The Ancestral Rites

After the ancestral rites came the year-end family feast. Just as the whole family was happily celebrating the New Year, Sanbao collapsed onto the dining table.

Sanbao had fallen ill.

In the side room, Sanbao lay weakly in bed.

"Father, I think Third Brother's health is in a terrible state. Why don't we find a good doctor to examine him? If nothing else, we could use spiritual power to cleanse his meridians." Second Brother, Luo Kaiyu, had never known the truth about Sanbao's condition. Seeing how frail he was, Luo Kaiyu asked worriedly.

"We consulted a famous doctor before coming to Deer Mountain. Sanbao has a strange illness that prevents him from cultivating spiritual power. It doesn't need treatment; he'll recover on his own in time. It should last about a year. Once that year is over, he'll be perfectly fine, so there's no need for anyone to worry..." In front of everyone, Old Luo had naturally prepared his explanation long ago.

"So that's why Third Uncle paints every day. He can't cultivate spiritual power. Poor Third Uncle," Caiguang said, finally understanding.

In a world where Spirit Cultivators ruled, those unable to cultivate spiritual power were destined to live like ants. Caiguang felt an immense pity for his uncle, who was two years younger than him.

"I'm afraid Sanbao might not make it through the year. Just look at his condition..." The eldest brother, Luo Kaifeng, knew Sanbao's true identity, but that only made him worry about Sanbao's health even more.

Old Luo said nothing, but his concern ran deeper than anyone else's.

On the night Sanbao came to Deer Mountain, Old Luo had already begun to think of him as his own son. Over the past six months, Sanbao's actions had completely won him over.

Old Luo even found himself imagining that one day, Sanbao might truly lead the Luo Clan back to the pinnacle of the continent.

Spring came, and flowers bloomed in a riot of color.

It should have been the most beautiful season of the year, but for Sanbao, spring was anything but easy.

As the days passed, Sanbao's health worsened. His emaciated body, pale face, and deeply sunken eyes left him looking like nothing but skin stretched over bones.

At first, Sanbao insisted on painting every day. As his health declined, he had to rest for a day after every few days of painting. Later, he rested every other day. In recent days, he often had to rest for two days after just one day of painting.

"Third Master, let's go back~"

Watching Sanbao grow thinner by the day, Meimei was heartbroken. She couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was going to happen.

At this rate, Third Master won't make it to winter. And he doesn't take care of himself at all. He grits his teeth and keeps carving in the back hills. What I can't understand is the family head and the others. Third Master's this sick, yet they don't ask after him, and they haven't even had a doctor examine him...

Meimei was too innocent to know all the details about Sanbao. She could only worry in silence about her frail master.

Thud.

Sanbao collapsed to the ground.

Meimei reacted in a flash, gently scooping Sanbao into her arms. As she hurried toward the back courtyard, she looked down at her master, so light he seemed almost weightless, and her eyes grew red.

"Third Master, why put yourself through this?"

The days passed in hardship. A whole year had gone by, and just when Sanbao thought he was about to be reborn from the ashes, his illness suddenly took a turn for the worse. This time, the entire Luo Clan panicked, and even Sanbao himself was frightened.

According to Thirteen's estimate, the Crimson Flame Eagle's blood should have been completely assimilated into Sanbao's body by now, and his innate bloodline should have awakened. But it was clear that the process had taken longer than Thirteen anticipated; one year hadn't been enough.

Sanbao had held on this long through sheer force of will, but the situation had gone beyond what he could endure. Even he no longer knew if he could make it to the end.

By then, Sanbao could no longer get out of bed. He drifted in and out of consciousness, awake for only one or two hours a day and unconscious the rest of the time.

The family head, Luo Dingyi, showed the bearing of a true patriarch. He kept watch in Sanbao's room every day and forbade anyone from visiting. His only explanation was that Sanbao was getting better, and once he recovered, he would undergo a complete transformation. Everyone should stay calm and wait to see.

"Sanbao, you have to hold on. If anything happens to you, how will I ever face the Saint Ancestor—or Third Brother—again?"

Whether some unseen force was sustaining Sanbao or his soul had truly reached a certain level, no matter how weak his body grew or how long he remained unconscious, he always managed to wake for a while at sunrise.

This gave Old Luo, who stood guard at his side, boundless confidence. As long as Sanbao hadn't slipped into a sleep from which he would never wake, he would eventually return as a king.

Winter came. In the blink of an eye, Sanbao had spent six months in bed. He woke for shorter and shorter periods each morning, almost falling unconscious again as soon as he opened his eyes. Old Luo began to feel that something terrible was about to happen.

If Sanbao's bloodline didn't awaken soon, he would likely be gone before the year-end ancestral rites.

How would Old Luo explain himself to Thirteen? How would he face the Luo Clan's ancestors?

The day finally came.

Sanbao had been unconscious for three days. His faint heartbeat and breathing had grown so weak they were almost imperceptible, as if they might stop at any moment.

"Three days from now is New Year's Eve. Sanbao, can't you hold on until then?" Luo Dingyi murmured softly, his eyes bloodshot as he gently stroked Sanbao's frail body.

Sanbao had long since become horribly hunched. His limbs and torso had shriveled together, leaving little more than a skeleton, almost weightless.

The fourth day.

The fifth day.

The sixth day. Three days passed in a flash, and Sanbao remained unconscious.

On the morning of the seventh day, Luo Kaifeng, the eldest brother, gently pushed open Sanbao's door. Inside, Old Luo sat motionless beside the bed like a wooden statue. Sanbao looked lifeless, and even his breathing could no longer be detected.

"Father, today is the day of the ancestral rites. What should we do?" Luo Kaifeng asked softly.

"Sanbao, your uncle will take you to the ancestral rites..." Old Luo's eyes were sunken, his face pale. He gently gathered the completely motionless Sanbao against his chest...

"Father, is Sanbao still..." Luo Kaifeng glanced at Old Luo and trailed off.

"Let's go. We went to the ancestral rites together last year. This year, none of us will be left behind~" His father's answer sent a chill through Luo Kaifeng. With his cultivation, he could tell at a glance that Sanbao had stopped breathing.

Compared with last year, the ancestral hall felt unusually bleak. Everyone who was meant to be there had come, and every offering had been prepared, but the mood among them was utterly lifeless.

Sanbao had not been with them long, but Luo blood ran through his veins. Now they could only watch that small strand of their bloodline slip away. It was a cruel thing to witness.

"Ancestors of the Luo Clan, Dingyi has brought the family's descendants to pray before you. This year, this year..." Family head Luo Dingyi knelt on the ground. He had barely begun to speak when his voice faltered.

"This year..., the Luo Clan's affairs have gone smoothly enough, and every member of the Luo family has gained something. But my poor nephew Sanbao is gravely ill and may not live much longer. If the ancestors are watching over us, please protect him. If it's possible, I, Dingyi, would willingly give up twenty years of my life in exchange for my nephew waking up..."

As Luo Dingyi spoke, he laid Sanbao flat against his chest, then reached out and gently pressed his large hand against Sanbao's back.

Before Thirteen left, he had given one warning in particular: Sanbao's bloodline could only be activated by Sanbao himself. No outside force could help. If any external spiritual power entered his body, the consequences would be severe: at best, he would lose his bloodline forever; at worst, he would lose his life. That was the real reason the Luo Clan had seemed to "ignore" Sanbao's condition. It wasn't that they didn't want to help; they couldn't.

But now, without outside help, Sanbao's death seemed all but unavoidable. After weighing the options again and again, family head Luo Dingyi decided to try using spiritual power to help him. If it could save Sanbao's life, then losing his bloodline would be an unfortunate but unavoidable price. After all, if his life was gone, nothing else mattered.

The two most important parts of the human body were the brain and the heart meridians. The brain was where the soul resided, while the heart meridians sustained the entire body. Their function depended on the body's vital essence, blood, bone marrow, and the like.

(The heart meridians referred to the entire chest cavity, including the heart, liver, spleen, lungs, and other internal organs. For Spirit Cultivators, the Sea of Qi—also called the Dantian—sat at the very center below the heart meridians and was the source of spiritual power.) Sanbao's soul was fine. The biggest problem was that after the Blood Fusion, his body had changed too much, causing his vital essence, blood, bone marrow, and the rest to undergo tremendous changes. This directly affected the function of his heart meridians and was one of the main reasons Sanbao had fallen unconscious.

With his profound cultivation, Old Luo knew this well. He also knew that any external spiritual power entering Sanbao's body, especially his heart meridians, could trigger unpredictable consequences in the process of bodily change. But he had no other choice. He could only take the desperate gamble.

Under Old Luo's meticulous control, a thread of extremely faint spiritual power slowly entered Sanbao's body through the Governor Vessel below his neck, spreading through his body.

"Hm?"

As the spiritual power gradually entered, Old Luo's expression shifted in a way that was hard to describe. The meridians inside Sanbao's body were unexpectedly clear and unobstructed, almost meeting the requirements for entering the Spirit Entry realm.