Into the Mountains

Yun Ji, Yun Long, Shi Tie, and Li Pinghu formed an inconspicuous little team.

Li Pinghu's cultivation had already reached the peak of the Xiantian realm, while Shi Tie and Yun Ji were both capable experts in the middle stage of the Xiantian realm.

After taking up the Xiantian Gong, Yun Ji's strength had greatly improved. Without using the Golden Bell Shield, Yun Long probably would not last more than a few moves against him.

Though Yun Long looked young, his combat strength was quite remarkable. Ordinary middle-stage Xiantian martial artists might not necessarily be his match.

On Lingyue Martial Arts School's side, although its headmaster Li Pinghu was among them, the three Xiantian martial artists under him wisely did not follow along.

They understood that for such a grueling task as searching the mountains for ruins, the Ninth Prince would absolutely not allow these hastily assembled Xiantian teams to have too many members.

What he wanted was to cast a wide net, piling up numbers against that faint possibility of success.

As for these Xiantian martial artists, they were merely chess pieces in his hand. If they died, they died. A great figure like the Ninth Prince Fang Yuanhua would not even blink.

Beyond Nanshan Town, Fang Yuanhua had this time forcibly conscripted every Xiantian martial artist from no fewer than eight towns.

The crowd was a dark, teeming mass, with the total number actually exceeding two hundred.

Before entering the mountains, Fang Yuanhua had uncharacteristically been "generous" for once, distributing weapons stored in the government armory to these martial artists, who were no different from weeds in his eyes.

"Those bottomless vermin in the government have been quick-witted this time. They know how to watch the wind and steer the sail, and they don't dare use inferior goods to fool the Ninth Prince."

Shi Tie rummaged through the pile of weapons with hands as broad as palm-leaf fans and spoke in a deep voice.

His eye was sharp, and he quickly picked out four fine sabers gleaming with cold light for everyone.

The blades were straight, their edges carrying a faint blue sheen. They had clearly been carefully forged from hundred-tempered steel.

"Old Yun, you know these mountains better than any of us. Once we enter, we'll follow all your orders." Li Pinghu took the long saber, his tone solemn.

Shi Tie weighed the saber in his hand, feeling its familiar heaviness and chill, then added in a rumbling voice, "That's right. I'm a blacksmith, Old Li runs a martial arts school—once we get into those deep mountains and old forests, whether we can come out whole will all depend on you, Old Yun."

Yun Ji accepted the saber, his fingers habitually brushing over its icy blade as his deep gaze turned toward the dark green mountains in the distance.

"I've hunted in these mountains for most of my life. What wolves, tigers, and leopards haven't I seen? But as for these so-called 'ruins,' I haven't even caught a shadow of them."

There was a trace of hoarseness in his voice.

"You'd all better keep yourselves on high alert. I'm afraid this matter isn't so simple."

Yun Long, however, was somewhat dismissive. He patted the hilt at his waist and grinned. "Dad, we'll just search the mountains properly. What else can happen?"

"Besides, with the strength of the four of us, could there really be any beast in these mountains that could hurt us?"

"Shut that filthy mouth of yours!" Yun Ji suddenly turned, his gaze sharp as a blade, making Yun Long shrink his neck.

"You brain-simple idiot whose limbs are more developed than your mind! Do you really think they brought you here to swagger around?"

"Why don't you use that elmwood head of yours and think? The imperial court has mobilized with such fanfare, and the Ninth Prince is personally overseeing this. Would they lack a few 'crooked melons and split dates' like us to fill out the scene?"

The chill in Yun Ji's voice seemed to lower the temperature of the surrounding air by several degrees.

Seeing this, Li Pinghu hurriedly patted Yun Long's shoulder and smoothed things over. "Yes, Old Yun is right. This matter is absolutely not as easy as it looks on the surface."

"Ah Long, your experience is still shallow. You need to listen more, watch more, and learn more."

Yun Ji's face was so dark it seemed water could drip from it.

This son of his truly possessed martial talent rarely seen in the Lineage for a hundred years.

But when it came to judging people and understanding the world, he was as simple as a blank sheet of paper, so immature that it made Yun Ji anxious.

Now, with him as the father constantly keeping Yun Long in check and teaching him at every turn, he could still restrain him somewhat.

But Yun Ji would eventually grow old. There would come a day when he let go of this world.

When that time came, if the Yun Clan truly grew somewhat stronger in his hands, how could Yun Long, with a temperament like this, shoulder the Household's legacy?

Was Yun Ji supposed to watch helplessly as those old, scheming men gnawed him until not even his bones remained?

At the thought, Yun Ji felt as though a massive boulder were pressing on his heart, heavy and suffocating.

"Ah..."

He sighed inwardly and once again cast his gaze toward the distant mountain forest, where danger lurked on all sides.

"I only hope that this trip into the mountains will give you brat a ruthless lesson in cruel reality."

"Let you truly understand that the hearts of men in this world are far more complicated and perilous than you imagine."

"Let all that impractical pride and naivety of yours be thrown the hell away!"

Yun Ji roared inwardly.

Only then could Yun Long truly grow up, and perhaps in the future shoulder the responsibility that belonged to him.

After being scolded by his father from head to toe, Yun Long's face burned.

Yet this time, remarkably, he did not feel the slightest resentment, nor did he crane his neck and argue back.

His father's every word seemed to carry bone-piercing cold, instantly sobering him up considerably.

He lowered his head, appearing to admit his mistake, but in truth, thoughts churned through his mind, far less calm than he seemed.

The Ninth Prince, conscription, ruins...

Those words circled in his mind, linking together the solemn expressions of his father and Uncle Li.

He vaguely understood.

Ever since he had come into contact with that mysterious Family Genealogy and accepted that weighty inheritance, the Yun Clan had ceased to be the ordinary hunter Household of Nanshan Town.

A responsibility he had never truly understood before had quietly settled onto his shoulders.

The Lineage's future and the lives and deaths of its members might all be closely tied to his every word and action.

He could no longer be as rash and impulsive as before, much less so naive and foolish.

This time, he had to be on one hundred and twenty thousand percent alert.

He had to learn, to watch, and to firmly remember every word his father said.

He secretly clenched his fists, his nails digging deep into his palms and bringing a sting of sobering pain.

At that moment, the pride of a frog at the bottom of a well in the young man's heart quietly shattered at one corner.

Within the deep, dim Family Genealogy, Yun Jiang's will lingered quietly like a wisp of smoke.

He "listened" to the interwoven thoughts of the father and son outside.

Yun Ji's profound worry, Yun Long's sudden awakening.

A faint trace of approval quietly surfaced within his incorporeal spirit.

"This child can be taught; there is still hope for him."

Yet this brief comfort was soon replaced by a deeper sense of helplessness.

He was now merely an imprisoned spectator-player. His usual enjoyment was nothing more than entertaining himself.

How the gears of the Lineage's fate turned was already beyond his ability to interfere with in the slightest.

The Yun Clan's future now rested entirely upon the four somewhat frail shoulders in those mountains.

A hint of coldness rippled through Yun Jiang's consciousness.

If... if the Yun Clan's line truly ended and its bloodline vanished...

Would he, the player who had started this game, this wisp of wandering soul, also be like a dying candle in the wind and utterly disappear?

Then the destruction of the Lineage would mean eternal nothingness to him.

It would be a losing end that could never be replayed, an outcome he was unwilling even to imagine, much less dare gamble on.

The Yun Clan of today was simply far too weak.

Its strength was feeble, unable to withstand a single blow.

Its numbers were few, making it difficult to continue.

How could this count as a Lineage?

It was merely a tiny Household struggling to hold itself together amid wind and rain.

Those true great clans in the history of his previous life, those colossal beings that had stood in the world for centuries and millennia.

Which one had not been deeply rooted and luxuriantly branched, with profound foundations?

Which one had not been like a cunning rabbit with three burrows, maneuvering among every faction to seek the greatest chance of survival and benefit for its Lineage?

The Yun Clan now found even the most basic self-preservation so difficult.

"I only hope this crisis can also become a true turning point..."