yang Ming or anyone else is a waste of time."
Yang Mei shrugged, satisfied at having provoked Xia Xiang but determined to end the conflict. Gradually, Xia Xiang took a deep breath and stepped back, still flushed with irritation but aware that pressing further would only escalate the tension.
The silence that followed was filled with heavy thoughts. Each person there sought to understand where Nael truly fit into a world he seemed to reinvent. He was a man who defied logic, ignored boundaries, and transcended known concepts of physique or technique. And deep down, everyone wondered: just how far can Nael really go?
Elowen, her face slightly pale but projecting strength, rose to her feet. Her eyes, however, met Xia Xiang's, who wore a firm yet sarcastic gaze. There was a subtle tension between them, tempered by an understanding that lurked behind unspoken words.
"And you, you finally got what you wanted," Xia Xiang said, her voice soft but laden with meaning, as if each word were a small accusation.
Elowen frowned, confused by the implication.
"What do you mean?" she asked, trying to decipher what lay behind Xia Xiang's tone.
The other crossed her arms slowly, studying Elowen with a gaze that seemed to unravel every hidden thought.
"You refused to let Yang Ming rebuild your talent because you already knew you could manipulate Yang Fei to connect with him and thus achieve something greater—a superior physique." The last word came out with a slight touch of disdain, as if that lesser title didn't even deserve mention.
Elowen clenched her fists, her blood simmering silently. She didn't even dare utter his real name? she thought but kept her composure steady.
"His name is Nael," she replied with precision, each word laden with firmness. "And if you think I'm manipulating him..." She hesitated for a brief moment as emotions slowly formed, "please, don't underestimate what he is."
Xia Xiang observed her with a cynical smile, as if she had already anticipated every reaction.
"Yes," she continued, her voice slightly indifferent. "After all, he only awakened his consciousness less than two months ago. And he has a powerful family behind him."
Elowen remained silent for a moment, her eyes fixed on the floor as Xia Xiang's words echoed in her mind. Memories of her desperate attempt to reach Nael—to convince him to rebuild her talent—flooded her like a wave of painful emotions. I almost didn't make it... crossed her thoughts.
Then, with a tone that blended lightness and incisiveness, Elowen retorted:
"Are you blind? Didn't you see I almost died trying to convince him? If you think it's so easy, why don't you try?"
Her words hung in the air like a gauntlet thrown to the ground. Xia Xiang didn't back down. On the contrary, her smile widened, pleased with the challenge.
"The one you're talking about can read a person with just a glance. He's an overthinker, almost paranoid. Do you really think it's simple to deceive him?" she said, laughing lightly. Yet that laughter brought no peace; it only confirmed the challenge of facing someone like Nael.
In the whirlwind of feelings, amidst provocations and revelations, the truth remained shrouded in mystery. Every word, every silence, revealed that no matter how much they tried to measure or understand, Nael was something beyond common comprehension—a living enigma destined to challenge limits and rewrite the fate of all around him.
Elowen gazed at Xia Xiang with a serious expression, her eyes gleaming with silent determination.
"And thank you," she said, her voice soft but laden with meaning. "If it weren't for you, none of this would have happened."
She paused, taking a deep breath before continuing, her tone firm and enigmatic:
"And please, stop calling him Yang Fei. Start calling him Nael, or things will get ugly between you two. It's advice from a friend. He has no patience for false nicknames."
Xia Xiang raised an eyebrow, surprised by the seriousness in Elowen's voice. The subtle glint in her eyes suggested there was much more behind those words than she had imagined. In the silence that settled between them, Xia Xiang realized she could no longer ignore the depth of the bond uniting Elowen and Nael—something that, even if she didn't fully understand it yet, deserved all her respect.
The young woman leaned against the wall, her body still weakened from the internal battle against the poison. Her eyes swept the room before turning back, with a mix of exhaustion and determination, to those present:
"And is there anyone here who can offer me a place to spend the night?"
Her voice, calm and commanding, demanded a response. A brief silence filled the room as glances met, uncertain. Then Yang Mei broke the mood:
"I can."
Almost simultaneously, Yang Lin stepped forward:
"I can too."
The two exchanged challenging looks, as if competing for an invisible spot. Before anyone could intervene, the fourth elder, with a trembling voice and hands raised in a gesture of haste, murmured:
"Well... I... can also offer..."
Noticing the incredulous stares now piercing him, the man blushed intensely—a flush resembling glowing embers.
"I just wanted to be polite! Nothing more!"
Elowen rolled her eyes, letting out a weary sigh.
"I'll go with you," she declared, pointing directly at Yang Mei, her voice firm and unyielding, closing off any possibility of protest.
Yang Lin huffed in discontent but didn't insist. The subtle competition ended there, with Yang Mei displaying a smile that blended triumph and pride.
Before they left, Elowen turned her gaze to Xia Xiang, who remained leaning against a pillar, watching with her usual cold expression.
"Hah... I almost forgot," she said, crossing her arms and looking directly at her. "I owe you one, so you can ask for a favor one of these days."
Xia Xiang raised an eyebrow, surprised by the sudden declaration.
"A favor?" she repeated, her tone laced with curiosity.
Elowen nodded, her eyes steady as steel.
"If you hadn't bet with me, bringing me here in exchange for my life, I probably wouldn't be here now," she said with calculated neutrality, showing neither anger nor resentment, just the raw truth.
For an instant, the room plunged into silence, the air thick with unexpected gratitude. Xia Xiang tilted her head, visibly irritated at feeling challenged.
"I don't need your favors," she replied, her voice curt and dry, laden with disdain.
Elowen didn't respond; she simply turned her back, ending the conversation with the coldness of someone who no longer had interest in arguing.
Soon, Yang Mei stepped forward, leading the way out of the room, while the echoes of that encounter lingered, intense and unsettling, among those present.
"Let's go. You need to rest," Yang Mei said, her tone gentle yet authoritative.
Elowen followed behind her, bearing the weight of gazes that seemed to mark her every step. Gradually, the atmosphere in the room dissolved like mist under the morning light. But the words she had left behind echoed, leaving a silent scar: a reminder that even in the struggle for survival, there is always a price to pay and lessons that fate insists on teaching.