The courtyard echoed with sharp gasps as Ishan's palm cracked across Ravi's face. Dust hung in the air, trembling under the silence that followed. But before anyone could move, a furious voice thundered from behind—
"How dare you lay a hand on my men! Have you forgotten your place, Ishan? Do you really think you're some kind of young master again?"
Ishan froze for a moment, his gaze shifting slowly toward the voice. A boy of his own age stood there—broad-shouldered, fair-faced, every inch of him sculpted in arrogance. His clothes screamed nobility, but his expression... it begged for a beating.
A faint smile curved Ishan's lips. "Ah, my dear little brother Rajesh," he said lightly, his voice edged with mockery. "You seem angry. But perhaps your words aren't entirely accurate. Tell me, you two..."
He turned toward the two guards who had witnessed everything.
The guards straightened immediately, bowing slightly. "Yes, Young Master?"
"If anyone dares to tarnish the dignity of a Young Master," Ishan asked softly, "what is the family rule?"
The guards responded in unison, voices sharp as steel, "Their cultivation must be crippled, and they should be cast out of the family, Young Master."
Ishan nodded approvingly, like a teacher pleased with his students' recitation. Then he turned back to Rajesh, feigning innocence.
"See, little brother? I was simply enforcing the family rules. And because this one happens to be your pet dog, I'm sparing him from exile. Just teaching him a lesson."His face twisted into an exaggerated look of pity.
Around them, the spectators exchanged uneasy glances. Only one thought echoed in their minds—This Young Master… he's cunning. A sly fox in silk.
Rajesh's jaw tightened. His anger burned hotter, but his father's warning echoed in his mind — Do nothing that draws the Grand Elder's suspicion.
With visible effort, Rajesh suppressed his rage and spoke through clenched teeth, "You've taught him enough. There's no need to punish him further. He understands his mistake."
"Oh?" Ishan's smile darkened. "From your tone, it sounds like the problem lies not with the dog… but with its master."
His gaze turned razor-sharp. Though calm, his eyes carried a killing intent so intense that even the seasoned warriors nearby felt a chill creep down their spines. Rajesh instinctively stepped back before catching himself — the pride of a Physical Level cultivator burning in his chest.
"What do you mean by that?" Rajesh demanded, his voice wavering.
"I mean…" Ishan's tone turned deadly cold, "…how dare you address me as you?"
In the next instant, Ishan blurred forward.Crack!A slap echoed like thunder. Rajesh's head snapped sideways.
The entire courtyard froze.The once "useless" Young Master had just slapped Rajesh Singhania.
Their minds struggled to process it — Ishan, the cowardly heir who once avoided every confrontation, now stood tall, his aura dominating.
Rajesh trembled, his hand rising to his cheek in disbelief. "You... you dare—"
Crack! Another slap landed, this time on the other cheek.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Rajesh's face flushed red with fury and humiliation. He had always treated Ishan as beneath him — a disgrace to the family. Yet here he stood, unable to lift a hand in retaliation.
"You..." Rajesh started again.
"You will address me as 'Young Master'," Ishan interrupted, his voice low and cold, slapping him once more before Rajesh could finish.
Rajesh's fists clenched. He wanted to strike back — gods, how he wanted to — but his father's warning chained his fury.
"You're right," Rajesh said at last, forcing calm into his trembling voice. "A Young Master shouldn't dirty his hands on a mere servant."
His attempt at retreat only deepened the crowd's awe — and his own shame.
Ishan smirked, cleaning his hand with a handkerchief as though wiping off filth. "Good. Remember that, little brother. You may be an Elder's son, but I am the heir. Until I step down, you'll greet me properly every time you see me. Forget that lesson…"He leaned close."…and I'll remind you again."
Rajesh's face twisted, his fury barely contained.
Ishan continued calmly, "Oh, and you were right about one thing — it's unbecoming of me to deal with insignificant people personally."He dusted off his robes.
Rajesh's jaw trembled with anger. Ishan could practically hear the blood roaring in his veins. It delighted him."What's wrong, little brother? You look furious," Ishan teased.
"No, Young Master," Rajesh said through gritted teeth. "How could I ever be angry with you?"
"Your face says otherwise," Ishan said.
"I assure you, I'm not angry."
"Really? You're not angry?"
"Yes, Young Master," Rajesh hissed.
"Hmm… you're a terrible liar," Ishan chuckled. "Still, I'll give you a chance. Next month, on the first — meet me at the Monthly Arena. If you defeat me, I'll surrender my title as Young Master."
Rajesh's lips curled into a faint smile — but before he could speak, Ishan added, "However… it will be a life-and-death duel. Victory means life. Defeat means death."
The crowd fell silent. Even Rajesh blinked, momentarily stunned — not from fear, but from disbelief. Where was this courage coming from?
"What's wrong? Scared already?" Ishan asked mockingly.
Rajesh's pride flared. "You—"
Crack!
Another slap cut him off.
"Not you," Ishan said coldly. "Address me properly, or I'll fix that tongue of yours."
Rajesh's face burned crimson. He finally managed to bow stiffly and say, "Yes… Young Master. If that is your wish, I'll be there."
He turned sharply and stormed away, his face twisted with rage and humiliation. Inwardly, he cursed Ishan a thousand times over.
By evening, the story had spread like wildfire across the entire Singhania Family — the useless Young Master has returned… and he's no longer the same.
Those who once bullied him kept their distance, watching cautiously. Everyone now awaited the first day of the next month — to see whether Ishan had truly changed or was just putting on a show.
Ishan, meanwhile, smiled to himself. He had achieved exactly what he wanted.No one would bother him for a while.He could finally focus on his cultivation.
As he walked back toward his secluded hut, Ishan suddenly felt something. Someone was following him — carefully, timidly.
He stopped, scanning the woods. A flicker of pink caught his eye — the edge of a hair ribbon peeking from behind a tree.
A small grin crept onto his face. "Oh no," he said dramatically. "Someone's following me… and I can't even find them. What should I do?"He put a hand to his chest, feigning terror. "Wait — that pink ribbon behind the tree… surely it's not the one I gifted years ago."
His exaggerated performance could've won an award — if bad acting were an art form.
A soft, melodic voice broke through his charade."You found me again! But I'm not talking to you today."
A petite girl stepped out from behind the tree — about thirteen, her cheeks adorably round, her twin braids swaying as she pouted. Her large, innocent eyes glistened with mock anger.
It was Sara, daughter of Ashok — Ishan's father's closest friend.
Sara's father had served the Singhania Family as Chief Adjudicator ever since Ishan's father vanished years ago. It was Ashok who had protected Ishan all this time, even defying the family head to search for him when he disappeared months ago.
Ishan's heart softened at the sight of her. "Ah, Princess Sara is angry with me," he said playfully, bowing low. "May this unworthy one know his sin?"
"I'm not falling for your sweet words!" Sara said, puffing her cheeks. "You disappeared for four months without a single message. Do you even know how much I missed you?"
Her voice trembled slightly — the tears glimmering in her eyes were real.
Ishan's smile faded into something gentler. He crouched down, ruffling her hair. "Forgive me, little princess. I won't vanish again — that's a promise."
"Really? Or are you just saying that to trick me again?" she asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.
He chuckled. "Promise."
"Hmmph! If my cheeks swell because you keep pinching them, I'll tell Father." she declared.
"Wait—what?" Ishan blinked, caught completely off guard.
She giggled, clearly enjoying his flustered reaction.
"You're still too young to talk like that," he sighed.
"I'm not! I'm grown up now! I can even protect you!" she said proudly, waving her tiny fist.
Ishan couldn't help but laugh softly. Her innocence was pure sunlight in a world filled with shadows.
"Come on," he said at last. "It's getting late. Where's Uncle Ashok?"
"He's returning with his squad. When he heard you'd come back, he left immediately!" she chirped.
Then, her tone darkened slightly. "But why did you fight Rajesh? Ever since you disappeared, his father hasn't even helped search for you. I think they had something to do with it."
Ishan paused, smiling faintly. "You're too clever for your age, Sara. Sometimes, even I'm jealous."
She blushed at the praise. Together, they walked through the fading twilight toward Ishan's hut, laughing and talking. Along the way, she told him everything that had happened in his absence — the schemes of his uncle Rajveer, the inheritance disputes, and the failed attempt to steal the heir's gift meant for his eighteenth birthday.
By the time they arrived, the stars were out. The little hut stood among tall silver bamboos, glowing faintly in moonlight — tranquil, secluded, and serene.
It wasn't grand, but it was peaceful — a place untouched by the chaos of empires.
Inside, Rajeev — the injured guard Ishan had saved earlier — tried to rise. "Young Master—"
"Stay down," Ishan ordered firmly. "Don't even think of moving until you recover."
"Yes, Young Master," Rajeev said weakly, smiling in gratitude.
Sara mimicked Ishan's tone, wagging her finger. "And you're not allowed to work until you're completely healed!"
The three of them burst into laughter.
Later, as night deepened and Sara returned home, Ishan sat alone between the towering bamboo stalks, moonlight washing over his face.
So much to do… so much to reclaim.
He began planning his next steps — to rebuild his strength, to understand this world's cultivation system, to explore the Martial Arts Hall and learn how far his ancient techniques could evolve here.
He closed his eyes, sensing the flow of Vital Energy — or as this world called it, Prana Energy. The density here was immense, richer than anything he had ever known.
"Tomorrow," he murmured, "I begin again."
But even as he whispered those words, a flicker of movement caught his attention. His heightened senses screamed a warning — someone had just slipped silently into his hut.