In the northwest expanse of the Ancient Splendor Continent stood the Kunlun Mountains, a range saturated with abundant spiritual energy. This domain belonged entirely to the Fang family. At the very summit of Kunlun, a colossal temporary palace had been erected, and within its chambers, Fang Zhentian was presently secluded, tending to his recovery.

Some four hundred kilometers distant from Kunlun, in the ancient city of Yizhou, which was also firmly under the Fang family’s control, a vast complex lay situated just outside the city limits.

This massive palace had been constructed as a personal gift from Fang Zhentian to his most cherished son, Fang Jiutai.

Spanning tens of thousands of mu, the palace boasted its own self-contained rear gardens and even featured a towering peak a thousand zhang high—it was, in fact, grander in scale than the Forbidden City of historical legend.

It was a palace dedicated entirely to leisure and entertainment. The staff serving Fang Jiutai within its walls numbered over ten thousand, a clear testament to the profound affection Fang Zhentian held for this son.

As the legitimate heir born to Fang Zhentian’s principal wife, Fang Jiutai lived up to expectations. Not only was his martial strength a standout among the younger generation, but in the presence of his parents, he carried himself as the model of propriety—a well-mannered, steady, and exemplary young gentleman.

Even to the servants, their young master was benevolent. He never resorted to casual beatings or scolding; when a servant erred, he was impartial yet fair; and when duties were performed well, rewards were never withheld. He was, by all accounts, a master who understood clear delineation between reward and punishment.

Indeed, just as dawn broke, Fang Jiutai slipped out of his warm covers, performed a set of the Fang family’s ancestral fist forms, and then proceeded to his mother’s chambers to pay his respects. After accompanying his mother through breakfast, and having settled the day’s extensive household affairs, he finally stepped into his private carriage and departed the palace.

As the most powerful prospective inheritor of the clan, he could not afford to remain home constantly. Even though one of his brothers had recently been assassinated, he insisted on venturing out despite his mother’s objections. His rationale, as he often stated, was simple: "How can a seed that has never weathered a storm grow into a towering tree?"

He refused to be merely a pampered second-generation heir; he was determined to become a man who put both his mother and father at ease.

Such declarations naturally brought immense joy to his parents’ hearts: with a son like this, the future of the Fang family seemed assured.

It must be admitted that Fang Jiutai was indeed an impressive figure. At least in managing the family’s vast enterprises and navigating social circles, he possessed a rare finesse that made it nearly impossible for people not to like him.

However, he harbored a secret, unknown indulgence: embroidery...

Along his journey, after switching vehicles three times in succession to ensure absolutely no one could track his movements, Fang Jiutai, accompanied by his eight most trusted confidantes, slipped down a narrow alley and stopped before a humble, common residence.

An elderly man, whose bearing suggested one foot was already in the grave, opened the door for him. Upon recognizing Fang Jiutai, the old man immediately bowed deeply. "Young Master, you have arrived?"

"Mmm. Do you have any fine stock today?" Fang Jiutai stepped inside, asking with casual indifference.

"Yes, Young Master, please follow me!" The old man, hunched over, led the way for Fang Jiutai. They passed through winding corridors into a dimly lit room, and finally, the old man lifted a floorboard, revealing a set of hidden steps descending below.

The elder went down first. Fang Jiutai ordered his guards to remain posted at the entrance and followed the old man down into the depths.

This was his secret sanctuary, and this old man was the individual he trusted most deeply. He harbored no notion that danger could possibly reach him here.

Descending the steps led into a massive, vaulted stone chamber. Unlike the gloom above, this chamber was inlaid with numerous glowing gemstones, making the entire space brilliantly illuminated. The walls of the stone chamber were adorned with countless exquisite pieces of needlework.

These pieces were unlike typical embroidery; their raw material was neither silk nor any precious cloth, but rather some kind of thin, almost translucent hide. The patterns stitched onto them appeared even more refined due to the nature of the backing material.

At the center of this stone chamber rested a magnificent bed carved entirely from jade. Upon it was bound a handsome man, bare to the waist.

The moment Fang Jiutai saw this man, his eyes lit up. Such a perfect specimen—handsome, dashing, with skin smoother than any woman's, and possessing a faint, subtle luminescence. What a flawless material this skin presented!

Especially striking was the lifelike Vermilion Bird embroidered starkly across the man's chest; it looked ready to take flight. If he could only add some surrounding flourishes, this would surely become a masterpiece beyond compare.

He approached the man step by step, gazing at the skin, which was perfection incarnate. A satisfied smile spread across Fang Jiutai’s face.

"You have worked hard this time. You may go collect your reward. With such fine material, I may need some extended time. Do not come up to disturb me without my summons," Fang Jiutai instructed the elder beside him.

"As you command, Young Master!" The old man bowed respectfully to Fang Jiutai, retreated from the chamber, and secured the large stone door.

"Tell me, what is your name?" Fang Jiutai asked, looking at the impossibly handsome man before him with a gentle smile. He hadn't felt this happy in a long time; after all, materials of this supreme quality were not found every day.

"Ye Jingyu…" the man replied calmly, his pitch-black eyes fixed directly on Fang Jiutai, completely devoid of emotion, like a wooden automaton.

"Oh? A fine name. Do you know why I have brought you here?" Fang Jiutai chuckled lightly.

"I know!" Ye Jingyu stated flatly, yet his eyes burned with murderous intent.

Having seen the thousands of embroidered pieces lining the walls, he instantly understood: these were all stitched onto human skin. This Fang Jiutai, heralded as the most promising youth of the Fang family, was, in truth, a pervert obsessed with embroidering on human hides.

It was precisely because of this nature that he had concealed his true strength, presenting himself merely as someone at the Grandmaster realm. He possessed the Chaos Physique; if he genuinely intended to hide his power, even a Martial Venerable could not discern his true cultivation, let alone the men who captured him. This was the only method he had devised after days of intense contemplation to get close to Fang Jiutai.

"Oh? You don't seem afraid at all, and your eyes are filled with killing intent. Tell me, why is that?" Fang Jiutai observed the man with great interest. A sweep of his divine sense confirmed the man registered only as a Grandmaster—such a figure was insignificant on the Ancient Splendor Continent. Yet, why this composure?

Of course, at this moment, Fang Jiutai had completely forgotten that the very person Fang Zhentian was relentlessly hunting also bore the name Ye Jingyu. Within this chamber, which held the culmination of years of his twisted devotion, he was nothing more than an artist, thinking of nothing beyond his art.