48: Chapter 48 Destruction and Reconstruction

A flicker of pain and humiliation, as if old wounds had been touched, flashed across Chu Zhanxiao's face—like being suddenly lashed by invisible thorns against the most tender part of his heart, or having a scabbed-over wound violently torn open, revealing the unhealed flesh beneath.

He closed his eyes.

In that instant, the night wind of the Imperial Capital, the stench of blood in the deep alleys, those condescending gazes of pity, those whispered mockeries, the sound of shattering coming from the depths of his Soul when his Dao Foundation broke... all those unbearable memories flashed by in the darkness like a revolving lantern.

When he opened them again, he had forcibly locked all of this into the deepest part of his heart—not to forget, but to forge it into even harder armor.

The silver and gold intertwined, untamed and flamboyant Dragon Qi around his body was slowly reined in by his immense willpower, like taming a roaring Vicious Beast into a cage, until it completely submerged into his body, leaving not a trace.

He straightened his back, facing Jian Tanghuang and Xuanyuan Zhanxian in the Void Realm.

This posture was the pride of a young Prodigy, the resilience of one who had survived a catastrophe, and, even more, respect for his fellow Sect members.

He solemnly cupped his hands together in front of his chest, performing a classic and standard Daoist greeting for peers.

His movements were meticulous, carrying a sincerity that came from the bottom of his heart.

"Junior Brother Chu Zhanxiao greets Senior Brother and Second Senior Sister."

His voice was clear and resonant, piercing through the clouds and mist, echoing clearly across the summit of Changsheng Peak.

There was respect and warmth in his voice, along with a hint of how much he cherished "home"—a sentiment only those who had experienced the abyss could discern.

Behind Xuanyuan Zhanxian, the Taiji Bagua Diagram that encompassed the Universe and derived the birth and death of Chaos continued to rotate slowly and steadily.

Heaven, Earth, Wind, Thunder, Water, Fire, Mountain, and Lake—the eight trigrams rotated ceaselessly, the Dao charm as deep as the sea, as if expounding the ultimate truths of the Universe, and yet also as if quietly observing the joys and sorrows of the Mortal World.

He did not speak.

His gaze lingered on Chu Zhanxiao for a moment—that gaze was as calm as an ancient well, yet it seemed capable of piercing through all illusions to reach the Origin.

Then, he nodded ever so slightly.

A simple gesture, yet it represented silent acceptance and tacit approval. It was steady, like a mountain that does not speak; profound, like the earth that bears all things.

"Junior Brother?"

Jian Tanghuang, however, stepped forward.

The hem of her crimson gold dress trailed through the void, rippling with circles of rosy light, and the phantom of the True Phoenix behind her let out a clear, harmonious cry, as if echoing its Revered Master's surprise.

Her dark brows arched, carrying undisguised suspicion and scrutiny.

Her gaze was scorching like the sun, as if it wanted to pierce through Chu Zhanxiao's flesh and skin, reaching deep into his Dao Foundation to uncover all secrets—that was the sharpness inherent to an Eldest Princess of the royal family, and even more, her concern for her fellow Junior Brother.

"Your Dragon Qi is condensed and pure, vast and boundless; your Foundation shows no signs of damage, but instead..." She paused, the shock in her eyes deepening, and her cold, clear voice rarely carried a hint of tremor, "Instead, it is even more thick and harmonious than rumored, with a hint of returning to simplicity and tracing back to the Origin! How can this be the appearance of someone whose Dao Foundation was shattered and who has become a mere Mortal?"

Her speech involuntarily quickened, every word like a pearl, carrying an inescapable inquiry.

In this inquiry, there was shock, confusion, and even more, a worry and concern for her Junior Brother that she herself had not yet realized:

"Speak quickly, what exactly happened in the Imperial Capital? And how did you end up here, becoming a Disciple under my Changsheng Peak?"

Chu Zhanxiao took a deep breath.

This breath seemed to still carry the stench of blood and the coldness from the deep alleys of the Imperial Capital.

He closed his eyes, and the memories of that night surged like a tide—the biting cold wind, the ruptured Meridians, the shattered Dao Foundation, those faces that were once respectful but now indifferent... and that stubborn, unquenchable flame deep within his heart.

In his eyes, the bone-deep hatred and chilling murderous intent flashed by like an undercurrent beneath the ice.

It was immediately covered and melted by a warm current surging from even deeper within—that was the gratitude of a survivor towards their savior, the warmth of a wanderer finally finding a place to call home.

"Senior Sister is sharp-eyed." His voice was exceptionally calm, but beneath that calmness lay a cold abyss of ten thousand fathoms that had frozen scorching magma; it was the bone-deep calmness that only those reborn after destruction could possess. "It is true that I once... my cultivation was completely destroyed, my Dao Foundation was smashed into powder by others, my Meridians were broken inch by inch, and my Dantian was withered; I was even worse off than the weakest of Mortals. If not for... my unwillingness to give up, I would have long since been a pile of soil."

He raised his head.

His gaze involuntarily and affectionately turned toward the deepest part of the clouds and mist on Changsheng Peak—the direction of that Immortal Cave, which was looming in and out of sight, yet stood there like a needle that calms the sea.

The coldness in his eyes instantly melted, turning into a clear and warm ripple of light.

That was the attachment of a fledgling returning to its nest, the gratitude of withered wood meeting spring, the undisguisable devotion of seeing light in the darkness.

"Perhaps Heaven did not abandon me, perhaps it was a line of Opportunity in the darkness..." His voice carried an indescribable gratitude, every word seeming to be held up from the softest part of his heart, "Allowing me to meet Revered Master in the abyss of despair."

"It was Revered Master who, with supreme Divine Ability, reshaped my collapsed path, reconnected my broken bones, cleansed my deep-seated ailments, and even bestowed upon me a supreme method that fits my Origin. This cultivation, this life, this path to Rebirth... all were bestowed by Revered Master."

He paused, his voice gaining a hint of the cherishing and longing for "home" that only those who have experienced the abyss can understand:

"This place is where I was reborn."

"..." Beside them, Sect Master Ling Jiuxiao, who had been holding his breath and concentrating, was already dumbfounded, his Divine Soul feeling as if it were being repeatedly pounded by an invisible giant hammer!

His pupils contracted violently, and his gaze uncontrollably darted back and forth between the three figures: Jian Tanghuang, Xuanyuan Zhanxian, and Chu Zhanxiao.

Each time he confirmed it, the stormy waves in his heart surged, almost breaking through his chest!

It was as if thousands of thunderbolts were exploding in his mind, shaking his Dao Heart until it hummed, and his Sea of Consciousness was churning endlessly!

The Eldest Princess of the Shenwu Dynasty! The eldest imperial prince of the Great Wu Dynasty! The number one Prodigy of the Zhenwu Dynasty!

The three top dynasties of the Southern Region, the three peerless stars of the younger generation with the most noble status, the most outstanding talent, and the least possibility of intersection—they should have been three rays of light, each illuminating a different part of the sky, never crossing—yet now, as if pulled by fate, they stood shoulder to shoulder, incredibly real, on this remote Peak of the Xuantian Sect, all calling the same person Revered Master!

This... how is this ordinary Disciple recruitment and teaching?

This is clearly, with a wave of the hand, intercepting the most essential and brilliant wisp of Luck from the future hundred years of national fortune of the three supreme dynasties, and incorporating it all into one's own Sect!

Such a move, such Luck, such... Heaven-Defying Opportunity!

If even a hint of this leaked out, let alone the Southern Region being turned upside down, even the power structure of the entire Taichu Continent would likely be shaken, setting off unimaginable, monstrous waves!

Those ancient existences that styled themselves as Holy Lands, those top forces entrenched in their own territories, those great Immortal Sects that prided themselves on their long heritage—they would all likely be side-eyeing this, shocked, and... unable to eat or sleep in peace!

Sect Master Ling Jiuxiao felt his breathing become incredibly difficult, as if he were standing at the center of a vortex woven from legends and myths, witnessing with his own eyes an absurd legend worthy of being recorded on the pages of ancient history, unfolding before him.

Shock, bewilderment, ecstasy, fear... countless emotions mixed together, almost causing him, a Sect Revered Master, to lose his composure and nearly lose his footing.

Just as his heart was surging and he could hardly control himself—

Deep within the clouds and mist, two figures appeared at the edge of everyone's vision, as if they were scenery naturally emerging from an ancient landscape painting, without warning, yet incredibly harmonious.

They appeared so quietly, as if they had been there from the beginning, only previously concealed by some mysterious Dao charm.

Chu Changsheng was still wearing his plain white Daoist robe, unstained by a speck of dust.

His sleeves fluttered slightly in the mountain breeze, the white color merging perfectly with the flowing mountain mist and ethereal clouds, as if he were an indispensable and the most vivid, transcendent stroke of Concept in this "Changsheng Seeking the Dao Painting"—the finishing touch that brings the dragon to life, the stroke that gives the entire painting its Soul.

Patriarch Tian Yuanzi was in a gray robe and cloth shoes, holding a horsetail whisk. His figure swayed, like an old man who traveled the Mortal World, ignorant of worldly affairs.

But those eyes of his, which appeared murky—those eyes that seemed to have seen all the changes of the world and witnessed the rise and fall of countless dynasties—were now shockingly bright, flickering with a pure and scorching light like a child discovering a peerless treasure.

The moment Patriarch Tian Yuanzi appeared, his gaze, like a magnet meeting iron, was firmly, tightly, and precisely nailed onto Chu Zhanxiao!

"Eh?!" An undisguised exclamation of surprise, carrying unbelievable shock, suddenly burst from his mouth!

The voice was not loud, yet it seemed to contain a power that pierced through time and space, making everyone present tremble in their hearts!

The next instant, his figure flickered, leaving only a faint gray shadow in place.

His real body had already appeared out of thin air before Chu Zhanxiao like a ghost, so close that he was almost pressed against him—the speed was so fast that even the Void Realm could not react in time, and even the laws could not catch it!

He unceremoniously walked two quick circles around Chu Zhanxiao, his footsteps so fast they almost left afterimages. His nose twitched slightly, as if sniffing out the unique Dao charm of some rare treasure that only existed in legends—this expression was exactly like a starving person smelling a delicacy, or an Artifact Refining Grandmaster discovering a peerless material.

"Good lad! Good lad indeed!!"

He suddenly stopped, slapped his thigh hard, and the crisp "pop" sound was exceptionally clear on the mountain Peak.

His voice rose abruptly, carrying irrepressible ecstasy and excitement, exploding on the silent mountain Peak and shaking the sea of clouds:

"Breaking and then establishing, living towards death! Without breaking, there is no establishing; great breaking, great establishing! Your Dao Foundation... not only did not sink in destruction, but instead, from the complete ruins and ashes, Nirvana-ed into something even more ancient, purer, and closer to the Origin!"

Intense light shot from his eyes, like two small suns suddenly lighting up, staring fixedly at Chu Zhanxiao, as if wanting to see him through from inside to out, from flesh to marrow, from past to future, completely and thoroughly!

"This is... the embryonic form of the Ancestral Dragon Dao Foundation?!?"

His voice trembled; it was the irrepressible excitement and ecstasy that a true connoisseur feels when seeing a supreme treasure!

"Dragon Qi is re-erupting from the deepest part of your marrow and the very source of your Bloodline, pure and vast, without a shred of Acquired Impurities, pointing directly to the source of the Ancestral Dragon! This level of Bloodline purity and Dao Foundation aura... Heh!" He couldn't help but clap his hands again, his beard curling up, "Even those old loaches hiding in the deepest parts of the Four Seas Abyss, who pride themselves on being the direct descendants of the True Dragon and look down on everyone, probably couldn't find many who could compare to you! Those old fogies who have lived for ten thousand years will probably be jealous to the point of madness!"

He turned his head abruptly and looked at Chu Changsheng, who was standing with his hands behind his back, smiling indifferently.

In that gaze was naked, undisguised jealousy, a heart-wrenching feeling of "wasting heaven's gifts," and even a kind of resentment and indignation of "why did you get all the benefits":

"Kid Chu! You tell me! What kind of Heaven-Defying good fortune did you stumble upon?!?"

He gestured wildly, his gray beard curling slightly from excitement, his tone becoming increasingly intense:

"This kind of peerless Dao seed, rare through the ages, destined to stir up the winds and clouds and lead an era—how do they come one after another, as if they recognize the door, drilling into your tiny mountain? I have roamed the heavens, traveled across the myriad worlds, and searched for hundreds of years, why haven't I even managed to get a decent seedling?!?"

The more he spoke, the angrier he became, almost throwing his horsetail whisk away: "Where is the justice in this world!!"

Facing that "accusatory" gaze that seemed ready to spew fire, Chu Changsheng's expression remained as calm as water.

He just gently raised his hand and brushed his already spotless plain white robe sleeve.

The movement was smooth and flowing, as if he were just brushing away a speck of non-existent dust.

His brows raised almost imperceptibly, and a faint, indifferent smile played on the corners of his lips, as if he had seen through the gathering and scattering of fate.

In that smile was an understanding of Patriarch Tian Yuanzi's temperament, a silent acceptance of his own fate, and even more, a composure that transcended the world.

He said slowly: "Patriarch, the word 'fate' is the most mysterious and unpredictable. If you plant flowers with intent, they may not bloom; if you plant a willow without intent, it will naturally provide shade. Seeking it by force only lowers one's standing."

His voice was clear and light, like a flowing mountain spring, yet it possessed a power that made one unable to refute it.

His gaze slowly swept over the three Disciples standing side by side beside him—

Xuanyuan Zhanxian stood quietly like an ancient pine, the Taiji behind him deriving Chaos, his Dao charm natural.

He was as silent as an ancient mountain, saying nothing, yet possessing a heaven-propping aura—an aura that could stand with Heaven and Earth, and exist with the Dao.

Jian Tanghuang was noble and soaring, with a True Phoenix following her. The crimson gold flowing clouds illuminated half the sky, the majesty of an emperor and the transcendence of the Immortal Dao perfectly blended in her, without a trace of disharmony—she was an existence born to stand in the clouds.

Chu Zhanxiao was like a dragon hidden in the abyss.

Although he had only just revealed his sharp edge, the latent Ancestral Dragon Dao charm within him and the recovering True Dragon Dao Body already signaled his boundless, brilliant future—he was an existence destined to soar through the Nine Heavens and shock all things.

Each of them was endowed with the essence of Heaven and Earth, gathered the Luck of the ages, and was a peerless genius capable of illuminating an era and leading the winds and clouds of a region.

Now, all were under his tutelage.

Even with Chu Changsheng's long-calm state of mind, in the deepest part of his eyes, a faint yet real trace of gratification and pride belonging to a Revered Master could not help but flash by.

How could this look, as light as mist but as heavy as a mountain, escape Patriarch Tian Yuanzi's sharp eyes?

"You... you kid!" Patriarch Tian Yuanzi pointed at him, so angry he was blowing his beard and staring, only managing to squeeze out a sentence from between his teeth after a long while: "You really have had earth-shattering good Luck! No, it's like you stepped on the dog-shit Luck of the Hunyuan Dao Ancestor!!"

He suddenly leaned close to Chu Zhanxiao again, his eyes so scorching they almost wanted to brand a Dao Seal onto him.

The more he looked, the more his heart jumped, and the shock not only did not diminish but became increasingly intense.

He couldn't help but clap his hands and exclaim again, his voice even changing pitch: "Extraordinary! Extraordinary!"

He circled Chu Zhanxiao once more, his gaze scanning up and down that young body, as if admiring a peerless treasure of exquisite craftsmanship:

"It is not merely that your Ancestral Dragon Dao Foundation has begun to form! Deep within your Physical Body—feel it for yourself—your Qi and blood roar like a furnace, your vitality is as vast as the sea, endless and continuous... It is actually the 'True Dragon Dao Body', long extinct in legends, awakening on its own!"

His voice grew more fervent, carrying the mystery and excitement of a storyteller recounting ancient secrets: "During the primordial eras, those who possessed this Dao Body were terrifying existences who traversed the endless starry seas with their Physical Bodies, tore apart ancient Vicious Beasts with their bare hands, and roared stars down from the sky! They were existences that even the Heavens had to fear by three parts!"

He took a deep breath, looked at Chu Zhanxiao with a solemn gaze, and said word for word: "Kid, follow your Revered Master closely and hone yourself well. Your future achievements will never be inferior to those of your two Senior Brother and Senior Sister! In fact... they may even surpass them!"

Chu Zhanxiao's expression was calm, the kind of calmness experienced after crossing the abyss, like a deep, ancient well. He bowed again, his voice firm and devout: "Senior's kindness, you overpraise me. This Junior will certainly cultivate diligently day and night, so as not to fail Revered Master's grace of recreation or Senior's expectations."

Below.

Xuanyuan Zhandao, who had witnessed and heard everything, was already shaken to his core, as if struck repeatedly by the Nine Heavens divine thunder!

His pupils contracted violently, and his breathing stalled for an instant!

That mysterious powerhouse who had stirred up monstrous waves in the Zhenwu Dynasty, drawing several ancient existences out of seclusion in fury to hunt him down... his true identity was actually right before his eyes!

It was none other than this seemingly gentle and jade-like Grand Elder Chu of the Xuantian Sect, with his peaceful aura!

That mysterious existence who had rendered countless mighty figures of the Zhenwu Dynasty helpless and kept countless ancient existences from sleeping or eating in peace, was standing right here, so light and breezy!

What made his Soul tremble even more, with a chill shooting straight from his spine to his crown, was that—on this seemingly secluded and quiet Changsheng Peak, there were two Mahayana Cultivators standing casually!

One was already shocking, but two appearing at the same time... the implications of this, Xuanyuan Zhandao did not dare to contemplate.

And that old man with the demeanor of an immortal—Patriarch Tian Yuanzi—his cultivation was so deep, his aura so obscure and ancient, that it faintly resembled the aura of the First Ancestral Witch deep within the Imperial Ancestral Temple of his Great Wu Dynasty, who was regarded as the final pillar of the nation and never easily appeared!

That was a terrifying existence who had surpassed the ordinary Late Mahayana Stage, touched a higher level, and was capable of changing the color of the world!

This Xuantian Sect... how could it be some middle-tier Sect hiding in a corner, waiting to be manipulated?

This was clearly a place where a hidden dragon lay in the abyss, a place where divine objects hid their brilliance, yet inside it concealed a... forbidden land capable of overturning the existing pattern of the Southern Territory, a place that even supreme Imperial Dynasties had to treat with solemnity and even fear!

His previous superiority and confidence as a Shenwu General of the Great Wu Dynasty, representing imperial power—that confidence built on the prestige of the Dynasty—those self-righteous "for your own good"—under the reflection of the absolute gap in strength and the unfathomable mysterious Foundation at this moment, appeared so pale, so insignificant, and even somewhat laughable.

Like a frog at the bottom of a well seeing the true vastness and majesty of the sky for the first time.

Everything he had once been proud of, at this moment, turned into insignificant dust.

Just then—Chu Changsheng's gaze seemed to sweep down casually and faintly.

Just a glance.

That gaze was as indifferent as water, as calm as usual, as if it were just casually sweeping over a cloud or a wisp of wind.

Yet Xuanyuan Zhandao suddenly felt—the entire towering Changsheng Peak, along with the vast, churning sea of clouds for ten thousand miles, and the endless Dao pressure permeating between heaven and earth, gathered with a boom, condensing into an intangible divine mountain as heavy as the eternal blue sky, pressing down on his shoulders and his Divine Soul without warning!

The surrounding air instantly solidified into a substance harder than black iron.

It imprisoned him, a warrior who had fought his way out of mountains of corpses and seas of blood and had long since reached the Mahayana Realm, firmly in place!

His Qi and blood stagnated, his spiritual power froze, and even breathing became incomparably difficult—every breath felt as if it required all his strength, as if he were pushing something weighing ten thousand jun!

His heart was filled with monstrous waves!

What kind of Realm was this?!

What kind of power was this?!

A mere casual glance was enough to make a Mahayana warrior feel as if he had fallen into an abyss or was carrying a mountain!

He hurriedly lowered his head in a lower, more respectful, and almost devout posture, not daring to make any contact with that gaze again.

His voice was taut and trembling due to the immense pressure, and every word seemed to be squeezed out from between his teeth: "Junior... Xuanyuan Zhandao, pays respects to... the two Seniors."

Meanwhile, high in the sky—Xuanyuan Zhanxian, who had remained silent as the Dao, upon hearing that incomparably familiar, deep, resonant voice that had echoed countless times in his most difficult and desperate dreams and memories—the entire person was struck by the Nine Heavens Chaos divine thunder!

He trembled violently!

That trembling came from the deepest part of his Soul, surging from the very source of his Bloodline!

He turned around abruptly!

His gaze was like cold lightning piercing the air, instantly penetrating the distance of space, the barrier of clouds and mist, and all falsehoods, locking firmly, tightly, and precisely onto the figure below, clad in black armor, whose shoulders and back appeared somewhat tense and slightly trembling at this moment!

Uncle... These two words had rolled in his throat a thousand times.

In countless lonely and cold nights, in countless dawns waking from nightmares, in countless moments facing the darkness alone—he had chewed on them silently, over and over again.

Every time he chewed, it brought blood, tears, and a longing and grievance that went deep into his marrow.

At this moment, these two words were as heavy as a mountain supporting the sky, blocking his chest, making him almost unable to breathe.

The years of displacement and helplessness like a stray dog—those days of living under someone else's roof, those years of being ignored.

The bone-chilling cold and despair when his Spiritual Root was destroyed by his own kin—at that moment, what he heard was not just the sound of his Dao Foundation shattering, but the sound of his entire world collapsing.

The countless cold eyes and bullying he endured after his cultivation was completely ruined—those once respectful faces became cold, those once gentle gazes became disdainful, those whispers, those pointing fingers.

And the deep-seated yearning, longing, and unspeakable grievance for his kin, buried deep in his heart, which he dared not touch but which gnawed at his Soul day and night—Why? Why treat me like this? Where are you? Why didn't you come to find me? Did you... not want me anymore?

At this moment, everything, like a world-destroying flood that had accumulated for ten thousand years, crashed through all the embankments and shells he had painstakingly built with his cold Dao Heart and tenacious will!

Scalding tears—without warning and without any resistance, burst from his eyes!

Sliding rapidly down his cold, jade-like cheeks, refracting broken and brilliant light in the sunset.

One drop, two drops, three drops...

He opened his mouth, trying to make a sound.

But his throat felt as if it had been burned repeatedly by rough gravel and scorching flames, or as if it were being tightly gripped by an invisible hand.

The syllables he emitted were hoarse and broken, carrying a child-like helpless trembling and a deep-seated, unbelievable hope—that was the trembling of a drowning person grabbing the last straw, both ecstatic and unable to believe: "Un... Uncle...?"

This call—filled with sobs, trembling, twenty years of longing, countless days and nights of grievance, and all the yearning a child has for their kin—was almost out of tune, yet clearer, heavier, and more direct to the heart than any other sound in the world!

Like the sharpest and most gentle invisible arrow in the world, it instantly pierced through the incredibly hard psychological defense line that Xuanyuan Zhandao had wrapped in iron blood and majesty!

He looked up abruptly!

His gaze collided with that of the youth high in the sky—clad in black robes with ink-black hair, the Taiji Bagua Diagram revolving around him, Dao Rhyme naturally formed, yet his face was streaming with tears!

In that instant, time seemed to stand still!

The tear stains clearly rolling down the youth's face, the vulnerability, attachment, grievance, and deep-seated yearning in his eyes that could no longer be hidden, like a young beast returning to its nest—those wounds licked alone in countless nights, those tears shed silently in places where no one could see, those longings he dared not speak of—perfectly and seamlessly overlapped with the small figure in the deepest part of his memory, who always liked to hide behind his cloak, tugging at his hem, and who would only stubbornly redden his eyes without crying even when suffering great grievances!

What Core Formation Peak, what Taiji Bagua Diagram Dao Rhyme, what eldest imperial prince, what future Foundation of the nation... All these external halos and heavy identities vanished at this moment, becoming meaningless.

Before his eyes—there was only his nephew.

The most precious flesh and blood left in this desolate world by his only, early-deceased younger sister.

The child he had once knelt before his sister's spirit—on that night of bleak wind and rain, in that mourning hall where everyone else had left—and swore to protect with his life and everything.

The child who, due to the trickery of fate and conspiracy, had been helplessly separated for long years, the child who made his heart ache day and night, gnawing at him with guilt.

"Zhan... xian..." Xuanyuan Zhandao's throat felt as if it were blocked by the coarsest bitter bile and the most scorching lava simultaneously.

His voice was hoarse and broken, every word seeming to carry blood foam, squeezed out from the deepest part of his chest, from the most painful part of his Soul!

Having fought for half a life!

Having seen mountains of corpses and seas of blood, having long ago tempered his tear glands to be colder and harder than ten-thousand-year black iron, believing he had long forgotten what it was like to weep—this Great General Shenwu of the nation!

At this moment—his eye sockets instantly turned red as blood!

Scalding liquid could no longer be controlled, surging, gathering, blurring that sharp vision honed by countless battles!

Those tears slid silently down his weathered cheeks, dripping onto the cold black armor, splashing up imperceptible droplets.

He forgot the etiquette of being an envoy, forgot where he was, forgot what terrifying existences were around him!

Almost purely relying on the most primitive, most instinctive power deep within his Bloodline—that power engraved in his bones, indelible, older than any cultivation—he stumbled and hurried forward a few steps!

That pace was staggering and eager, not at all the composure a Mahayana warrior should have.

Looking up at the figure in the sky who could not stop crying, he tremblingly reached out those rough, large hands that had once gripped war spears and slaughtered countless enemies!

Those hands, which had once crushed the heads of enemies, had fought in and out of mountains of corpses and seas of blood, and had been stained with blood countless times.

At this moment, they were trembling slightly, as if they could not bear such heavy emotions.

As if he wanted to reach across this unreachable distance and personally wipe away the scalding tear stains on that young face.

In his voice was endless, almost overflowing excitement and ecstasy—it was heart-piercing and bone-gnawing cherishing—it was the heavy, long-overdue, mountain-like guilt that almost crushed him—every word seemed to be gouged out from the deepest part of his heart, from the most painful part of his Soul, carrying blood, carrying tears, carrying twenty years of longing and remorse: "It's Uncle... It's Uncle who has come!"

"Good child... Uncle is here! Uncle has come to pick you up!"

"All these years... you alone... you have suffered!"

The last sentence was almost roared out, with a trembling sound of blood and tears, carrying the heaviest guilt and heartache a battle-hardened general could bear, echoing on the mountain Peak, echoing in the sea of clouds, echoing in everyone's heart: "It's Uncle who is useless! It's Uncle who came too late!!"

That voice made the mountains fall silent, made the sea of clouds freeze, and made everyone present—even those peerless powerhouses who had seen all the joys and sorrows of the world—moved.

Chu Changsheng stood quietly to the side.

He took in the entire scene of this uncle and nephew finally reuniting after crossing life and death, separation, and conspiracy.

His gaze was as deep as the sea, as if it could see through all the joys and sorrows, partings and reunions, and the arising and ceasing of karmic connections in the world.

A trace of profound understanding of the warmth and coldness of the world, and the gathering and scattering of human life, flashed in his eyes—that was the kind of understanding one only has after seeing the changing of the world and seeing through the cycle of life and death.

Immediately, that understanding turned into a faint, gentle, and tolerant look, like the warm sun of early spring melting the last piece of hard ice.

He did not disturb them.

Only—his plain white sleeves, as if brushed by the gentlest mountain breeze, flicked lightly, naturally and without leaving a trace.

An intangible, quality-less, yet containing supreme Dao Rhyme, gentle barrier, like a warm embrace, quietly emerged from the void, gently shrouding this small piece of heaven and earth that carried the reunion of close kin.

It quietly isolated the swirling clouds and mist, the passing of time, and all sounds from the outside.

Inside the barrier—the flow of time seemed to be imbued with infinite compassion and tenderness, becoming slow, long, and solemn.

The hustle and bustle of the outside world, the majesty of the immortal Sect, the future storms, the heavy responsibilities on their shoulders... everything was temporarily blocked out.

Here and now—only that pure-to-the-extreme blood kinship that had traversed life and death, separation, conspiracy, and the long river of time—in the silent rolling of scalding tears and the trembling, hoarse, sobbing calls—crossed the distance of space—and held each other tightly.

The mountain wind whined and lingered outside the barrier, rolling the sea of clouds, like the never-ending flow of the long river of time.

Inside the barrier—all was silent.

Only that warm current, thicker than water, enough to smooth out all scars, quietly washed and cleansed all the coldness, loneliness, and trauma left by the past years.

Silent.

Yet it surpassed all the thunderous roars in the world.

Reaching directly into the deepest part of the Soul—deafening.