172: Chapter 172 Facing the Battle

Once the group from the Wang family left, the tense, sword-drawn atmosphere in the hall finally dissipated.

Yet the air grew even heavier, like the oppressive twilight before a thunderstorm.

The servants moved nimbly to clean up the mess on the floor.

Shattered teacups, overturned stools...

And the few spots of dark red blood that the Family Head, Zhou Yi, had just coughed up onto the blue bricks.

No one dared to speak loudly; even their breathing was cautious, for fear of inviting misfortune.

Chen Zilong remained standing where he was, unmoving.

He could feel gazes coming at him from all directions—curious, suspicious, reverent, and also a bit...

At a loss.

For ten years, he had been a shadow in the Zhou Family, a Guard captain with a bit more strength than most.

Today's events had completely stripped away that disguise.

Supported by others, Zhou Yi sat back down in the main seat.

His face was ashen, and his chest was still heaving slightly.

However, those eyes, which were originally somewhat cloudy, were now terrifyingly bright.

He stared fixedly at Chen Zilong, as if trying to see through him from the inside out.

Beside him was Su Ling—Zhou Xiao's mother, a woman who usually managed the household with a gentle grace.

At this moment, she had also lost her composure, wringing a handkerchief in her hands as she looked at her husband and then her daughter.

Finally, her gaze also fell upon Chen Zilong, filled with complex and indescribable emotions.

And what about Zhou Xiao?

She was still standing in the spot where she had shielded Chen Zilong earlier, her back to him, her shoulders trembling slightly as if she were desperately trying to calm herself.

After a long while, she slowly turned around.

That elegant face was still pale, but her reddened eyes were no longer shedding tears.

They were merely hollow, as if her soul had been drained away.

She looked at Chen Zilong, her lips quivering, her voice so dry it didn't sound like her own:

“So... Zilong, you...”

She paused, seemingly unsure of how to address him, before finally biting her lower lip and switching to a more distant and formal title, “...Senior. Have you been hiding your strength all this time?”

As the word 'Senior' was uttered, the hall fell silent once again.

Even Zhou Yi sat up slightly straighter.

Chen Zilong sighed inwardly.

What must come, will come.

He walked over to an intact chair nearby and sat down directly, without any ceremony.

A quick-witted servant immediately ran over to offer him hot tea.

He picked up the white porcelain lidded bowl, lifted the lid, and blew away the tea leaves floating on top. The rising steam blurred the expression on his face.

“It wasn't exactly hiding,”

He took a sip of tea—the flavor was ordinary, with a hint of aged bitterness—“It's just that you never asked, and I didn't think it was something worth mentioning specifically.”

“It's just a title; it's not that important.”

He spoke nonchalantly, as if ten years of disguise and the solemn treatment by a Nascent Soul Elder were nothing more than a trivial matter.

“How can you say that!”

Su Ling immediately interjected, her voice carrying an urgent sense of apology.

She stood up herself and picked up the teapot to refill Chen Zilong's cup, her movements somewhat flustered. “Zilong... no, Fellow Daoist Chen, it is the honor of our Zhou Family to have you staying with us. We have truly neglected you all these years; we were blind to your greatness.”

She spoke with sincere honesty, yet there was also a deep sense of unease.

With such an unfathomable 'god' hidden in her home, she had no idea whether it was a blessing or a curse.

Chen Zilong waved his hand, his tone remaining flat:

“Madam, you overstate it. If anything, it is I who should apologize for staying at your esteemed residence to heal my injuries without clarifying the reasons to the hosts beforehand.”

His words were half-true.

The healing was real, but back then he had signed a Guard contract—it was a transaction, not exactly 'staying as a guest'.

Saying it this way was merely giving both parties a way to save face.

The long-silent Zhou Yi let out a heavy sigh, a sound that seemed squeezed from the depths of his lungs, carrying the sluggishness of a long-standing illness and a deep sense of powerlessness.

“Fellow Daoist Chen...”

He spoke, his voice hoarse, “As you have seen, my Zhou Family is now... sigh...”

He stopped halfway, leaving only a shake of his head and more violent coughing.

Everyone understood what he wanted to say.

It was nothing more than the clan's decline, being surrounded by powerful enemies, and facing precarious times.

But for him, a Family Head and a father, to say these words to an 'outsider'—a 'Fellow Daoist' who had suddenly revealed unfathomable strength—and beg for help?

He couldn't bring himself to do it, and he feared that by speaking up, he would truly be staking the Zhou Family's final shred of dignity on the gambling table.

Chen Zilong slowly set down his teacup. The porcelain base hit the table with a crisp 'ding'.

He naturally saw Zhou Yi's unspoken words and understood the despair nearly overflowing from Zhou Xiao's eyes.

Reason told him not to get involved, to quickly settle this matter, take the agreed-upon reward, and leave.

His path lay in the Pill Mansion, as an Eighth-Grade Alchemist, and with the sleeping Tu Shan Xiaoxiao in the ice coffin.

What did the survival of the Zhou Family or Wang Bufan's arrogance have to do with him, Chen Zilong?

But...

He looked up, his gaze sweeping across Zhou Yi's ashen face, Su Ling's tightly wringing hands, and finally landing on Zhou Xiao's face.

She was biting her lower lip so hard it was almost bleeding.

Her eyes were bloodshot and filled with tears, yet she stubbornly refused to let them fall.

That look was hollow, desperate, and carried a deathly silence as if she had accepted her fate.

Ten years of time, countless mornings and twilights, her cold or occasionally concerned greetings, her subtle expression when she took the roasted meat by the campfire that night on Hugang Mountain...

These images flashed uncontrollably through his mind.

“Damn it.”

Chen Zilong cursed inwardly.

It was always like this.

His mind understood everything perfectly.

Yet his body and certain inexplicable emotions always reacted first.

It was true when he stood in front of her, and it was true when he accepted Wang Bufan's challenge.

“I will go to the match in three days.”

He spoke, his voice not loud, but clearly reaching everyone's ears. “I will also do my best. You don't need to worry too much.”

He paused, turning his gaze toward Zhou Xiao, his tone taking on a hint of almost cruel calmness. “However, Miss Zhou, there are some things I must say upfront.”

“You can hide for a while, but you can't hide forever.”

“If I defeat Wang Bufan, it might resolve the immediate crisis, but the pressure from the Xuan Yin Sect and the greed of the Wang family won't disappear because of it.”

“I... cannot stay in the Zhou Family forever.”

These words were like a cold awl, piercing through the composure Zhou Xiao was barely maintaining.

Her whole body jolted, and the tears in her eyes finally couldn't be held back, rolling down in large droplets.

She didn't make a sound, merely gritting her teeth and letting the tears trace paths down her pale cheeks.

The light in her pupils dimmed at a visible rate, until only a bottomless pit of despair and confusion remained.

Yes, Chen Zilong was right.

Even if he defeated Wang Bufan, so what?

Would that 'Elder Yin Sha' of the Xuan Yin Sect just let it go?

Would the Wang family give up their plans to annex the Zhou Family and seize her 'Ice Marrow Spirit Body'?

No.

All the struggling seemed only to delay the inevitable conclusion.

And that conclusion was already foreordained.