Ancestral Hall

Back in the grand, brightly lit main hall, Meng Jizu and Meng Hongdao had calmed down considerably, yet they still held Meng Zhao's hand and talked without pause, mainly asking how he had lived these past years.

The rest of the Meng Family sat quietly to the side, either sipping tea or conversing in low voices. No one interrupted. They clearly understood that today's protagonist was Meng Zhao, and could only be Meng Zhao.

Meng Zhao had written letters to the family before, but the distance was too great, and the correspondence had been intermittent. The Meng Family had remained deeply concerned and worried about his life in Jade Capital, afraid that he might be bullied or suffer grievances.

Meng Zhao was composed and calm, showing no resentment toward his past life. Instead, he mostly spoke of approval, saying,

"Eldest Uncle and Third Uncle need not worry over your nephew. Great Compassion Temple is an imperial temple. Though life there was dull, it was not harsh. On the contrary, I made many friends and received much tempering.

"Moreover, I now hold an official position, so it has not all been for nothing. At the very least, I can be of use to the family."

Meng Jizu nodded repeatedly, delight in his eyes.

"That is exactly right. Zhao'er's identity as a Heavenly Gang Guard was bestowed by the Great Emperor himself, corresponding to a Heavenly Gang star position in the Upper Realm. It is far from ordinary. No matter what you do in the future, with this status, you will avoid much trouble and need not be constrained at every turn."

They had not spoken for long when a servant came to report that the luncheon was ready and invited everyone to dine.

This was a family meal, so naturally it was neither especially formal nor extravagant.

Still, eating around the same table made it feel exceptionally warm.

The two brothers of the eldest branch, who usually loved stirring up trouble, were remarkably docile this time and did not dare cause any mischief.

The meal passed amid laughter and harmony, with the family united and at peace.

After the meal, everyone else was sent away. Meng Jizu alone brought Meng Zhao into the ancestral hall.

The ancestral hall stood in the north-central area of Meng Mansion. It was a four-courtyard ancestral complex, with an ancestral gate, ceremonial gate, offering hall, rear hall, and connecting corridors, while layer upon layer of guards stood watch around it.

From the outside alone, it was built with solemn grandeur and majestic dignity, carrying the weighty sense of history.

The materials had been chosen with great care. The wood was all top-grade Snow Fir Wood and Black Spirit Wood, while the bricks and stones were the renowned southern Soul-Calming Stone. Every brick, every tile, every blade of grass and tree displayed the bearing of a great clan.

This was, after all, the place where the souls of their ancestors and forebears rested in peace. There could not be the slightest negligence.

Once they entered the offering hall, the light immediately dimmed, and the air was filled with dryness and the faint scent of incense and candles.

Red paper couplets were pasted onto the pillars on either side of the doors. The upper line read: "Ancestral merit and virtue leave their fragrance far and wide." The lower line read: "Filial sons and worthy grandsons extend the family's blessings through the ages." The calligraphy was vigorous, upright, and weighty, neat yet broad-minded, carrying a naturally majestic and solemn air.

On the central altar table stood rows of spirit tablets, each paired with a portrait. Most had been painted by renowned masters of their day. At the very top was the origin of the Meng Clan, the first Earl of Nan'an, Meng Shentong.

The final tablet belonged to Meng Zhao's father in this life, Meng Zhengan.

By then, Meng Jizu had changed into clean, solemn robes. Upon arriving at the offering hall, he said to Meng Zhao,

"Zhao'er, kneel."

Meng Zhao did not hesitate. He knelt to the ground, lowering his head with a solemn expression.

His knees and lower legs rested on a soft bright-yellow cushion as he listened to Meng Jizu pray to the Meng Family's ancestors.

The entire prayer was couched in ornate classical language. Put plainly, it said that Meng Zhao, a descendant of the Meng Family, had lost both father and mother in childhood. Then, by the Great Emperor's decree, he had left home for ten years, wandering in a foreign land without anyone to rely on—a life fraught with misfortune.

Now that he had returned to the family, they hoped the spirits of their ancestors would bless Meng Zhao with peace and prosperity in the years ahead, allowing him to spread his wings and achieve great ambitions.

It was the most sincere and beautiful hope and blessing they could offer him. At the same time, it allowed the ancestral spirits to witness his return.

After saying this, Meng Jizu had Meng Zhao rise. With the help of a slightly plump old man, the two began offering incense.

At this step, Meng Zhao was especially earnest and solemn, not daring to show the slightest neglect.

He was not truly Meng Zhao, but a visitor from another world.

Before these forebears of the Meng Family, whether their heroic spirits truly watched from above or not, he still treated them with utmost reverence.

Silently, he said in his heart,

"Ancestors of the Meng Family above, I came from another world. I was originally a nameless Beggar with neither surname nor family. By a twist of fate, I inherited the name Meng Zhao.

"Today, witnessed by all of you, I become a son of the Meng Family. I will offer sacrifices and incense to you, ensuring that the Meng Family's line never ends.

"In the future, I will surely spread the name Meng Zhao across the land..."

Using this special place and moment, he was completely firming his path forward and severing himself from his previous life.

From this moment onward, he was the true Meng Zhao, no longer anyone else.

He also believed that if, one day, he could lead the Meng Family to a status equal to the Nine Surnames—or even greater—then even if these ancestors learned his true identity, they would not care.

Only after all this was done did Meng Jizu's expression soften. His gaze fell upon the final spirit tablet, and he said with a sigh,

"Zhao'er, do you know what I was thinking when the family received the Great Emperor's decree, ordering you to recite scriptures and pray for blessings in Great Compassion Temple for ten full years?"

Meng Zhao shook his head, then nodded again, answering carefully,

"Your nephew does not know, but... perhaps you felt great heartache."

Meng Jizu smiled faintly. A trace of gentleness appeared on his hard face as he nodded.

"That is right. You were so little back then, yet you had to suffer such a thing. Of course I was heartbroken.

"But beyond heartache, there was even more guilt—rage at my own helplessness, yet all I could do was endure it.

"Here, your eldest uncle must apologize to you and say that I am sorry.

"I failed your father. I did not take proper care of you."

By the end, his expression was filled with desolation. To say such words in such an environment and at such a moment, Meng Zhao believed that Meng Jizu truly meant them, without the slightest concealment.

A thread of emotion rose in Meng Zhao's heart. He comforted him,

"Eldest Uncle need not dwell on it. As the saying goes, life and death are decreed by fate, wealth and honor by Heaven. Some things are not for us to decide. Besides, in your nephew's view, this was also a kind of tempering. It may not have been a bad thing.

"If not for those ten years, your nephew might have become some frivolous young master or wastrel in Nan'an Commandery City. Then Eldest Uncle and Third Uncle would be the ones with headaches."

There might have been some embellishment in those words.

From what he had seen so far, the Meng Family's younger generation was outstanding. Meng Xi, Meng Wen, and Meng Chuan, whom he had just met, might all have flaws and shortcomings, and the habits of aristocratic young masters, but their abilities were beyond question.

It was clear that the Meng Family had an excellent method of education.

Setting everything else aside, if Meng Zhao had not received empowerment and transmission of cultivation, as well as the divine Sky-Illuminating Mirror, then in martial cultivation alone, he would have directly wasted the ten most precious years of his life. His future achievements would have been limited, and his entire life would have been delayed.

Meng Jizu naturally knew that Meng Zhao was trying to comfort him, which only made him more gratified. He reached out and patted Meng Zhao's shoulder.

"Good child, you are very sensible. I believe that if your father saw what you are like now, he would certainly be very happy."