190: Not a chess piece, but a chess player

"Middle Thousand Province?!"

When Jiang Yan heard these three words, his eyes suddenly lit up, and he blurted out, almost without thinking, "Yes!"

His answer was so quick, without a trace of hesitation, as if he had already shouted it a thousand times in his heart.

The moment his words fell, a long-sealed memory surged into his mind.

He had no mother since childhood, which, in the small village, made him the "bastard" in the mouths of other children, enduring countless cold glares and bullying.

Whenever he was pushed into the mud, he could only clench his fists tightly, forcing his tears back.

It wasn't until he was ten years old that his usually silent, alcohol-drowning father, in a drunken haze, stroked his head and revealed a secret buried deep in his heart.

"Yan'er, it's come to this, I won't hide it from you anymore."

"Your mother is still alive, but she doesn't belong here. She's from a great Family in the Upper Realm; she was forcibly taken away back then. They said a Mortal from the Lower Realm like me would only defile their Family's Bloodline..."

"It's all my fault for being useless; I couldn't protect her."

The story of a Young Miss from the Upper Realm traveling to the Lower Realm, falling in love with a Mortal from the Lower Realm, and then being cruelly separated.

Jiang Yan had read many such stories, but when the story became his own background, he felt a chilling coldness to the bone and an indescribable absurdity.

It turned out that the two light words "separated" in books carried such weight when they fell upon him.

From that moment on, Jiang Yan swore to the starry sky in his heart that one day, he would step onto that land, find his mother, and truly reunite his Family!

He had thought this path would be long and arduous, requiring him to expend all his life's energy to climb.

Yet, he never expected that this longed-for opportunity would appear before him so abruptly, in such an unexpected way!

Thinking of this.

Jiang Yan's gaze towards Qin Wangchuan was filled with uncontrollable excitement and longing.

Of course.

He wasn't the only one excited.

Tao Ziyan leaned against the edge of the square; the sharp pain in her leg and her previous despair seemed to have vanished.

She stared blankly at the ruins, her heart still trembling violently from that world-destroying palm strike—that was the instinctive fear when facing a great power from the Upper Realm.

Then came a shock!

That girl with white gauze covering her eyes, seemingly the same age as herself, was like a deity wielding judgment, crushing the arrogant Upper Realm Crown Prince in the most primal and violent way.

However, at this moment, her focus was not on this; another, stronger emotion surged in her heart.

Her gaze, seemingly unintentional, finally landed on the young man in green, and her breath caught.

Yes, how could she not have noticed the person she couldn't take her eyes off?

He stood casually in the center of the ruins, his coarse linen clothes unstained by dust.

Tao Ziyan had never seen such a contradictory person—so close, yet seemingly high above the Nine Heavens.

He was breathtakingly handsome, yet his pale golden pupils held a detached gaze that overlooked all living beings.

Unlike when he faced Xiao Dantain earlier.

A strange stirring quietly spread.

Who... exactly was he?

...Three days passed in a flash.

Although the Upper Realm Crown Prince had died, strangely, no one came to investigate.

Thinking of this, Qin Wangchuan, the 'regicide,' became even more unapproachable in everyone's eyes.

He was directly treated as an honored guest and served well.

Within the Cloud Gazing Pavilion, perched on a cliff in Biluo Holy Land.

This was the highest point of the entire Holy Land, overlooking everything.

The morning light, faint and soft, filtered through the intricately carved wooden window, casting dappled, serene light and shadow.

Qin Wangchuan leaned casually on the soft couch by the window, his posture relaxed and elegant.

He wore a simple, unadorned green robe, a stark contrast to the circulating rumors of him deciding life and death with a laugh.

One hand held a yellowed ancient book, his gaze calmly sweeping over the ink marks on it;

The other hand hung loosely by his side, his long fingers idly stroking the soft down of Chouchou, who was curled up napping on his lap.

Its small head rested on Qin Wangchuan's leg, sleeping very soundly.

Sunlight streamed through the window lattice, making its red feathers shimmer.

Its tiny body rose and fell slightly with its breathing, occasionally letting out a faint, contented "purr," which was exceptionally clear in the quiet pavilion.

Not far away, by a sandalwood zither table, Ye Jianwei sat as still as a lotus flower.

Today she did not cover her eyes with white gauze; instead, her eyelids were slightly lowered, focused on the seven-stringed zither beneath her hands.

Her slender, jade-like fingers gently plucked and strummed, and clear, ethereal zither music flowed out like a mountain spring.

The zither music was neither rushed nor slow, perfectly integrated with the scene of clouds rolling and unfurling outside the pavilion.

What a serene and ethereal painting.

No one who saw it would believe that this young man could decide the Crown Prince's life or death with a single word.

Nor that this young girl could stomp an eighth-Rank expert to death.

Outside the pavilion, Jiang Yan had stood on the corridor for a long time.

The young man clenched his palm, which was slightly sweaty from carrying heavy books.

He had never imagined that there could truly be someone in the world so beautiful, like an immortal in a painting or a scene in a poem, that one would fear even a slightly heavy breath might disturb this tranquility, causing it to dissipate like a bubble.

Finally, he mustered his courage, lightened his footsteps, and almost tiptoed into the room.

The air was filled with a faint scent of old books and ink, elegant zither melodies, and a subtle, almost imperceptible fragrance from the Young Miss.

He walked to the central rosewood table, and with extreme care, trying not to make too much noise, gently placed the thick stack of Cultivation Technique scrolls and copied texts he was carrying.

The books made only a faint, almost inaudible "thud" as they touched the tabletop.

"Big Brother..." Jiang Yan lowered his voice, with obvious respect.

After interacting with him, he found that Qing Wangchuan was not pretentious and acted like an experienced elder brother.

So he simply called him Big Brother.

Qin Wangchuan did not object.

For these three days, he had continuously sent him copies of Cultivation Techniques from his own Holy Land and surrounding Holy Lands.

"These are the core Cultivation Technique of Biluo Holy Land, the 'Biluo Heart Scripture,' and copies of famous Cultivation Techniques from the surrounding three Holy Lands: Scarlet Flame, Profound Water, and Thick Earth. All that could be found are here."

Report completed.

Jiang Yan's gaze was first firmly caught by a wisp of misty, watery Dao Profound Truth swirling around Qin Wangchuan's fingers, then it fell to the ancient book in his hand.

"Biluo Cloud Art"!

He would never mistake it; this was one of Biluo Holy Land's foundational Cultivation Techniques.

It was of Earth Rank Advanced in the Heaven, Earth, Profound, Yellow Ranks, only accessible to core true disciples.

But this copied text, he had personally delivered it this very morning... How could it have been comprehended to the point of manifesting Dao Profound Truth in such a short time?

At this thought, strong curiosity drove him to ask softly:

"Big Brother, are you... looking for a specific Cultivation Technique? Maybe I can help you!"

Qin Wangchuan closed the book in his hand but did not answer immediately.

His fingertips unconsciously traced the soft down behind Chouchou's ear; the little one comfortably rubbed against his palm in its sleep.

First, he closed his eyes in thought, his long, thick eyelashes casting faint shadows beneath his eyes, as if he were deducing and assimilating the Profound Truths of the myriad techniques he had just perused in his Sea of Consciousness.

After a moment, Qin Wangchuan slowly opened his eyes, his pale golden pupils looking at Jiang Yan, clear and profound.

"No."

His voice was calm, yet it wasn't an answer to anyone, but rather like he was conversing with himself.

"I peruse all schools, not to seek, nor to follow."

"All the myriad techniques under heaven are not my Dao. What I want is to smelt all techniques and forge a unique path of my own."