Chapter 657

As soon as he entered the small tavern, a neatly dressed waiter ushered Han Li inside.

Han Li did not go upstairs; instead, he found a quiet corner on the first floor, sat down, ordered a few small dishes, and sat in silence, observing everything in the tavern.

The first-floor patrons were a mix of all walks of life, no different from other taverns Han Li had seen before—whether porters, laborers, or merchants come to town to trade, all were present.

The only striking sight was a group of burly men in tight-fitting attire at one table.

There were five or six of them, each with a long rectangular cloth sack placed within easy reach beside them. Han Li didn't need to scan with his spiritual sense—he immediately guessed they contained blades or swords. Their uniform clothing suggested they were members of some gang.

Yet this also stirred a faint sense of familiarity in Han Li, reminding him of his days at the Seven Mysteries Sect.

He turned his spiritual sense toward them; their casual chatter became clear to his ears—they were indeed talking only about gang fights and violence. After listening for a while, he lost interest and shifted his gaze, intending to focus on others.

At that moment, two young scholars entered the tavern. They walked slowly forward, speaking animatedly.

"I heard that when Minister Han returns to his hometown for ancestral worship, not only will the Prefect come in person to pay respects, but even the Fan and Li families will send representatives. It seems the Han family will really throw a grand ceremony this time—no way to stay low-key."

"Exactly! I heard the Han family sent out invitations far and wide, recalling every branch clan member, no matter how distant. Even minor gentry from Jingzhou have sent people to observe the rites. I think the Han family will soon stand alongside the Fan and Li families as one of Jingzhou's three great clans."

"Wow! They've only risen to prominence in the past hundred years or so—and already they've gained such prestige? Unbelievable!"

"What's strange about that? Ever since an ancestor of the Han family married into the family of a jieyuan, their fortunes never stopped rising. Successive generations kept passing the imperial exams. After decades of accumulation, such glory isn't surprising at all. Maybe we should go too…"

The two scholars sat down casually at a nearby table.

"Han family!" Han Li froze at the mention, eager to hear more. But the two abruptly changed the subject, talking about the Book of Songs and other literary matters, leaving Han Li deeply frustrated.

Yet after a moment's thought, he suddenly rose and walked toward the two scholars.

"Gentlemen, I am Han Li. Could you tell me which Han family you just mentioned? I've come here upon receiving a letter to return to my ancestral home for the rites. But I grew up far away and know nothing of my own family—I don't even know where the ancestral worship will be held. Please guide me." Han Li approached the scholars with a smile.

"So you're a member of the Han family? Our apologies for the oversight. But in this region, which Han family could it be? Naturally, the Han family of Wuli Gou." The two scholars first blinked in surprise, but seeing Han Li's scholarly attire and refined speech, they answered without the slightest suspicion.

"Wuli Gou!" That place was precisely the small mountain-side village where the Han family once lived—named for its location within a five- to six-li-long valley, a rustic, unrefined name.

It seemed the Han family the scholars had mentioned was almost certainly closely related to him.

"If it's Wuli Gou, then this Han family is indeed my own. Could you tell me more about the situation? I've never attended our ancestral rites before—I don't want to make a fool of myself." Han Li's expression remained calm, his tone gentle.

"Well… just giving a general account? That's no problem. Everyone knows this." The two scholars exchanged glances; one studied Han Li again, found him harmless, and readily agreed.

"Thank you both!" Han Li smiled and thanked them again.

One of the scholars began speaking:

"If you're attending the rites, you'd better not go to Wuli Gou yet. Decades ago, the Han family moved their main residence to Han Family Fortress, dozens of li away. Only on the day of the rites do all clan members return to the old village in Wuli Gou. As for the Han family…"

Han Li listened quietly, his face expressionless, but his heart churned violently.

…

Two hours later, Han Li appeared atop the former Qingshan Mountain, but this time he did not land—he stood silently, gazing down without a word.

Could this still be the same small village?

The dirt paths, low walls, thatched huts, children, and villagers—all gone. In their place stood large courtyards with tiled roofs, stone-paved lanes, and neatly dressed servants. Not a trace remained of the past.

After watching for a while, Han Li shook his head, ready to leave immediately—but his gaze suddenly fell upon a pavilion at the very center of the estate.

The pavilion was not particularly large, but since all other buildings were single-story, it stood out starkly.

The pavilion's doors were tightly shut, bearing a black plaque inscribed in silver powder with the characters "Han Family Ancestral Hall."

A strange expression crossed Han Li's face. After a moment's thought, his form vanished—next, he stood before the pavilion.

Several burly servants stood guard before the pavilion, but Han Li, using his invisibility technique, remained unseen.

He glanced at them casually, then immediately used his teleportation technique to pass through the door.

Inside, rows of ancestral tablets filled his view—hundreds of wooden plaques lined the long tables along the walls, forming a long aisle. The tables toward the back were empty, presumably reserved for future ancestors.

His eyes swept over the tablets; though they bore countless Han family names, they were all utterly unfamiliar to him.

Han Li did not linger—he went straight upstairs.

The second floor also held ancestral tablets, but they were far more solemn and grand. Incense burners, sandalwood, and a massive bronze tripod filled with oil and a thick cotton wick, burning brightly, stood in the center, evoking deep reverence.

Han Li paid no attention to any of this—he stared fixedly at the few tablets placed at the center, motionless.

"Han Zhu, Han Tie, Han Tian Sheng, …"

These familiar names, coldly inscribed on black wooden plaques, pierced Han Li's heart—he felt a sudden, suffocating heaviness.

As the saying goes: The Dao is without feeling. But that is merely self-deception.

Even Han Li, now a terrestrial immortal, could not sever his emotions or desires—he could only bury them as deeply as possible within his heart.

Han Li finally moved, slowly approaching the central tablets, then stopping. His face remained expressionless, yet warm memories of time spent with these relatives flooded his mind.

Time passed slowly—he did not know how long he stood there.

The heavy creak of the pavilion door opening jolted Han Li from his memories, but he remained standing in place, motionless.

Footsteps and the voices of two middle-aged men rose from below.

"Brother Li, you're too eager. Didn't I say I'd lend you the journal after the ancestral rites? Why rush so desperately?" one man said, exasperated.

"Heh! Brother Han, you only mentioned just now that the journal recorded a nameless footwork style created by our ancestor. I found that strange—how could our Li family never have known about it? Naturally, I want to see it as soon as possible. But why is the journal kept in the ancestral hall? What if someone steals it? That would be disastrous!" the other man replied, embarrassed yet worried.

"Pfft! Who would sneak into another family's ancestral hall to steal? Besides, though our Han Family Ancestral Hall isn't a dragon's den or tiger's lair, it's guarded day and night by skilled retainers—no ordinary person could get near. Even if they did, wouldn't they fear our Han family's retaliation?" the first man said confidently.

"That's true!" the other man agreed.

Footsteps climbed the stairs clearly. A scholar and a bearded giant appeared one after the other at the stairway entrance.

Their smiling expressions froze the moment they saw Han Li, standing with hands clasped behind his back before the ancestral tablets.

The bearded giant blinked, then stepped forward, blocking the middle-aged scholar, his beard bristling as he roared.

"You thief! You've followed us here? Then leave your life behind!" He clenched his fists, leapt into the air, and lunged straight at Han Li.

Before he even reached, a powerful gust of wind slammed down.

Han Li, facing away, remained utterly still.

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