No one knew a father better than his son. He knew Chen Nianzhi's character well—once he made a decision, nothing could shake it.
Seeing this, Chen Xianchang settled for second best and said, "This time, your son is going down the mountain. I wonder what generous gifts Father has prepared for me."
"Hmph, you little rascal!"
Chen Nianzhi snorted, then turned his gaze toward Chen Xianzhu.
With a flick of his sleeve, he drew an iron staff from within and tossed it to Chen Xianchang.
"Xianzhu, as the eldest son, you have listened to my teachings at my side for a hundred years. I have already taught you all that I should."
At this point, his voice paused slightly.
Only after a moment did he continue, "Now that you are setting out alone upon the path of cultivation, I have nothing much to give you. Other than this iron staff, all I can leave you is this world."
"I hope you will carry it as you walk through this vast and mighty world, and carve out a Path to Immortality with your own hands."
Chen Xianzhu raised his head and looked at the figure before him.
In his eyes, that snow-white figure stood with his hands behind his back, his tall frame wreathed in immortal aura, as majestic as an unrivaled Immortal King.
For no reason, towering pride surged within Chen Xianzhu's heart. The dragon patterns on his body trembled, radiating an incomparably domineering true intent.
In an instant, Chen Xianzhu dropped to his knees, accepted the iron staff, and said, "In the end, one must walk one's own road."
"Your son understands."
Seeing Chen Xianzhu's expression, Chen Nianzhi could not help but nod.
A dragon begot a dragon, a phoenix begot a phoenix. His eldest son possessed an upright