After the scholar left, a dark face filled Ye Yu’s entire vision.
It was the man known as Ye Tuhu, who had leaned in close.
“Good son, our Ye family has butchered for generations, so I swear that from your generation onward, the name ‘butcher’ will end!” he declared.
“I want our Ye family to produce a clean, scholarly gentleman who stands in the imperial court and enjoys all its honors!”
“You’ve always wanted that life too, haven’t you? Don’t worry—your old man will sell everything I have to help you.”
“From now on, every three days I’ll hire a scholar to read books aloud to you, so you can grow accustomed to the power of words.”
“What was that saying? ‘Cultivate reading from infancy’—you must work hard!”
Listening to Ye Tuhu’s endless nagging, Ye Yu felt his head about to explode.
“Old Dēng, do you have some terrible illness?” he thought.
“I was only born a day ago—by rights I shouldn’t even understand speech yet. What good does it do to have someone read to me?”
“More importantly, in this xuanhuan world, mere reading is useless. Even if you stood at the apex of the court, one day some evil cultivator might take offense and cut you down in an instant!”
“That’s far too insecure!”
“I won’t read books! I’ll become a cultivator! I will comprehend a brand-new Dao and return to the Divine Realm!”
Of course, Ye Yu’s resistance was ineffective. His baby-language protests only convinced Ye Tuhu that pressure was taking effect.
Time flew by.
By the age of five, Ye Yu fully understood his situation. This place was a small mortal dynasty, remote and peaceful, where ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) the people lived in relative prosperity.
His father was a butcher named Ye Sandao—sounds heroic, right? Actually it was Grandpa’s whim: since he was Ye Liangdao, his son naturally became Ye Sandao.


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