Myth Beyond Heaven

Chapter 2198 Undercurrent

Yun Lintian followed Yun Ling through the winding paths of the Yun Clan compound, a serene smile gracing his lips.

They reached the entrance to his courtyard, a quaint haven nestled amidst a grove of jade bamboo. But as Yun Lintian approached the familiar gate, he raised his brow in surprise.

Yun Ling, ever vigilant, picked up on his unease. “Young Master, is something wrong?” she asked, her voice hushed.

Yun Lintian raised a hand, silencing her. He closed his eyes, focusing his senses inward. There it was, a faint hum barely perceptible to the untrained eye. A formation, a cleverly concealed one at that, lay dormant around the perimeter of his courtyard.

A cold smile played on his lips. Someone had been trying to spy on him. Without a doubt, Yun Qinghong was the number one suspect.

Yun Lintian didn’t waste time pondering the possibilities. He wouldn’t give whoever it was the satisfaction of knowing their attempt had been discovered. With a flick of his wrist, he channeled his spiritual energy, a surge of power coursing through his veins. It wasn’t brute force he needed, but finesse. The formation was intricate, but its vulnerabilities were readily apparent to his practiced eye.

He reached out with his spiritual sense, delicately dismantling the formation piece by piece. It was like unraveling a complex tapestry, each thread carefully unwoven without causing a ripple in the surrounding fabric of reality.

The entire process was silent, devoid of any flashy displays of power. It was a testament to his refined control.

Within moments, the hum vanished, leaving no trace of the formation’s existence. Yun Lintian opened his eyes, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. Whoever had placed the formation wouldn’t even know it was gone, let alone who had dismantled it.

“Let’s go inside,” he said calmly to Yun Ling, his voice betraying none of the exertion he’d just expended.

As they entered the courtyard, the familiar scent of blooming orchids greeted them. The air here felt different, lighter now that the oppressive presence of the formation was lifted.

Yun Lintian took a deep breath, feeling a sense of peace settle over him. This was his sanctuary in this world, and he wouldn’t let anyone, not even a prying formation, disturb its tranquility.

He strode purposefully towards his private study, Yun Ling trailing behind, her eyes filled with a mix of awe and trepidation at the silent power her young master had displayed.

The study was a sanctuary of knowledge, its walls lined with shelves overflowing with scrolls and ancient texts. In the center, a large rosewood desk awaited, a single candle flickering upon it, casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to whisper secrets of forgotten ages.

Yun Lintian perched at the desk, his fingers drumming a silent tattoo on the polished surface. Candlelight danced across his face, highlighting the doubt etched into his features. The path to his mother led him to the Misty Cloud Palace, but a direct approach wouldn’t do. Preparations were needed, and perhaps… a discreet mode of transportation.

Unfortunately, neither the Cloud Dragon Ark nor his storage ring were at his disposal. With those in hand, the journey would be a breeze.

“Little Ling,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “prepare a bath for me.”

“Yes, Young Master.” Yun Ling bowed silently, her movements swift and efficient.

Yun Lintian closed his eyes, his consciousness diving deep within. He unleashed his spiritual sense, a wave of awareness that swept across the vast expanse of the Yun Clan manor.

Images flickered into his mind – a gathering of clan elders, their hushed whispers reaching Yun Qinghong’s chambers. The content of their conversation elicited a soft chuckle from Yun Lintian. Their transparent agenda: to ensure his defeat in the upcoming trial.

He had proposed the trial not for personal gain, but for Yun Wuhan. Despite his growing detachment from the Yun Clan, he wouldn’t allow his father’s honor to be tarnished.

Outside, the Yun Clan compound buzzed with anticipation. News of Yun Lintian’s challenge had spread like wildfire, igniting a frenzy of speculation and intrigue. The upcoming trial by combat was the talk of the clan, with everyone eager to witness the clash between the amnesiac heir and the ambitious Yun Long.

Within the opulent confines of the Chen Clan’s ancestral hall, the air thrummed with a palpable tension. Chen Zitao, the young master of the clan, sat upon an ornate jade bed, his face a mask of cold contempt. News of Yun Lintian’s audacious challenge had reached his ears, eliciting a sneer of disdain from the usually impassive young master.

“That fool,” Chen Zitao spat, his voice dripping with venom, “does he truly believe he can reclaim his former glory with mere bravado? His amnesia has rendered him a shadow of his former self, a pathetic husk clinging to a past he can no longer grasp.”

He rose from his bed, his movements fluid and predatory, like a panther stalking its prey. He paced the length of the hall, his eyes narrowed in contemplation.

He paused, his gaze drawn to a jade slip with a hidden message, a coded report from his informant within the White Lotus House.

The informant’s words echoed in his mind: “Situ Lan has departed without explanation, leaving behind a cryptic message hinting at a profound encounter with Yun Lintian.”

Chen Zitao’s brow furrowed. He knew that Situ Lan was a formidable cultivator, renowned for her beauty, cunning, and mastery of illusionary arts. Her sudden departure, especially in connection with Yun Lintian, was a mystery that gnawed at his curiosity.

“What could that amnesiac fool possibly possess that could pique Situ Lan’s interest?” he wondered aloud, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. “Could it be that his memory loss has unlocked a hidden potential, a latent power that even he is unaware of?”

Were Yun Lintian privy to this conversation, he would definitely clap his hands in praise for Chen Zitao. His intuition grazed the truth – Yun Lintian had indeed awakened a dormant potential, but it belonged to a different entity entirely.

Chen Zitao clenched his fist, his knuckles turning white. He had meticulously orchestrated Yun Lintian’s downfall, manipulating events to ensure his rival’s humiliation and exile. But now, as he contemplated the possibility of Yun Lintian’s resurgence, a surge of anger coursed through his veins. He would not allow his meticulously crafted plans to be undone.

“Yun Lintian,” Chen Zitao sneered, “your fate is sealed. You may cling to your fleeting hope, but in the end, you will succumb to the darkness I have unleashed upon you.”