My Mother Was Murdered… So I Seduced the Emperor’s Sister for Ultimate Revenge!
Chapter 16 - Six Years Old, Seventh Rank! A Monstrous Talent Unleashed!

Chapter 16: Six Years Old, Seventh Rank! A Monstrous Talent Unleashed!

Where was I?

He tried to raise his hand to rub his eyes, but his arm felt weak and absurdly short, refusing to obey. Looking down, he saw a tiny body wrapped in an embroidered swaddle.

This… wasn’t his body!

An elderly woman in ancient attire leaned in with a gentle smile.

“Young master, you’re awake? Are you hungry?”

Her words were intelligible yet utterly foreign to him.

Young master?

A flood of fragmented memories surged into his mind, clashing violently with his existing awareness.

Fan Shen… terminal illness… modern world… Danzhou… Qing Kingdom… illegitimate child…

Fan Xian!

He had become Fan Xian? The Fan Xian from Joy of Life?

Had he transmigrated?

And worse—into a newborn baby?!

Absurd. Ridiculous. Unbelievable.

He tried to move but could only let out incoherent babbles. His limbs felt like lead, heavy and useless.

Shock and confusion overwhelmed him, his mind in turmoil.

What was this? Some cruel joke from the heavens?

From a modern young man to an infant in an ancient world of political intrigue?

Trapped in this fragile, helpless body, an unprecedented sense of powerlessness settled over him.

No matter what, he was Fan Xian now.

After the initial shock, cold acceptance took hold.

He needed to survive. To adapt to this unfamiliar world. To… grow up.

Time slipped through his fingers like fine sand.

Seasons changed, years passed.

Deep within the palace, time seemed to stretch endlessly, silent and still.

Six years flew by in the blink of an eye.

The infant who had silently cultivated in his swaddle was now a six-year-old child.

Morning sunlight filtered through the window lattice, spilling into the courtyard.

Li Changsheng sat cross-legged on a stone slab, back straight, eyes lightly closed. His breathing was slow and rhythmic, as if the very air pulsed in time with him. Invisible strands of spiritual energy steadily flowed into his body.

The Eternal Life Technique, a cultivation method imprinted deep in his soul, had begun to bear fruit after six years of relentless practice.

The fragility of an infant’s meridians was long behind him.

Now, his body brimmed with energy, his vitality surpassing not just his peers but even many adult martial artists.

Sixth level of the Mortal Physique Realm—that was his current stage in the Eternal Life Technique.

By this world’s martial standards, his strength had reached the seventh rank.

A six-year-old, seventh-rank martial artist.

If this were known, it would shake the entire Qing Kingdom—no, the entire world.

It was terrifying.

This wasn’t just due to the Eternal Life Technique’s brilliance. Six years of daily system rewards had piled up—rare treasures, secret manuals, elixirs, insights—all fueling his growth.

He absorbed everything like a sponge, relentlessly devouring anything that could make him stronger.

After an hour, Li Changsheng slowly opened his eyes.

His gaze was clear yet carried a depth and calmness far beyond his years.

Six years had refined his already delicate features into jade-like perfection. Even as a child, his striking handsomeness was undeniable.

“Done practicing, little brother?”

A sweet, crisp voice rang out.

Lin Wan’er walked over, carrying a cup of warm water. At eight years old, she had shed some of her childishness, her figure beginning to lengthen like an elegant budding orchid. With her painted brows and delicate features, she was already a beauty in the making.

She handed him the cup.

“Drink some water. You’re sweating a little.”

Her eyes were tender, filled with sisterly affection.

Over these six years, though they were only siblings in name, their bond had deepened through constant companionship.

Li Changsheng took the cup and drank slowly.

The warm water soothed his throat, carrying with it his sister’s care.

He glanced up and noticed a loose strand of hair resting against Lin Wan’er’s fair cheek, tousled by the breeze.

Without thinking, he reached out, gently tucking it behind her ear.

His fingertips brushed her soft skin.

Lin Wan’er blinked, her cheeks flushing faintly pink. But her lips curled into a sweet smile.

Bathed in sunlight, the two children shared a quiet, heartwarming moment.

Just then, a figure appeared at the courtyard’s entrance.

Dressed in lavish palace robes, her figure was elegant, her curves alluring.

Her beauty was peerless—skin like snow, phoenix eyes gleaming with an indescribable charm and authority.

Princess Royal, Li Yunrui.

Her gaze fell on the siblings, a complicated light flickering in her eyes.

She stepped forward, her movements graceful yet carrying an invisible pressure that seemed to still the air itself.

Lin Wan’er immediately bowed.

“Mother.”

Li Changsheng stood as well, watching her calmly.

Li Yunrui approached him, bent slightly, and scooped him up effortlessly.

The delicate fragrance of a mature woman enveloped him.

“My little Changsheng, still meditating like a grown-up?”

Her voice was laced with lazy amusement as she pinched his cheek lightly.

She nuzzled against him, inhaling deeply.

“So sweet. Like a freshly made porcelain doll.”

With that, she kissed his soft cheek.

Li Changsheng allowed it, his expression unreadable.

Li Yunrui had no idea that this “porcelain doll” in her arms harbored terrifying power.

To her, he was just an unusually quiet, well-behaved child who liked to mimic adult cultivation for fun.

She never questioned it.

Who could imagine a six-year-old had reached the seventh rank?

Holding him, her thoughts drifted.

Ye Qingmei…

That woman who had once outshone everyone, whom she had envied—no, hated—with every fiber of her being.

Yet now, she was raising Ye Qingmei’s child with her own hands.

How ironic fate could be.

But as she looked at the exquisitely beautiful, preternaturally intelligent boy in her arms, she couldn’t deny the genuine affection and protectiveness she felt.

This conflict had haunted her for six years.

She set him down and straightened his collar.

“Don’t practice too long. You’ll tire yourself out.”

Her tone was that of any doting mother.

Such was their daily life.

Outwardly warm, yet veiled in an impenetrable mist.