The grand halls of Nanjing Third Academy bustled with activity as students moved between lessons and sparring grounds. The morning sun bathed the white stone buildings in a golden hue, casting long shadows across the immaculate courtyard. The rhythmic clash of weapons rang through the air, accompanied by the low hum of cultivation techniques in practice.
Disciples in modern cultivation robes performed combat stances with unwavering focus, each move a reflection of discipline and skill. Along the edges of the courtyard, instructors barked corrections, their keen eyes catching the slightest imperfections.
Amidst the orderly chaos, the arrival of Wang Zeming sent ripples through the gathered students. The embroidered silver serpent of the Wang Family on his dark-blue robe marked him as a man of stature. Whispers followed him like an echo, tales of his achievements as a 2-star alchemist and the tragedy of his wife's inability to conceive.
Yet none dared to meet his gaze.
The academy staff, sensing the weight of his presence, hastened to greet him. A young attendant bowed deeply, leading Zeming without question toward the principal's chambers.
The chamber was modest, lined with tall shelves brimming with ancient scrolls and cultivation manuals. At the center of the room, Principal Huang Bao sat behind a mahogany desk, the scent of aged parchment lingering in the air.
The principal was a plump man, his silk robes bearing the academy's emblem. A rising sun over a flowing river. Despite his relaxed demeanor, his eyes gleamed with the sharpness of a man who had seen his share of cunning plots and failed ambitions.
"Master Wang," Huang Bao greeted recognizing him, bowing with practiced politeness. "To what do I owe the honor of your visit?"
"I'm here to meet with Yang Chen," Zeming stated without preamble. "My wife, Wang Xiuying, must have informed you about me. As an alchemist, I wish to speak with Yang Chen myself."
Huang Bao's expression barely shifted, though a flicker of curiosity stirred in his gaze. "I see. Young Yang Chen's martial spirit awakening was... unusual. The phenomenon has drawn much speculation. We are still investigating its nature."
"Unusual indeed," Zeming replied calmly. "But I have no intention of waiting for speculation to yield answers. I must speak with him directly."
The finality in his tone left no room for argument.
After a moment's pause, Huang Bao inclined his head. "Of course. Please follow me."
In the modest dormitory door creaked open as Huang Bao led Wang Zeming inside. Sunlight streamed through the narrow window, illuminating the sparse room. A wooden desk cluttered with scrolls, a small meditation mat, and a simple bed took up most of the space.
Yang Chen stood near the window, adjusting the folds of his dark robes. Despite the plain surroundings, his presence radiated a composed confidence. His sharp, clear eyes locked onto Zeming with an unsettling calm.
"Principal Huang," Yang Chen greeted with a respectful nod, his voice steady. "To what do I owe this visit?"
Zeming stepped forward, his scrutinizing gaze never leaving the young man. "Your teacher, Wang Xiuying, spoke of your claims. She said you possess knowledge of ancient methods that guarantee conception. I want to hear from you directly. I will determine whether your words hold any truth."
Yang Chen's lips twitched with the faintest trace of satisfaction. This was the opportunity he had carefully orchestrated. The Wang Family was among the most influential in Nanjing, and earning their favor would be a significant step on his path to power.
"I understand your doubts, Master Wang," Yang Chen replied smoothly. "But I assure you, my words are not empty. My martial spirit, the Supreme Emperor Yang, has granted me access to knowledge long forgotten."
Zeming's eyes narrowed. "Supreme Emperor Yang? There is no record of such a spirit in the association's database. A name of such grandeur, yet unheard of."
Yang Chen nodded. "Indeed. But the fragments of knowledge it has awakened within me are undeniable."
He suppressed a knowing smirk. 'The information itself is all made up. Even I can't see my martial spirit's details until I start cultivating and reach the Qi Refinement Realm.'
"I can explain the method in detail," Yang Chen continued, spreading his hands in an inviting gesture. "But understand that it may sound a little bit... unconventional."
Zeming's expression darkened. "Speak. But be warned, if your words are nothing but lies, I will know. As a 2-star alchemist, I am well-versed in detecting falsehoods. The consequences will be severe."
Yang Chen inclined his head. "I expect nothing less."
He paused, allowing the tension to linger. Every word had to be calculated.
"The technique requires a series of steps. First, I will need every 1-star alchemy herb, nothing rare, but of the finest quality. Each herb a single piece. My martial spirit will extract their medicinal properties and refine them within my body."
Zeming frowned. "And you expect me to believe you can do this without backlash?"
"Precisely," Yang Chen said calmly. "Unlike conventional methods, my martial spirit the Supreme Emperor Yang ensures perfect balance. No impurities. No harm to my body."
The disbelief on Zeming's face was evident, but Yang Chen pressed on.
"Once refined, the medicinal essence will concentrate within me, enhancing my vital seed by an estimated 99 percent. This enhanced seed, when released, will drastically increase the chances of conception even for those deemed unfertile and barren."
The words hung in the air, a dangerous promise.
"And then?" Zeming's voice was low.
"Then I will need to... fuck the woman who seeks to conceive," Yang Chen said without flinching. "The process must be repeated until the stored medicinal properties in me are depleted."
Hearing my words silence followed for a brief moment.
Principal Huang Bao's face paled. Zeming's hand twitched.
"Do you take me for a fool?" Zeming's voice was cold, each syllable laced with restrained fury.
"I do not," Yang Chen replied smoothly. "That is why I propose complete transparency. Every step except the use of my martial spirit will be conducted under the supervision of alchemists to ensure safety and legitimacy."
His unwavering gaze met Zeming's. "I know no sane man would willingly see his wife with another. But desperation breeds necessity. You, as an alchemist, understand how cultivation often makes conception near impossible. I offer a solution one that no other can."
Zeming's fists clenched. Years of failure, ridicule, and whispered mockery from the noble families flashed through his mind. His wife's silent suffering haunted him.
"If your words are false....." he paused.
"I will accept any consequence you deem fit," Yang Chen interrupted. "But if I succeed, the Wang Family will owe me a favor no one could dispute."
A tense silence followed.
Zeming's jaw tightened. The hope in his eyes was undeniable. "Very well. I will gather the herbs you require. But understand this my patience is thin. If I detect even a hint of deception, you will suffer the consequences."
Yang Chen bowed. "I understand, Master Wang."
"Good," Zeming growled. "Expect my summons tomorrow."
"I'll ensure everything is ready," Yang Chen said with a respectful nod. "But do keep in mind, my time is limited. My master may arrive soon to take me back to her sect. I don't know when I will return to Nanjing."
Zeming's lips pressed into a thin line. "Then let us waste no time."
Without another word, he turned and left.
As the door closed, a slow grin spread across Yang Chen's face. The seeds had been planted. Now, all he needed was patience.
"The game has begun."