Despised by the Living, His Path Paved by the Dead!

Outside the ancestral hall, the footsteps gradually faded away.

Wei Nisheng remained on his knees.

After all, he had long since grown used to kneeling in the ancestral hall...

Ever since he was four, whenever something "good" happened in the family,

he would be hauled here to "kneel in atonement."

Atone for what?

For bringing death upon his mother and kin.

Wei Nisheng remembered that the first time he was thrown in here was the year Wei Shouzheng began his schooling.

His father had hired a private tutor, set up an incense altar, paid homage to Confucius, and invited his colleagues to a banquet. It had been quite a celebration.

After the banquet ended, he had barely crawled under his quilt before someone dragged him out, hauled him all the way to the ancestral hall, and dumped him on the icy floor tiles.

He had been little then, afraid someone would come to check, so he forced himself to kneel all night.

By midnight, his knees had turned purple and gone stiff, but no one cared.

In the end, Wei An had secretly found his way there in the dark, carried him back, and spent half the night applying hot towels to his knees.

Later, Wei Nisheng figured it out.

Once everyone left, no one ever came back to check.

This so-called "kneeling in atonement" was nothing more than a formality, a show put on for the living.

So every time after that, he merely went through the motions.

This time was no exception.

As soon as the sounds outside vanished, Wei Nisheng promptly stood, bent his head to rub his knees, and stretched his legs a few times.

If no one checked, why kneel like a fool? This body was still growing. If he ruined his knees and left himself with a lifelong ailment, who would suffer the pain for him?

His father? Wei Shouzheng? Cui Shi?

They would love nothing more than for him to kneel until he was crippled.

Of course, even after standing, he did not rush to open the door and leave.

It was not time yet. If some loose-tongued servant spotted him outside now, word could reach Cui Shi in an instant, giving her another excuse to malign him.

So Wei Nisheng turned and surveyed the room where the Wei ancestors were enshrined.

The candlelight was dim, making the golden lettering on the spirit tablets flicker bright and dark, like countless eyes watching him from the shadows.

At the very top stood an ancient tablet, thick with dust, its inscription already somewhat blurred.

The Julu Wei had risen to prominence only two generations ago. Even the Wei Family led by Wei Zheng during Emperor Taizong of Tang's reign had already declined by the time Wu Zetian established her Zhou dynasty!

After that, trace the generations backward, and they were all mud-legged peasants.

His own grandfather, Wei Zheng, was the classic poor-family protagonist from the imperial examination novels of his previous life.

When he was young, his family had been too poor to keep the cooking pot filled. Hearing that education could change his fate, he had relied on a few strings of coins pooled by his clan and fought his way through the examinations.

At that thought, Wei Nisheng stepped closer and looked up.

"Spirit tablet of Lord Wei, personal name Zheng, posthumously honored as Grand Master of Splendid Happiness, Grand Preceptor, Minister of Revenue, and Grand Secretary of the Hall of Martial Valor, with the posthumous name Wenduan."

The tablet was brand-new, its lacquer gleaming, its gilded lettering shining in the candlelight.

This was the true pillar holding up the Wei Family.

How hard must it have been for a mud-legged peasant to climb to such a position?

Wei Nisheng could not imagine it, but he knew

that his father owed his current position as a principal official in the Ministry of Works entirely to the shelter of his grandfather's legacy.

Beside his grandfather stood the tablet of his eldest uncle, Wei Mingyuan.

A provincial graduate at fourteen, acclaimed as a Classical Laureate at seventeen...

Back then, almost everyone had known:

"The Wei Family has a son destined for the Hanlin Academy, with a future beyond measure."

Entering that scholarly circle meant entering the Hanlin Academy.

And entering the Hanlin Academy meant becoming a chancellor in waiting.

Unfortunately, at seventeen, a grave illness had taken him. He died without an heir.

His grandfather's eldest son, the son in whom he had placed the greatest hopes, had died just like that.

The white-haired had buried the black-haired.

Looking at that tablet, Wei Nisheng suddenly began to understand why his grandfather had been so delighted to hear that his mother had given birth to twin boys.

His eldest son had died, but his second son now had two sons. The eldest branch had an heir.

Beside it stood the tablet of his birth mother in this life.

The same plate of shriveled pastries, the same dusty corner.

What he had just fought to secure for his mother would not be delivered until tomorrow.

Wei Nisheng stood there, looking for a long time.

His grandfather, his eldest uncle. His mother.

Three tablets, three dead people.

Looking at them, Wei Nisheng suddenly felt like laughing.

In this vast Wei Residence, all those living people-

his father, his legitimate elder brother, his stepmother, the servants filling the courtyards-

every last one of them: had any ever treated him as a person?

His father regarded him as a sworn enemy, his legitimate elder brother saw him as bad luck, and his stepmother considered him a menace who would someday claim a share of the family property.

Those servants called him "Second Young Master" to his face, but what vile things had they not said behind his back?

Yet the very reason he had survived until today was the dead.

Ten years ago, when he first transmigrated here, his grandfather's lingering authority had saved him and secured his first mouthful of milk.

Just now, in the ancestral hall, before his father and Cui Shi, whose standing had he borrowed?

His own mother's.

His mother's tablet, her status as the "first wife," her contribution in "bearing twin sons."

Without that tablet standing here, his entire speech would have been a joke.

And there was his eldest uncle.

His father hated him because he had "brought death upon" his grandfather and mother.

But viewed another way, without his birth, the eldest branch truly would have died out.

The members of the Wei Family said nothing, but that did not mean the thought had never crossed their minds.

Had his eldest uncle Wei Mingyuan lived, he would surely have entered the Hanlin Academy long ago. How would his father ever have had a turn as head of the family?

The living despised him, despised him so much they wished him dead.

Yet the dead were paving his path.

His grandfather's lingering authority had preserved his life.

His mother's rightful status had given him a blade with which to strike back.

His eldest uncle's lack of an heir had instead become his road forward.

At that thought, Wei Nisheng stepped forward, drew out three incense sticks, and held them to the candle flame.

First, he went to his grandfather's tablet, bowed three times, and planted an incense stick.

Then he went to his mother's tablet and bowed three times with utmost respect.

"Grandfather, you gave your grandson this life. While you were here, the Wei Family was a Pure Nobility house.

"Now that you are gone, watch from heaven and see how much of that Pure Nobility remains. From this day forward, your grandson will not disgrace you."

Finally, he approached his eldest uncle's tablet.

A provincial graduate at fourteen, a Classical Laureate at seventeen, first in the provincial examination.

The Wei Family's most perfect heir, whose path he too had to follow!

So Wei Nisheng slowly knelt and lowered his forehead to the floor.

Once, twice, three times.

After kowtowing, he stood, brushed the dust from his knees, and turned toward the door.

After two steps, he stopped again and glanced back.

The three tablets stood silently on the altar, wreathed in incense, thin trails of blue smoke curling upward.

In the Wei Family, his legitimate elder brother was the light, and he was the shadow.

But in this world, no light could obscure a shadow forever.

Wei Nisheng pushed open the ancestral hall door.

Outside, the snow was still falling.

Wei An still stood there, waiting for him.