To fly using a sword was no longer a matter of skill for Ye Wen now; rather, numerous technicalities remained unresolved. The technique Ye Wen once used, rushing forward shrouded by his sword energy, already possessed the nascent form of sword-riding flight. Ye Wen had zero interest in the method of stepping on the flying sword as if riding a skateboard, that way of flight involving the sword light wrapping around the person.

The current issue to solve was how to sustain the sword light enveloping him for an extended period, allowing for continuous flight.

“Currently, by wrapping myself in sword energy, that energy receives an inexhaustible supply of my True Qi, so extended flight shouldn't be a problem. However, achieving uninhibited maneuverability is still a massive headache.

Being limited to straight-line motion held little meaning for Ye Wen. What he truly desired was the orthodox method of flight that allowed for freedom of movement—forward, backward, and with arbitrary turns.

“Perhaps integrating some profound applications of the Cloud Ladder Evasion skill might prove useful!”

The Qigong technique, besides enabling martial artists to move and leap faster, also represented humanity’s aspiration toward the sky. Many masters, who refined their Qigong to the utmost, could drift in the air for a long time on a single breath of True Qi. Now that his power had reached such a level, deploying the Cloud Ladder Evasion would naturally be immensely potent. Even the Earth-Shrinking Inch technique of the Jade Cave Sect’s Nine Sword Immortals might not necessarily surpass the Cloud Ladder Evasion. Ye Wen could now achieve the effect of stepping out once and instantly being far away.

However, this was the air, not the ground. How to change and move freely in the sky still required careful consideration. Otherwise, even if he could fly, genuinely unleashing his strength mid-air would be difficult. In his memory, those cultivators always seemed fond of floating in the air and tossing magical treasures.

Though he wasn't sure if his thoughts were correct, it was better to be prepared!

Ye Wen retracted his True Qi. The purple glow surrounding him immediately dispersed, and he began free-falling while manipulating his energy in mid-air. Yet, less than ten meters from the ground, a sudden lightness overtook him; he transformed from a heavy stone to something as light as a feather, descending silently onto the balcony of his villa, not causing the slightest sound, nor disturbing Ning Ruxue, who was still fast asleep inside.

He looked up at the moon hanging high in the sky and the faintly visible starlight. In the city, it was now very hard to see such starlight because of the artificial lights. During his stay in Liverpool, he couldn't see any stars at all. Only by returning to his home country and coming to such a remote location could he catch a glimpse of them.

“It’s been a few years since I came back here; I wonder what happened to the ‘me’ of this world?” Ye Wen had never been certain if this world was the one he had lived in. Firstly, the host of unfamiliar foods he had never heard of made him uncertain. Moreover, for all these years, he had been diligently focused on his own affairs, intentionally or unintentionally ignoring that aspect of things.

Now that the school was built and all the teachers hired, they were only waiting for enrollment to finish. Then, he wouldn't have much to be busy with—just wandering around the school daily, searching for young people with outstanding talent to take on as disciples, covertly cultivating the forces of the Shushan Sect, and quietly waiting for his junior disciples or apprentices to ascend through the Void Shattering.

He didn't know if everyone arrived in this world after shattering the void as he had, but if they did, having already established initial forces here would provide them with a place to settle. This way, if they truly ascended through the Void Shattering and found themselves without support, they wouldn't become strangers to the Shushan Sect.

With these matters now arranged, he could no longer ignore the question: Is this world truly the one he lived in? Is there another "Ye Wen" in this world?

He wasn't worried about another version of himself seeing him on television and being surprised, as he was merely a soul transference and transmigration, and his appearance was quite different from before; at most, they just shared the same name.

As he pondered this, a memory almost buried under dust suddenly flashed in his mind. He recalled hearing about a famous person who shared his name, but at the time, he was messing around constantly and hadn't paid much attention.

“This…”

Scratching his head, Ye Wen thought hard for a long while. Finally, he recalled that he had never heard of a Chinese magnate acquiring Liverpool in his past life, which led him to believe he was overthinking things.

But even so, he felt something was slightly odd. His decision to buy Liverpool this time was impulsive; no one could guarantee he would actually go through with it—even he himself didn't know until he actually bought it.

“If there really was another version of myself in the past, but that version only managed to establish a school instead of successfully buying Liverpool, then…” Ye Wen’s thoughts became increasingly tangled; he realized he had walked into a loop. The simplest way to unravel this problem would be to visit the place where he used to live and confirm whether another version of himself existed. However, he was also hesitant to go running over there, fearing it might cause some unknown change.

“If I truly returned to the world I used to inhabit, and if I went to find myself, causing some kind of impact that prevented the event of my transmigration from ever happening, would the current me still exist?”

He looked at his hands and realized this matter was truly bothersome. This line of reasoning deterred him from seeking out the possibly existing other self; he could only sit alone, brooding over it.

During these days when Ye Wen’s mind was in utter turmoil, the reputation of the Shushan Literary and Martial Arts School grew louder and louder. Quite a few people came to enroll, and most of them were relatively young. The smaller number of older applicants also possessed some foundational skills, like Guan Jie, who had practiced Sanda previously.

Besides them, there was one person who enrolled that greatly surprised Ye Wen, though she signed up for the vacation class. This class had no restrictions; even someone seventy or eighty years old could enroll, and attendance wasn't mandatory—it was completely extracurricular.

This person was the ponytail girl who had come with a friend that day. This college student, with slight freckles dotting her face, looking quite young and innocent, threw her ponytail over her shoulder, enrolled herself, and then walked away with an expression of spirited defiance.

“What’s so amazing about that?”

Ye Wen couldn't be bothered to argue with the girl. After a cursory look at the enrollment situation, Ye Wen was confronted with an even larger dilemma.

Many parents came hoping their children could learn more subjects in addition to martial arts and the core academic courses, specifically hoping for other things.

“—Like a foreign language… Principal Ye, you know, nowadays, everything requires a foreign language. University requires it, finding a job requires it…” The parent was cut off before finishing his sentence by Ye Wen: “How old is your child? Ten, right? Has he mastered the Chinese language yet?”

The parent froze, unsure how to respond. Finally, he heard Ye Wen say: “Let him master Chinese before thinking about anything else! Even if he truly needs to learn a foreign language later, he has plenty of time to start! Furthermore, if you really intend for your child to learn a foreign language, send him abroad; what kind of foreign language can he possibly learn well domestically!”

The parent stood there dumbfounded by the statement. Only the little boy beside him giggled, likely happy that he might be spared some hardship.

Unexpectedly, Ye Wen then turned to the youngster and said: “Don't be too happy. Our school is very strict about Chinese language studies. Although regular tests don't use scores as a metric, the passing line is set very high. By the standards of ordinary schools, you need eighty percent to pass. If you fail, you retake the test. If you still fail, you retake again until you pass! If you continuously fail Chinese, you repeat the grade until you pass and only then move up!”

Ye Wen gestured toward the plaques and calligraphy pieces hanging around, all bearing Chinese characters: “A Chinese person who cannot even speak proper Chinese, what else should he be concerned with?” (Aside: These were the exact words of my homeroom teacher when I was in school, and she taught English. I have kept them in my memory.)

He didn't know if this parent would understand his perspective, but Ye Wen had his own principles, and since he opened the school, it had to operate according to his will.

“In short, our school claims to be literary and martial; both aspects must be rigorously pursued! As for other subjects…” Ye Wen shrugged, “We only guarantee that they will be roughly on par with other average schools!”

As for the examination system, Ye Wen didn't discard it entirely, but he implemented a policy of non-disclosure of scores. Publicly, they only announced three tiers: Failing, Passing, and Excellent. Scores wouldn't be published, nor would the test papers be returned. If not for the need to create positive competition, Ye Wen wouldn't have even set the 'Excellent' standard; there would only be Passing and Failing.

All of this was written into the school’s regulations, so the teachers were working hard to adapt to Ye Wen’s seemingly impromptu ideas. The vastly different working environment kept them in an exploratory phase. Fortunately, the students hadn't fully arrived yet, giving them time to slowly integrate.

Meanwhile, Guan Luyan had also returned and brought his wife, daughter, and that apprentice with him.

Besides forcing his daughter to resign from a newly secured position at a higher education institution, he also disregarded his apprentice's confusion that his master was becoming the Vice Principal under some obscure junior, and single-handedly and forcefully made the decision to bring everyone before Ye Wen.

The news that Guan Luyan was taking the post of Vice Principal at the Shushan Literary and Martial Arts School began to spread throughout China’s martial arts community from that day on. Everyone was astonished that a figure as highly regarded as Guan Luyan had actually been invited by the wealthy man surnamed Ye, and furthermore, that he had brought his entire family to the Shushan Literary and Martial Arts School, adopting a permanent posture.

“What is Elder Guan doing?”

“Could that great magnate have written Elder Guan a huge check?”

“I heard Elder Guan brought his daughter too. Could he be trying to set his daughter up as that magnate’s son-in-law?”

“The magnate has a wife, and also a mistress… Heh heh, Elder Guan probably wants to get a piece of the action by offering up his daughter…”

All sorts of rumors circulated across the country. Guan Luyan had heard these whispers, but having experienced much in his life, he disdained paying attention to such things and certainly didn't come out to explain.

However, some comments involved his daughter, Guan Shuying. As a young woman, she was naturally sensitive, and at only twenty-four, having recently graduated from university with little social experience, these words, once they reached her ears, nearly made the notoriously hot-tempered young lady explode with anger. Already very dissatisfied with Ye Wen, she now wished she could devour this man she had never met alive.

As for why Guan Shuying hadn't met Ye Wen, it was because after generally sorting out the enrollment issues and welcoming Elder Guan, Ye Wen dumped the school affairs onto the highly respected Guan Luyan, playing the role of a hands-off manager, and flew back to England.

He had returned to his home country and stayed long enough. The club matters had always been managed remotely—which mostly involved Mourinho calling a few times saying he needed this or that player, and Ye Wen simply waving his hand and replying with one word: "Buy!"

If it got slightly more complicated, the Liverpool transfer department would call to request approval, perhaps saying a certain player's price was too high and whether they should switch targets. Then Ye Wen would ask Mourinho if he was absolutely set on that player or if someone else could suffice, and then decide whether to throw money at it or switch targets.

In short, he agreed to almost all of Mourinho’s requests, and Liverpool’s fans adored such a generous owner who didn't interfere with the team's operations. So, when Ye Wen returned to Liverpool, some Liverpool fans even came to the airport to welcome him.

“Oh? I’m this popular, am I?” Smiling, he waved to the fans. He even saw a few scantily clad English lasses holding up signs that read: “Ye, I’ll sleep with you tonight!” which made Ning Ruxue, standing beside him, highly alert.

She had lived in Europe for quite some time and had gained a rather deep understanding of the habits of these people who looked so different from her group. These people seemed to make no effort to conceal their thoughts, even openly declaring such embarrassing matters in public while dressing so revealingly—clearly trying to seduce someone.

This situation made Ning Ruxue's sense of crisis rise sharply. While some women had shown affection toward Ye Wen before, they had never been this wild. Thus, Ning Ruxue, who usually paid little heed to such things, involuntarily tightened the hand holding Ye Wen’s arm.

Little did she know that in the eyes of European women before, the old Ye Wen was at best somewhat handsome. If they found him attractive and he didn't have a partner, striking up a conversation and perhaps developing things wasn't out of the question, but most of the time, it ended with just a few glances.

But things were different now. Ye Wen had become a major figure in Europe and globally over the past two years, and he was a wealthy man on top of that. How many women harboring dreams of snagging a rich husband were set on him! Perhaps some sought to boost their own fame by latching onto the currently soaring Ye Wen, or perhaps they were aiming for his immense fortune.

Coupled with the fact that Ye Wen wasn't very old and was quite handsome, he perfectly embodied the excellent combination of youth, good looks, wealth, and fame, naturally attracting many butterflies fluttering around.

“Hey? Isn't that a Page Three girl from The Sun? I saw her pictorial in the newspaper…” As soon as Ye Wen got into the car, a woman wearing only a cropped top and short denim shorts ran over, flirted heavily with Ye Wen, squeezed the pair of watermelons on her chest to show off her bottomless cleavage, and finally threw a card into Ye Wen's car.

The car started moving, breaking free from the crowd. Ye Wen picked up the card; it had a phone number and a name written on it—but before he could see the name, Ning Ruxue snatched it away and tore it up. The partition between the driver and the back seat could be raised, so she couldn't see what was happening behind them.

Shrugging, Ye Wen didn't take it seriously; he wasn't interested in that woman anyway. But when he turned around and saw what Ning Ruxue was doing, he laughed.

“What are you squeezing there?”

It turned out that Ning Ruxue was sitting there hugging her arms tightly, lowering her head and squeezing continuously, seemingly trying to create a Mariana Trench of her own.

Suddenly realizing what she was doing, Ning Ruxue’s face flushed slightly. She pouted and replied: “Just… doing nothing!” Then she sat upright, like a well-behaved student diligently listening in class.

Ye Wen smiled, leaned close to Ning Ruxue’s ear, and whispered: “Yours are actually quite nice. Having something this big is no use!” Upon hearing this, Ning Ruxue’s face instantly flushed as if on fire, a mushroom cloud seemed to form above her head, and she became flustered, unsure how to answer. After a moment of panic, she looked down at her own chest again and softly asked: “Really… really?”

“Fake… Of course, bigger is better! I’ll give you an extra massage tonight…” Ye Wen smiled triumphantly, but that smug smile didn't last long before it vanished under his wife's cold stare: “Um… can I have an extra blanket tonight?”

“Hmph!”

Returning to England high-profilely, Ye Wen appeared frequently in the media, becoming the focus of attention for nearly three days. But nobody knew that on the day he finished accepting media interviews, Ye Wen went to see someone who wasn't quite a friend.

Strictly speaking, the two were rivals, but at this moment, Ye Wen was sitting on this man's private jet, drinking with him.

“Ye, you are now a globally renowned magnate. Why haven't you bought yourself a private jet? You are lagging too far behind your compatriots in terms of luxury!”

A slightly plump Russian man, always wearing a smile, shook the glass in his hand. The sound of the ice cubes clinking seemed pleasing to him.

Across from him, Ye Wen was doing the same, though his glass was already empty: “I haven't considered such things for now, but if you have a suitable recommendation, feel free to let me know! Also, thank you for your help this time!”

“It’s nothing, just doing a favor!” The Russian man paid no mind to Ye Wen’s thanks, but the way he looked at Ye Wen was full of curiosity. This sudden magnate confused him, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't uncover this man's background. This situation made him wary of this young man.

Although he was one of the few people standing at the peak of the world, the higher one stood, the more one knew. He understood there were still many people and forces in this world he couldn't afford to offend, and the one opposite him… “I am very curious. You just returned to England from China, why the secret trip back?” Ye Wen poured himself another glass of whiskey and gave an answer that wasn't really an answer with a smile: “I have some private matters to attend to…” Yet in his heart, he thought: I still can’t let go; I always want to go back and take a look…