1 Prologue

Yang Qing wore a yellow silken robe. His hair white, and tied into a makeshift knot, looked all wrong and entirely inappropriate, but he was out of time. The ceremony would start soon. Yang Qing gazed at his robes one last time in the mirror. It was uncomfortable, to say the least. He much preferred the cultivator's code of informal clothing - anything that covered his body was fine, even during fighting, though armor was preferred then. But, his mother would have wanted him to wear the robe, his father did and his father's father did as well. It was tradition, and he saw no reason fit to break it. At least, the slight discomfort couldn't warrant it.

Yang Qing walked down the long wooden halls into the Qing's family's ancestral hall. It wasn't as grand as the ancestral land where he started his cultivation journey, but it was sacred nonetheless. It was the place his mother was buried and where he and his wife, Luo Xuemei, would be too, after this ceremony. The wooden hall was long, unbearingly long. The eyes and faces on the wall were simply paintings, but he felt their gazes sear into his back, like he was a criminal walking his last steps before his execution. The dim lighting didn't make him feel any better.

At the end of the hall, Lou Xuemei smiled at him. He walked half a step faster. He squeezed her hand, until his veins bulged - almost as if fearing she would disappear if he didn't grip tight enough. His strength was fading, and only faster as time passed. Perhaps spending so much strength holding his wife's hand meant less for his great-grandchild, but he couldn't help it.

Luo Xuemei squeezed his hand just as hard, if not harder. Her hair was also white, carefully tied into a bun, perfectly made, unlike his. She wore a thick robe, with multiple layers underneath, both more former and heavier than his. She had a few wrinkles under her smile and on her forehead, though some of the wrinkles must have been hidden. Hiding them all would have been too disingenuous. Still, she looked considerably younger than he did. After all, cultivation was an entire realm above him; while it did little to increase her longevity, her vitality and qi did increase.

He looked into her eyes and saw all the years they spent together flash by: he remembered the first time he met her, she challenged him in the U-10 tournament; they never did crosspaths there, since he lost the match before but she avenged him by completely destroying his opponent right after. He remembered when she stayed at his side when he was deemed a waste, a cripple, for stagnating in the second realm for twelve years, but eventually married him and gave birth to two wonderful daughters. He remembered the tireless nights she worked when he couldn't earn enough on his own to support their two daughters and the days she spent learning the guqin, to get along with his sister and their second daughter, despite how often she would want to destroy it in frustration. He remembered how distraught she got when her third pregnancy, a miscarriage, would prevent her from giving birth ever again. Yet, they stayed together, even to this day, happily married. Today, today, would be their last day together, and alive for that matter.

They looked to the door before them. It was a wooden double door, leading to the inheritance room. His parents must have been in a similar situation, grander because of the royal halls, since his father was an emperor once upon a time. His mother was lucky, as she should be. She was the kindest woman he had ever known - save his wife, two daughters and maybe a couple of granddaughters. She had outlived all the other concubines and royal consorts, so she got to be the one to perform the ceremony with her beloved. She never asked for too much, only to spend time with him when she could and have enough resources to live and for her children to grow.

Yang Qing could remember that day, when he saw his parents pass through the doors into the inheritance room. His father's back was no longer straight - it hadn't been for more than twenty years, despite his cultivation, and would only straighten a bit in formal situations. His father had lived his last years a bit melancholic, remaining stoic only in formal settings.

His father always felt he lived far too long. All of his sons who cultivated the royal technique were died by that point. He passed down the throne once, twice and three times; the first two times to his sons and the third to one of his many grandsons he couldn't quite care to remember. It took a toll on him, watching his children die decades before him. The alcohol he drunk to lessen his grief only made things worsen his health and body. Before finally passed down the throne for the third time, he created a law where infighting for throne was no longer permitted, only the one with the greatest merits would assume the throne and his brothers would be his ministers to aid him. Sure, infighting happened between royals in previous generations, but not to the point where two entire generations of royals wiped each other out.

His mother was luckier in that aspect, she avoided politics to raise her children and both Yang Qing and his sister, Qing Xuefeng, survived. Yang Qing's struggle with his cultivation saved his life while Qing Xuefeng decided singing, not government, was her true calling in life. His father had once opposed, but every now and again, when he was drunk and thought his children couldn't hear him, he would mention perhaps she was the wisest one of all his children.

Yang Qing could only imagined the relief in his father's mind that he would not have to watch any more of his children die before him as he entered into the inheritance room. His mother must have also been tired of the fighting, especially between the concubines, and was cherishing her final moments with her beloved as she stepped into the room. When he and his sister met them, as they passed down their cultivation to his sister's granddaughter and a grandnephew of his last remaining half-sister, his father and mother only encouraged him, having faith that he could reach the emperor realm in cultivation, not just in alchemy, even if he had grown so old already. They said they were proud of him and his achievements, that they loved him dearly. Yang Qing never cried so much than that day.

And now, it was he turn. He was strangely calm. He always thought he would hate the voice of death calling him just a few steps away, the echo of its chilly voice growing louder and louder with each breath. But, he was satisfied. He had a loving wife and two wonderful daughters and a plethora of grandchildren, unique in many ways but all lovable. Yang Qing gave Luo Xuemei's squeezed hand one more time and looked into her eyes before he opened the door and walked in.

His two daughters, Qing Guiying and Qing Zhengya, wore pink and purple robes respectively, their favorite colors since their childhood, something that never changed. He could almost see two little girls walking and running awkwardly to him, falling and crying along the way, just like all those years ago. Tears were already in their eyes and he suppressed a chuckle. He could well imagine what parents thought of his own face at that time.

His two son-in-laws, Song Jian and Li He, stood by their wives. Song Jian had white hair and a long, white beard and mustache that reached to his chest. Li He had whitening hairs, but a decent part of his head was covered in black hair. He was nearly ten years younger than Qing Zhengya, yet he never regretted marrying a woman so much older than him. Their faces were stoic, but their hands were trembling as they looked at him. They looked confident and stern now, but he couldn't help but chuckling at the faces they made when their first child was born and their inability to sit still despite his daughters screaming at them to quiet down.

The four sat behind their great-grandchildren, Qing Rouchen and Qing Tian, respectively, patting them on their shoulders a couple of times before standing up and hugging Yang Qing and Luo Xuemei.

Yang Qing hugged his son-in-laws, his apprentices, first while his wife hugged their daughters. He couldn't be more proud of his apprentices and he never accepted more. They accepted him as a teacher when he was still struggling in the same cultivation realm as them. Although unwilling at first, their thirst for knowledge and dedication for their craft quickly put those initial distrust and unwillingness to rest. The three spent not a few nights up together, scrambling to test pill formulas when they burnt through all their funding and were down to their last materials to succeed. Often, they did. However, sometimes, they had to grit their teeth, kowtow and beg their wives for funds to continue their research. Those times were stressful at the time but, boy, were they great looking back at them.

Then he hugged his daughters. He smiled. It was like they finally returned into his embrace after they left for their husbands all those years ago. He never did get over letting them go after they married, but after Luo Xuemei's forceful persuasion, he eventually relented. Though they never truly did go too far, his son-in-laws were his apprentices while his daughters were Luo Xuemei's apprentices. They went on bi-annual family trips.

He patted both of them on the back. "I'm proud of you. I may not have been the best nor even helpful dad when you were growing up - too enraptured by my own failings than bothering to look at you two properly, but, always remember, if nothing else, I love you now and I always will.

"It might not be much, but I left half of my savings over the years for you two and the other half to your husbands. Most of all, I left some array formations for you two to record music and more arrays recording some of our more memorable times. Take it as a retirement package, enjoy yourselves and your remaining years. Eat good food, listen to fine music and go new places." Yang Qing patted them on the back again. "You have surpassed mine and your mother's expectations and we were forever blessed to have you two. Live well, and I love you two."

He released his two daughters, and his two apprentices and long since been awkwardly standing around while Luo Xuemei had started interrogating them. He brushed a few of his tears away before nudging his daughters towards them.

Qing Tian and Qing Rouchen each sat within a level six array tailor to them and for this special inheritance ceremony. He sat in front of Qing Tian and placed his hands onto Qing Tian's. The child's pulse was erratic and quick, much like his breathing, and no good for cultivating, especially in such a delicate operation. "Relax and breathe slowly, everything is going to be alright," Yang Qing said, moving his hands and covered Qing Tian's eyes. "Close your eyes and take slow, deep breaths."

Yang Qing spent each moment searching for any potential flaw and eliminated them as he saw them. This opportunity was far too rare and important to take any haphazard risk. After ten minutes of deep breaths, Qing Tian's pulse stabilized and his face regained its original, pale color. Yang Qing took out a black pill from his robe. He personally refined six months worth of blood - at a cup each day - as a base, and heavenly and earthly treasures to supplement it, to form three drops of blood that required another lengthy process to finally mellow out for a five-year-old. The final result was three pills, one for each stage of the inheritance ceremony. Qing Tian himself spent the last six months preparing to eat this pill, since it would strengthen him by several realms almost instantly.

"Eat this pill," Yang Qing said, placing the pill into Qing Tian's mouth. "Start cultivating immediately after swallowing it." He grabbed Qing Tian's jaw, just as it was going to crush the pill. "Don't chew it, swallow it whole."

Two hours later, they finished refining the outer the pill, instantly jumping four layers to the peak of the first realm. Qing Tian was covered in a black goo and stunk worse than any skunk, but no one paid it any mind. Yang Qing grabbed a dark blue pill from his robe and shoved it into Qing Tian's mouth. His blue face turned red, then pale and his qi calmed down, preparing to break through to the second realm. His soul was near exhaustion, but it was too early to spot. Yang Qing could only use the little part of his strength left to guide Qing Tian and supplement his qi consumption. A few minutes later, he broke through to the second realm and his cultivation began to rush to the third realm.

At the end of the inheritance ceremony, Qing Rouchen had reach the third layer of the fourth realm and Qing Tian reached the ninth layer, the peak, of the third realm. The two children quickly bowed before leaving Yang Qing and Luo Meixue in the room alone. Yang Qing and Luo Meixue were already too weak for words at this point. The ceremony were more tiring for them than the kids, since their flames of life had snuffed out halfway through, only the strength of their souls kept them alive this long.

Luo Meixue laid within his arms, gently breathing. Her pulse was barely sensible. At least, he couldn't sense it. He could hardly feel in his extremities, but he could see her chest slowly rise and fall. Neither spoke, nor did they have to. They were alone in the room, but he would never trade these final moments with Luo Meixue with anything in the world. His father and mother must have felt the exact same too.

When she died, he spent his last breath kissing her forehead, smiling. It was at this moment when his qi started coursing through his meridians out of his control, smashing into in his upper dantian. The world darkened instantly. His spirit threshold holding his soul into his body was already fragile, on its last bit of strength, preparing for his inevitable death, but it held. The remaining qi in his body was relentless, gathering in his lower dantian and preparing for a second, stronger strike. It was fast, and much like an arrow strung to its limit and released, there was nothing stopping it. His spirit threshold held for a second, then two seconds, but ultimately collapsed.

His upper dantian and spirit threshold no longer separated from each other and the two halves of his spirit within each combined, swallowing the remnants of qi within the surroundings. He felt a type of relaxation he never knew before as he reached the seventh realm, emperor. The six elements he couldn't even sense, let alone interact with, merged with his fire element type spirit, forming the seven element harmony within the legends.

At that moment, the final connection between his spirit and his body was severed. He felt himself ascend to the heavens, becoming lighter and lighter as he did. Despite his sense of comfort, a sense of drowsiness overcame him and he fell asleep.