Grievous News

Yao Chen's voice already carried a hint of pleading.

Yao Lan sighed again and shook his head.

That shake of his head was like a dull knife gouging straight into Yao Chen's heart.

Yao Chen felt the world spin. His legs gave way, and he staggered back two steps before his back slammed heavily into the jujube tree trunk, shaking several green leaves loose.

The color drained from his face in an instant, leaving it paper-white. His lips trembled, and his eyes were terrifyingly hollow.

"How could this be? How could this be? My mother... impossible. It can't be that there's no saving her..."

His voice grew lower and lower, as though he were muttering to himself, or desperately trying to convince himself.

What kind of place was the Medicine Clan? There were countless high-grade medicinal pills within the clan. Not to mention someone who still had a breath left—even someone whose breath had stopped could be revived, so long as their soul had not dispersed.

How could she be beyond saving? How could she?!

Two years ago, when his father passed away, the clan chief and elders had all been away. He and his mother had been alone and helpless, with no one to turn to.

But this time was different. This time, the elders were all here, and so was the clan chief. There was no reason they would not save his mother! No reason!

Seeing Yao Chen like this, a trace of pity flashed through Yao Lan's eyes. He slowly said, "It's a long story, Yao Chen. Come back to the clan with me. Luo Shan has returned and testified that he was the one who gave you the Flame Tiger Grass. The misunderstanding has been cleared up. Once you return, you only need to face the wall for one year, then..."

"Why?!"

Yao Chen suddenly roared, cutting Yao Lan off.

His eyes were red, yet no tears fell. What burned in those eyes was something far more scalding than tears.

His voice was hoarse and shrill as it echoed through the silent courtyard.

"Two years ago, no one saved my father. Now, two years later, no one is saving my mother either. Why should I return to a Medicine Clan like that?"

Yao Chen spoke one word at a time, each seeming to be squeezed out through clenched teeth, carrying the stench of blood.

Yao Lan opened his mouth, still wanting to say something. "Going back would be for your own good..."

"Elder Yao Lan." Before Yao Chen could reply this time, Lin Yu interrupted him.

Lin Yu's voice was calm, but beneath that calm lay a faintly unyielding attitude.

He stepped forward and positioned himself squarely in front of Yao Chen, shielding him behind his back. Looking Yao Lan directly in the eye, he said evenly, "Yao Chen has already agreed to go with me to Sacred Pill City. He will not be returning to the Medicine Clan."

He paused. His tone remained calm, but it gained a trace of chill. "If Elder Yao Lan truly wishes what is best for Yao Chen, then pretend you never saw either of us today. Otherwise—"

Those pitch-black eyes narrowed slightly as the aura of a Battle Spirit erupted from him without restraint. An invisible wave of force swept through the courtyard, sending the dead leaves on the ground flying in all directions.

"Elder Yao Lan may well fall here today."

Yao Lan's pupils contracted slightly. He could sense the aura emanating from this youth. It was absolutely not the oppressive presence an ordinary Battle Spirit could release.

The courtyard fell silent. Wind passed through the jujube tree, rustling its leaves.

Yao Lan remained silent for a long while before finally letting out a soft sigh. His gaze rested on Yao Chen for a moment, carrying reluctance, apology, and a faint, almost imperceptible relief.

After handing Yao Chen a Storage Ring, he slowly turned around. With his back to the two of them, his aged voice drifted over. "I understand."

With that, the figure in elder's robes stepped out through the courtyard gate. His footsteps were much heavier than when he had arrived, and step by step, he gradually disappeared into the end of the alley.

Only the sound of wind passing through leaves and Yao Chen's desperately suppressed breathing remained in the courtyard.

Lin Yu did not turn around to look at him. He merely gave Yao Chen's shoulder a heavy pat, then turned and walked into the house.

After Lin Yu left, the courtyard returned to silence.

A few leaves were blown loose by the wind. They spun down onto Yao Chen's shoulder before sliding to the ground.

He stood blankly beneath the tree like a stone statue, staring straight at the alley entrance where Elder Yao Lan had vanished. His fingers unconsciously clenched the Storage Ring in his palm, his knuckles turning pale from the force.

At that moment, Yao Chen had been wholly consumed by the devastating news of his mother's death. Dazed and muddled, as if something had hollowed out his soul, he only slowly came back to himself after Yao Lan's figure had completely disappeared around the corner.

He lowered his head and opened his palm. The Storage Ring lay quietly in it, cold to the touch, yet it burned his palm like a red-hot branding iron.

After opening the Storage Ring, Yao Chen opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

The space inside the Storage Ring was not large, but it was stuffed full.

At the very top sat dozens of jade bottles. The moment he removed their stoppers, a rich medicinal fragrance rushed into his nose. Most contained third-grade pills: Foundation-Nourishing Pills, Qi-Congealing Pills, Heart-Clearing Powder, all neatly arranged by category.

Beside them were several weapons: a short sword gleaming with icy light and a soft armor vest folded neatly away.

What drew Yao Chen's attention most, however, was a medicinal cauldron standing quietly in the depths of the Storage Ring.

The cauldron was only about half a foot tall and entirely made of bronze. Ancient flame patterns were carved across its body, while its three legs were shaped like crouching little beasts, emanating a faint, ethereal glow.

There was also a thin booklet, its cover bearing several neatly written words—Spiral Origin Battlefire Fist.

Yao Chen took the items out one by one and laid them out on the ground before him. Then he looked over them again, one by one.

His fingers gently brushed over each item, as though touching something immensely weighty.

The icy chill in his heart had not yet fully faded. His mother's death was like a sharp ice spike driven into the softest part of his heart.

Yet amid that coldness, a thread of warmth quietly seeped forth.

That warmth was faint, insignificant, yet it truly existed—like a dim oil lamp in a frigid night, one that no wind, however strong, could extinguish.

Not everyone in the Medicine Clan was heartless.

As an elder of the clan, Elder Yao Lan had his own position, his own helplessness. There were many things beyond his control, many ways in which he was powerless to help.

But he had come in the end. In the end, he had placed this Storage Ring into the hands of a youth abandoned by the clan.

Yao Chen's eyes stung, but he did not cry. He put each item back into the Storage Ring one by one, carefully slipped it onto his finger, and then picked up the Spiral Origin Battlefire Fist manual.

When he opened the first page, densely packed cultivation formulas came into view.

Yao Chen drew a deep breath and silently committed those formulas to memory.

Using the Three-Flower Gathering Flame Art as his foundation to comprehend the Spiral Origin Battlefire Fist, the previously obscure paths of battle qi circulation and methods of exerting force became as clear and natural as water flowing into its course.

Yao Chen turned the pages one after another, his gaze gradually shifting from confusion to focus.

Inside the house, Lin Yu was packing his belongings.

He had settled in South Cliff City all these years. Though he could not be called wealthy or influential, he had accumulated quite a few odds and ends.

Medicinal herbs, pill formulas, changes of clothes, and several strange little trinkets he had picked up from auction houses.

He placed everything he could take into his Storage Ring, sorting it neatly by category. Whatever he could not take, he left behind in this small courtyard.