115: Encountering an old friend

Xiao Ruobai and Fang Hanyu did not go directly to the Imperial Palace; instead, they arrived at the end of the alley on the west side and saw the courtyard inscribed with bloody memories.

Three years ago, this was the last refuge for him and his father, Xiao Zhan, as they fled for their lives; now, only ruins remained.

The vermilion courtyard gate had decayed to only half its original size, creaking in the wind as if weeping over the tragedy of that year.

Only the old crooked-necklocust tree tree in the corner of the wall still looked as he remembered it.

"We're here."

Xiao Ruobai's voice was as heavy as iron quenched in ice. His footsteps fell on the gravel path, each step like treading in the bloodbath of that stormy night three years ago.

He clearly remembered the deafening crash of the Imperial Guards breaking down the courtyard gate that night, shaking dust from the rafters. His father grabbed his wrist and rushed out of the mansion. The Northern Realm War God's halberd had long been confiscated by the Imperial Family, so he met the blades of the personal guards empty-handed.

A deep, bone-visible gash opened on his father's back from a long saber, blood soaking his grey cloth garments, yet he always shielded him behind him. A phrase, "Xiao Ruobai, hold tight to your father," was squeezed out from between his teeth, the warm, blood-flecked breath spraying near his ear.

It wasn't until they broke through the Great Yan Dynasty's border that his father could no longer hold on. He closed his eyes, and his final words, "Live on," became an obsession he dared not, and could not, forget for three years.

Fang Hanyu followed behind, observing the wild grass in the courtyard that had grown past his knees. On the collapsed threshold of the side room, traces of saber slashes remained, and the scattered cloth fragments, though faded, still showed the character "Xiao," revealing the former orderliness of the Generals Mansion.

Although he had not personally experienced such a calamity of extermination, he could discern the three years of suppressed hatred from Xiao Ruobai's tensed, pale shoulders and back—a vendetta steeped to the bone, a resentment that gnashed teeth even in dreams.

The two stepped into the main hall; most of the roof had long since leaked, and sunlight streamed through the holes, casting dappled light and shadow on the dusty floor.

Xiao Ruobai walked directly to the corner where ancestral tablets were once enshrined. The offering table there had long rotted away, but the former placement of the spirit tablets could still be vaguely discerned.

He took out two purple sandalwood boxes from his storage ring, his fingertips trembling slightly as he opened them. Inside were the warm, wooden spirit tablets of Xiao Zhan and his mother.

He had personally carved them from the most profound wood during his escape.

For three years, he had carried the spirit tablets close to him, their edges smoothed and polished from repeated touching, even the carved characters "Xiao Zhan" and "Su Wan" imbued with his body temperature.

He found a relatively flat bluestone slab, swept away the dust with his spiritual energy, carefully placed the two spirit tablets upright, and then took out pre-prepared plain incense to light.

As the wisps of smoke curled upwards, Xiao Ruobai bowed deeply to the spirit tablets, his forehead resting on the cold stone slab, his voice imbued with an ultimate, suppressed resolve.

"Father, Mother, your son has returned. I will not spare a single one of the Imperial Guards who massacred the Generals Mansion, nor the foolish ruler who decreed its destruction.

The blood debt owed to our Xiao family, I will make them repay it, principal and interest, one by one!"

Fang Hanyu stood beside him, head bowed, his hand gripping the Primordial Sword tightening imperceptibly.

He gazed at the two faintly glowing spirit tablets, recalling his own parents who had tragically died in the Great Yan Holy Land's conspiracy.

His enemies were the lofty Holy Land, even more unshakable than the Great Yan Dynasty, but at this moment, looking at Xiao Ruobai's straight back, he had only one thought.

One day, he too would be like his Senior Brother, wielding a sword to smash the Holy Land's mountain gate, repaying blood with blood.

Xiao Ruobai carefully returned the spirit tablets to his storage ring. As he turned, the grief in his eyes had completely transformed into sharp killing intent, and the golden Battle Qi around him subtly stirred, as if about to break free from its restraints.

He looked up towards the Imperial Palace, Battle Intent surging.

As Xiao Ruobai stepped out of the Generals Mansion, preparing to walk towards the Imperial Palace, a strange sensation suddenly swept across the back of his neck.

It was the keen intuition honed during three years of fleeing, as if a calm yet focused gaze was fixed on him from the shadows.

"Who's there?"

Xiao Ruobai spun around abruptly, the Nine Heavens Dragon Soul Halberd held horizontally before his chest, golden Battle Qi flowing around its tip. His gaze swept over the distant, half-collapsed brick wall, finally settling beneath the crooked-neck oldlocust tree tree in the corner of the wall.

In the tree's shade, a seated figure leaned against the trunk, covered by a faded, old cloth shirt, his aura steady but weak. If not for careful perception, he would almost blend in with the surrounding dead branches.

He advanced slowly, halberd in hand, Battle Qi silently gathering in his palm. This ruin had long been rarely trodden by people, and the sudden appearance of a figure was inevitably suspicious.

But as he drew closer and clearly saw the person's face, his pupils contracted sharply. The Battle Qi around him uncontrollably dissipated by more than half, and even his voice trembled with disbelief: "Uncle... Uncle Ye?"

The middle-aged man leaning against the tree now appeared old and decrepit.

His grey cloth garments were tattered, revealing arms covered in bruises, some scabbed black, others still oozing blood.

He was curled up in a pile of dry grass, his legs twisted at an unnatural angle, clearly broken.

Most alarming was the area of his Dantian; that place, which should have gathered spiritual energy, was now just a desolate hollow, clearly having had his cultivation forcibly crippled, with his Meridians completely severed.

Yet, even in such a wretched state, Xiao Ruobai recognized him at a glance. The face, covered in wrinkles and grime, still vaguely showed the contours of his younger self, especially the small black mole at the corner of his left eye, a mark he loved to touch as a child.

Xiao Ruobai recognized him instantly: Ye Wentian, his father Xiao Zhan's sworn brother from the Northern Realm army camp, and his father's most trusted fierce general.

After his father had voluntarily surrendered some military authority to avoid suspicion of "merit overshadowing the ruler," it was Ye Wentian who took over the heavy responsibility, stationed at the border year-round.

He was outwardly rough but inwardly meticulous; whenever he won a battle and captured rare Spirit Medicine or warm jade, he would immediately send someone on horseback to the Generals Mansion to nourish Xiao Ruobai's body.

Upon hearing the words "Uncle Ye," the old man leaning against the tree trembled slightly, and a light suddenly ignited in his cloudy eyes.

He propped himself up against the tree trunk, slowly sitting upright, his voice somewhat hoarse but with a soldier's robustness: "Young Master? Is it really you? You're alive, that's wonderful!"

Xiao Ruobai rushed forward, carefully supporting Ye Wentian. As his fingertips touched his cold skin and stiff joints, his heart ached as if pricked by needles.

"Uncle Ye, it's me, I'm Xiao Ruobai. How did you end up like this? Your legs, and your cultivation... What exactly did you go through these past three years?"

Ye Wentian sighed, waving his hand, his tone calm but unable to hide his despondency.

It turned out that back then, while Ye Wentian was guarding the frontier, he had just led his soldiers to repel invading enemies when he received a secret report that something had happened at the Generals Mansion.

He even entrusted the post-battle inventory to his deputy, didn't even have time to remove his armor, and immediately mounted his warhorse, rushing back to the Imperial Capital overnight.

He sought an audience with the Emperor, hoping to defend Xiao Zhan.

But the guards at the palace gate blocked him, refusing entry, saying that His Majesty would not see anyone. All he received was an emotionless imperial decree delivered by a eunuch: "Xiao Zhan's treasonous evidence is conclusive. His Majesty has decreed that anyone who dares to intercede again will be treated as an accomplice!"

How could he be willing to give up just like that?

Under the cover of night, he secretly snuck out of the Imperial Capital, intending to find Xiao Zhan and his companion.

But as soon as he left the city gate, he was surrounded by Imperial Guards who had already laid an ambush, trapping him completely. It turned out the Emperor had long anticipated his intentions and had no intention of letting him leave the Imperial Capital.

The Imperial Guards escorted him back to the Imperial Palace Plaza. In front of all the civil and military officials and Imperial Guards, the Emperor personally emerged.

Before Ye Wentian could speak, the Emperor struck his Dantian with a palm. A tyrannical spiritual energy instantly surged into his body, his Dantian was shattered on the spot, and the Meridians in his limbs snapped inch by inch in excruciating pain.

"Considering your many years guarding the frontier, you have suffered hardships even if you haven't gained merit, so I will spare your life."

The Emperor's voice was devoid of any warmth.

"Throw him back into the ruins of the Generals Mansion. Let him see clearly how the 'loyal minister' he served brought ruin upon his entire family, and how this Generals Mansion transformed from glory into a pile of rubble!"

And so, Ye Wentian was discarded here like trash.

Fortunately, the nearby neighbors knew that Ye Wentian was the former Northern Realm General and occasionally provided some aid, allowing him to survive.