"Uncle Wu, how is she doing?" Inside the Hall of Hundred Arts, Song Changsheng frowned as he looked at Xia Qingxue, who lay quietly on the bed.
Song Luzhou shook his head and replied, "I gave her a top-tier Grade-2 healing pill, and the clan's physicians have already examined her, but none of it had much effect. Her injuries are simply too severe. If it weren't for your timely intervention, she'd already be in the underworld by now."
Song Changsheng fell silent. In truth, Xia Qingxue still being alive had little to do with his efforts. If he had to guess, she likely possessed some kind of special physique, which was the real reason she had survived. Her lack of consciousness was probably also related to that same unique trait.
Song Luzhou asked, "So what are you planning to do with her? She's a real hot potato."
"What else can I do? Just inform the Golden Crow Sect. After all, the Warden of Yuanzhou only gave us a three-month window," Song Changsheng said with a helpless smile, shrugging his shoulders.
A glimmer flashed in Song Luzhou's eyes. "Of course, we'll notify the Golden Crow Sect. But have you considered what might happen if the Blood Demons find out we saved her? Do you realize the kind of disaster that could bring to the clan?"
Sigh, "I've been worrying about that too. We have no shortage of enemies, and every move we make is watched. The only reason we got her back safely last time was because Cousin Yushi and the others helped cover it up. Otherwise, we'd already have been exposed.
Whether we notify the Warden to come pick her up or send someone from the clan to escort her back, either way, we'll have fulfilled our obligation to the Golden Crow Sect and are bound to receive a generous reward.
But once that happens, word will get out that we're the ones who saved Xia Qingxue, and that's when the Blood Demons might come knocking."
Song Changsheng's brows were tightly furrowed, and he rubbed his temples. His head was starting to hurt.
He didn't know the full extent of the Blood Demons' hidden strength within the Qi Kingdom's cultivation world, but the fact that they had dared to ambush Dai Zichen spoke volumes. Not only were they bold beyond measure, but they were powerful and well-hidden.
If they had deliberately gone through all this trouble and someone like the Song Clan ruined their plans, they would surely retaliate, and the clan could be wiped out overnight.
Someone might ask: Why not just do a secret handover? Why risk exposure?
Song Changsheng had considered that too, but he quickly rejected the idea. The Golden Crow Sect wasn't about to swallow such a loss quietly. They would retaliate, but the Blood Demons were like phantoms, with no clear way to strike back.
If he were in charge of the Golden Crow Sect, the Song Clan would make the perfect bait. Knowing the Blood Demons' vengeful nature, they would surely seek revenge, and that's when the sect could lie in wait and catch them.
Sure, having the Golden Crow Sect's protection sounded reassuring in theory, but things were never that simple. Unless the sect completely wiped out the Blood Demons in one decisive blow, any surviving remnants would just go to ground and wait.
The Golden Crow Sect wouldn't stay here forever. Once they left, the Song Clan would be left to face the Blood Demons alone, and let's be honest, everyone knew how that would end.
Putting the clan in mortal danger for the sake of a reward was an idiotic gamble, no matter how generous the reward might be.
Song Luzhou clearly understood all this as well, but he didn't have a good solution either.
"When the boat reaches the bridge, it'll straighten out," Song Changsheng muttered with a sigh.
"We've still got over two months. We'll deal with it then. For now, we need to focus on waking her up."
Song Luzhou nodded. "I'll do my best, but no promises."
"This concerns the survival of the clan. The fewer people who know, the better."
"Brat, are you lecturing me now?" Song Luzhou glared at him in mock annoyance.
"I'm going to check on Cousin Yulong," Song Changsheng said quickly, making a tactical retreat the moment things started to turn.
In another room, Song Yulong had just slowly regained consciousness, though he still looked pale and weak. Song Yushi and Song Muqing were tending to him at his bedside.
Seeing Song Changsheng arrive, the two quickly stood and bowed. "Greetings, Young Patriarch."
"There's no need for formalities, Cousin," Song Changsheng said with a wave of his hand. "How's Brother Yulong doing?"
Song Yushi replied gratefully, "Thanks to you and Uncle Wu's timely intervention, my brother has already woken up. He just went back to sleep. The physician said he'll be fine with a period of proper rest."
"That's good to hear," Song Changsheng smiled. "If there's anything you need, don't hesitate to ask. Now that you're on Cangmang Peak, you're home. No need to be reserved."
"Thank you, Young Patriarch. Auntie has already made arrangements. We don't need anything at the moment."
"Very well. Then I'll leave you to rest. I'll take my leave now."
"Take care, Young Patriarch."
Once Song Changsheng had left, a faint voice came from the bed.
"Yushi… who was that?"
"Brother, you're awake! That was the Young Patriarch who just came to visit you," Song Yushi explained with a smile.
"Young Patriarch?" Song Yulong was puzzled after all, as far as he knew, the clan hadn't had a Young Patriarch in over a hundred years.
"After you lost consciousness, it was the Young Patriarch who arrived just in time to save us. The whole battle lasted less than half an hour. Those so-called core bloodline elites from the main clan aren't all that impressive after all," Song Yushi said with a trace of emotion.
Song Yulong's eyes flashed with surprise. He knew exactly how terrifying those "core disciples" were that Yushi was referring to, so hearing such praise from her meant something. Still, thinking back, the Song Clan had once been a Purple Mansion-level family. Though they had declined, the foundations remained, so a few outstanding talents could emerge.
"Right… what about the cultivator we rescued?" he asked.
At that, Song Yushi's bright eyes dimmed, her fingers nervously twisting at her sleeves as she lowered her head. "She's the missing disciple from the Golden Crow Sect… I've brought trouble to the clan."
Sigh. "You're not to blame for that," Song Yulong said helplessly. "Don't be too hard on yourself. If she had died, the consequences would've been even worse. I trust the clan will handle it appropriately."
It was hard not to feel helpless. The whole situation had been far too coincidental; no matter what choice they made, the Song Clan would have been pulled into it. It did feel like… fate.
...
After checking in with everyone, Song Changsheng returned to the Administrative Hall, skillfully working through a mountain of clerical tasks before finally pulling out three Spatial Bags to inspect the spoils of war.
In that recent battle, he had killed four Blood Demons. The three high-grade Tier-2 Crimson Sword Talismans had played a crucial role. He had originally prepared them for the Qiantian Secret Realm, but they hadn't been needed then.
Looking back, the talismans had been vital to his swift and overwhelming victory. At the time, he hadn't thought much of it, but now that the dust had settled, he couldn't help but feel a pang of pain each of those talismans was worth at least two to three thousand spirit stones.
In other words, that fight had cost him close to ten thousand spirit stones.
"Please don't disappoint me…" he muttered, opening the first Spatial Bag belonging to an early Foundation Establishment demonic cultivator.
A pile of… junk fell out.
That's right. Junk. Aside from two low-grade Tier-2 demonic artifacts, there was hardly anything of value. Just a few hundred low-grade spirit stones.
It was easily the poorest Foundation Establishment cultivator Song Changsheng had ever seen.
"Maybe he wasn't carrying everything on him?" he wondered aloud. That was the only explanation that made sense after all, even the most modest Foundation Establishment cultivator shouldn't be this broke.
Growing uneasy, he opened the bag from the mid-stage cultivator. Again, mostly junk. A few demonic tools and just over a thousand spirit stones.
Now fully despairing, Song Changsheng clung to a final thread of hope and opened the bag from the Blood Demon deacon. Aside from one high-grade spiritual artifact he'd personally subdued, there was… nothing of real value. Fewer than three thousand spirit stones.
Staring at the literal mound of garbage, Song Changsheng's face turned as black as the bottom of a pot. This was abysmal. If not for that one high-grade artifact, he would've come out of this fight at a net loss!
He assumed they must have stored most of their wealth before going on their mission. What he didn't know was that this pile of garbage was all they owned.
It sounded absurd, but it wasn't hard to understand. These demonic cultivators lived like rats in the shadows. Hunted by everyone, they could barely show their faces in public. With no stable income, they could only scrape by spending everything they had just to sustain their cultivation. Saving up was a luxury they couldn't afford.
Fortunately, that single high-grade artifact was still worth several thousand spirit stones. All in all, it wasn't a total loss…
...
A few days later, as Song Changsheng was absorbing Yin-Yang Qi, he spotted a giant paper kite slicing through the clouds toward Cangmang Peak.
From a distance, he could see two young figures standing atop it.
The girl looked sixteen or seventeen, with sparkling eyes and flawless skin that outshone snow. Tall and elegant in a flowing green dress, she wore no jewelry, only a simple ribbon tying back her three thousand strands of black hair, fluttering freely in the wind, full of youthful energy.
The boy looked eighteen or nineteen, dressed in black robes, cradling a longsword in his arms. His eyes were deep and unreadable, his expression cold as if nothing in the world was worth his attention.
"These two little rascals must've gotten impatient; they came all the way here themselves," Song Changsheng muttered to himself, rubbing his chin. "But I really can't leave right now… How am I supposed to explain this in a way that sounds reasonable?"
Before the giant paper kite even landed, Song Qingxing leapt off, landing gracefully in front of him. In a calm voice, he asked, "When are we leaving?"
Song Changsheng felt a headache coming on. He gave a dry cough and said, "We'll have to wait a little longer. Things are unstable right now."
"You're going back on your word?" Song Qingxing's brows furrowed, and a flash of sword intent flickered in his eyes.
Just as Song Changsheng was preparing to reason with him, a figure unexpectedly barreled straight into his arms. He didn't even need to look to know who it was. Smiling indulgently, he said, "Aren't you a bit too old to still be doing this? No shame at all."
Song Qingxi clung to his arm without the slightest hint of embarrassment and pouted, "Little Uncle, why were you gone for so long this time? You didn't even tell me you were back."
"Didn't I tell you before? I'd be away for quite a while. Now tell me, have you been cultivating properly while I was gone?" Song Changsheng asked, putting on a serious face.
Hearing this, Song Qingxi proudly revealed her cultivation, "I've already reached the seventh level of Qi Refinement!"
"Not bad. There'll be a reward for that." Song Changsheng was genuinely impressed. She was only sixteen, and at that age, he had barely reached that stage, even with the help of powerful techniques.
Then he glanced at Song Qingxing, already at the ninth level of Qi Refinement at just eighteen years old. His progress was even faster than Song Changsheng's had been.
"No wonder he's so eager to leave. At this rate, he could condense his Dao Foundation within three years. There isn't much time left…" Song Changsheng frowned. The journey to the Heavenly Sword Sect was crucial for Song Qingxing's future; of course, he had to go with him.
But the family was currently in a precarious situation. The clan head, Song Xianming, was in closed-door cultivation, and the Grand Elder was still gravely injured. The family-wide competition to decide the recipients of the Foundation Establishment Pills was also approaching.
As the Young Patriarch, Song Changsheng had to take responsibility and remain at the Administrative Hall. He couldn't just leave on a whim.
Meeting Song Qingxing's calm but piercing gaze, he sighed. "Once someone else is available to oversee things, I'll take you to Heavenly Sword Sect myself."
"The clan doesn't only have you," Song Qingxing replied coolly, clearly dissatisfied. In his mind, they should've departed last year. All this delay had tested his patience.
"That may be true, but everyone has their responsibilities. As a Young Patriarch, I bear the honor and responsibility of this family on my shoulders. That's my responsibility," Song Changsheng said, slowly shaking his head. He couldn't just walk away while others relied on him.
Song Qingxing stared into his eyes, his voice low and indifferent:
"With your talent, the family will only drag you down."
Song Changsheng frowned. That was not a good sign.
He looked at Song Qingxing seriously and said, "I know you don't feel much attachment to the clan. But regardless, the blood of our ancestor, Taiyi, flows in your veins. You are part of this family.
You may think the clan is a burden, but without it, neither of us might've had the chance to cultivate at all. For hundreds of years, the family has never abandoned a single member, no matter how poor their talent. They always found a way to support them. Not for profit, but because we're family.
If we've received that support, then we also have a responsibility to give back. Maybe you can't understand this now, but I hope someday you will."
Song Qingxing's eyes were as calm and still as a dead lake, betraying no emotion. The two stared at each other in silence. After a moment, he simply said, "Let me know when we're leaving."
With that, he turned and walked toward Song Changsheng's courtyard, sitting cross-legged in the rear garden and beginning his meditation.
A faint smile tugged at the corners of Song Changsheng's lips. There was still hope. He had planned to ask Song Qingxi to help talk some sense into him, but now… that might not be necessary.
"You two are always so weird around each other," Song Qingxi said with a pout, resting her cheeks on her hands as she sat on a stone bench nearby.
Song Changsheng chuckled, "That's just our special way of communicating. I heard you two went down the mountain to train. Tell me about it?"
Her eyes lit up instantly. She grabbed Song Changsheng's arm and began chattering away excitedly.
The more he listened, the more stunned he became. These two had nerves of steel…
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