174: Chapter 174 Farewell to the Ruins

You gather these fragments one by one, already having a judgment in your heart. This is not a complete inheritance, but merely fragments; the truly complete part is likely with someone else.

The three fruits are fully digested, and you open your eyes.

The entire process actually lasted less than half an incense stick of time, but the changes within your body have been earth-shattering.

The three great inheritances brought not only knowledge and insights but also a pure accumulation of energy, surging, compressing, and refining within your meridians.

Your immortal energy begins to circulate autonomously, faster and faster, as if pushed by an invisible hand, rushing toward a certain critical point.

The bottleneck of the Early True Immortal stage is right there.

You do not suppress it, directly opening up all your meridians.

There is no heavenly tribulation within the Return to Ruins; breaking through does not require undergoing tribulation, only sufficient accumulation and insight. And what the three great inheritances have given you already far exceeds the accumulation required for a breakthrough.

Boom!

A muffled sound comes from deep within your sea of consciousness, like a thick layer of ice being smashed through.

Immortal energy surges out from your meridians, re-condensing, compressing, and purifying in your dantian.

The quality is a whole level higher than before; every strand of immortal energy is more refined and purer.

Your primordial spirit opens its eyes in your sea of consciousness; its form is more than twice as solid as before, with clear features and bright eyes.

Mid-stage True Immortal, secured.

You exhale a breath of murky air, feeling the surging new power within your body, and clench your fist.

From the Early True Immortal stage to the Mid-stage True Immortal stage, it may seem like only a one-stage difference, but the qualitative change in immortal energy is geometric.

If you were to face that Early True Immortal bottleneck again now, you could shatter it with one punch.

You raise your head and look at the golden crystal at the top of the tree.

Yan Qingwei is watching you. Her gaze falls across ten thousand years of time, containing relief, pride, and something you cannot clearly define.

Complexity flashes by, as if she remembered something that shouldn't be thought of at this moment.

"You have grown up," she says softly. It is the same thing she said before, but this time, there is an extra layer of something in her tone.

You know what that is. It is the complexity of watching a child surpass oneself. Ten thousand years ago, she was at the peak of an Immortal Emperor; ten thousand years later, her origin is exhausted, while her son is walking step by step toward the height she once stood at.

"Mom," you say, "wait for me to return."

Her figure blurs for a moment in the light; it is not consumption, but the things in your eye sockets acting up. You blink, pressing those things back.

"Go, Yuaner," her voice is already as light as fragmented light in the wind, "remember, no matter what you encounter, come back alive."

You nod, turn around, and do not look back.

Behind you, eighty-one phantom images slowly raise their hands—not to bid farewell, but to pay tribute.

The phantom of the Heavenly Sword Immortal Emperor is the brightest, and his old, hoarse voice rings out one last time: "Son of Xuan Xiao, the Return to Ruins has remembered you."

Under your feet is the path to leave; ahead is the exit of the Return to Ruins. You clutch the xuanxiao token in your bosom; the token is still warm, like your mother's gaze, pressed against your heart.

Three days. You have only one thought in your heart: within three days, find your father, or find a way to purify the source of chaos, and then bring your mother out of the Return to Ruins!

That is decided.

You walk back along the path you came, passing through the empty streets of the ancient city, passing through those buildings that only have outlines left.

The ancient city remains quiet, and the blue-gray sky shows no change, but you know that the giant tree behind you is operating in another way.

The Chaotic Mist Body is already replacing the main formation eye, and the protective layer of the golden crystal is loosening.

As you walk out to the edge of the ancient city, a phantom image condenses and forms beside you.

It is a projection of Yan Qingwei, more transparent than what you saw in the tree heart earlier, but her features are clear and her eyes are gentle.

She does not speak, just walks side by side with you for a distance, then raises her hand and points forward.

"Go this way," she says, "several seal nodes on the path you came from have shifted because of the riot of the source of chaos; going back the original way will trigger a turbulence of space fragments. This route is a backup passage left behind by the Grave Keeper back then."

You follow beside her, watching her phantom flicker in the dim light of the passage.

Her posture while walking is very steady; every step seems to land on some invisible node, precise and composed.

You suddenly realize that this woman, ten thousand years ago, was not just someone's wife; she herself was a powerhouse standing at the peak of the Immortal World.

"Mom," you say.

"Hmm?"

"Is there really no way to let you leave temporarily? Even for a short while?"

Her steps pause for a moment, then she continues walking: "My soul, physical body, and cultivation have all become part of the seal. Unless you find a supreme treasure that can replace the main formation eye, or purify the source of chaos at its root, otherwise..." She shakes her head, "The moment I step out of the Return to Ruins, the seal will collapse."

"Some choices, once made, last a lifetime." She turns her head to look at you, a faint smile on the corner of her lips, so detached that it doesn't look like she is looking at her own son, so detached that your nose feels sore, "I do not regret it. I only hope that you and your father are safe."

You do not ask again. It is not that you do not want to ask, but you know that asking is useless.

She is not rejecting you; she is telling you the facts. And facts never need to ask for opinions.

The passage forks ahead, and she leads you into the narrow path on the right.

The walls on both sides of the narrow path are engraved with ancient formation patterns; some have faded until they are almost invisible, but the structure still remains.

"This backup passage was engraved by your father himself," she says, her fingertips gently brushing over a piece of the formation pattern, "He said, in case something happens to the seal, at least he should leave a way out for his own people. Later, he left too hurriedly and didn't get to use it."

"I used it for him."

There is no resentment or grievance in her tone, only a statement. But you hear ten thousand years in that flatness.

A road was engraved, the person who engraved it did not walk it, and the person waiting for the road walked it for ten thousand years.

"Mom," you change the question, "Big brother, second brother... have you seen them?"

Yan Qingwei's phantom pauses for a moment, then continues walking: "I have not seen them directly. But the Grave Keeper sends messages in periodically."

She is silent for a few breaths, as if organizing the order of narration, then speaks: "After your father was framed, he chose self-exile. He faked his death to draw away the pursuers, and before leaving, he entrusted his old subordinates and your two older brothers to an old friend, the first leader of the Grave Keeper."