Chapter 467: Ancestral Hall! Young Man, Are You of the Zhang Family?

Xu Family, Ancestral Hall.

Before the hall, a vast courtyard held a towering tree, its canopy lush and dense, its fallen leaves blanketing the ground.

The surrounding walls were covered in ancient paintings—endless oceans, rolling waves—as if all the water veins of the world were carved into the weathered earth walls.

“Zhixia, today’s occasion demands you exercise restraint.”

Before even entering the courtyard, Wei Qingshuang turned to give her instructions.

“I understand,” Xu Zhixia replied softly.

Today, she wore a plain white dress, black leather shoes, no makeup—yet she looked even more youthful and radiant.

Gazing at the courtyard and the ancient ancestral hall behind it, Xu Zhixia couldn’t help but feel a pang of reflection.

The Xu Ancestral Hall stood at the highest point of Jinmen; from the [Fengjian Tower] three hundred meters south, one could overlook the entire city, the Haihe River, and the Sanchahe estuary—clearly meant to “guard this region.”

If the Sanchahe estuary was the convergence point of the water dragon’s vein,

then the Xu Ancestral Hall was the pivotal node of Jinmen’s fengshui formation—mirroring the interplay of Heaven and Earth, the transformation of Yin and Yang, resonating across distance, profoundly mysterious.

Precisely because of this, the Ancestral Hall was of utmost importance.

Normally, ordinary clan members were forbidden to approach it; even during the year-end ancestral rites, only male descendants of the clan were permitted to enter and pay homage.

Otherwise, unless it was a matter of great clan significance, women were not allowed inside the hall.

Xu Zhixia couldn’t recall the last time she’d come here—it must have been when Xu Mingjing cultivated his Inner Elixir and entered the Zhai Shou realm, during the clan’s ancestral offering ceremony.

After all, mastering the Art of Life was already the mark of a true Elixir Master.

For any aristocratic family or sect, this was a matter of paramount importance—requiring ancestral rites, offerings to the gods, and collective celebration.

Now, Xu Changshou had returned to the Xu family, reclaiming his lineage.

Had he merely possessed ordinary cultivation, it would have been nothing; but he had reached the Zhai Shou realm, with his Inner Elixir refined five times over.

Such an achievement truly warranted a grand ceremony—it was the Xu family’s acknowledgment and recognition of him.

“Today, Xu Changshou’s disciple, that young man named Zhao Jiexuan, will likely come too,” Wei Qingshuang murmured.

“Zhixia, you must seize this opportunity.”

“Mom…” Xu Zhixia frowned slightly, wanting to speak, but held her tongue.

Wei Qingshuang seemed not to notice Xu Zhixia’s expression, continuing on her own: “If your father had been more ambitious, I wouldn’t have to push you to use this occasion to draw close to…”

Her words cut off abruptly, yet her meaning was clear.

Xu Mingzhang, at his age, had barely reached Gao Gong—long deemed by the clan as having exhausted his potential, now a marginal figure in the Second Branch.

Although he was a second-generation disciple, he held only his rank in seniority; in status, he was even lower than third-generation disciples like Xu Yinhe.

Otherwise, he could have easily arranged a meeting with Xu Changshou to broker a match.

But in reality, with Xu Mingzhang’s status, he couldn’t even approach Xu Changshou alone.

This was the gulf of cultivation realms—bringing a chasm of status.

Precisely because of this, their family knew nothing of what had transpired at the Water Mansion.

In truth, the Xu family’s high echelons had already suppressed the matter—it concerned another of the Xu family’s key sites.

Xu Zhixia naturally understood Wei Qingshuang’s intentions, but she had no grounds to object.

Because Wei Qingshuang was thinking of her future, of the future of their entire family—even if she hated it, she had no choice but to yield.

What could she do? Born into the Xu family, into such a great clan, she was bound by countless helplessness and lack of autonomy.

From the day she chose to break up with Zhang Fan, her fate ceased to be her own.

At this moment, Xu clan disciples were gradually entering the courtyard.

The Xu family owned many enterprises and conducted vast business; by custom, all disciples within Jinmen—except those stationed elsewhere—were required to attend today.

Entering the courtyard, at its center stood a massive stone shell, irregular in shape, nearly eight-sided, ancient and weathered, its creases and folds as if carved by wind and frost.

Most crucially, the stone shell was enormous—far larger than the entire Zhang Fan household.

When Xu Zhixia was a child and first came to the hall, she had been deeply curious about this stone shell.

Elders told her it was the shell of a giant turtle from the Western Sea, once acquired by Xu Zu and placed in the clan to suppress Jinmen’s water veins and gather fortune.

In truth, among all the water systems of the world, the most mysterious creatures besides the jiaolong were these giant turtles.

Legend said that during Yu the Great’s flood control, he received aid from one such turtle—vaster still, its body like a mountain.

Since then, such spiritual species had grown exceedingly rare in rivers, seas, and lakes.

Once, when the Yellow River changed course and parts of its channel dried up, a giant turtle crawled from the riverbed—its shell as large as a house. It was said that day, the earth trembled, thunder and lightning raged, and river levels surged on both banks.

That was the last recorded account of such a spiritual species.

Now, in the Final Dharma Age, such beings were nearly impossible to find.

Some claimed the ancient turtle behind Zhenwu Mountain carried this bloodline.

“Zhixia, little sister.”

At that moment, a warm voice came from behind.

Xu Zhixia turned and saw a tall, slender young man with a handsome face approaching.

“Ziwu,” Wei Qingshuang smiled upon seeing him.

“Brother Ziwu,” Xu Zhixia nodded.

Xu Ziwu was a third-generation disciple of the Xu family’s First Branch—her cousin.

He was one year older than Xu Yinhe, yet already a Master of the Third Level, having attained this realm entirely through his own insight—his strength, talent, and status far surpassed Xu Yinhe’s.

“Auntie Wei,” Xu Ziwu greeted.

Though his status was extraordinary, he held no airs; among third-generation disciples, he was immensely popular and deeply favored by elders.

“Brother Ziwu, aren’t you in Chang’an? How did you get back so quickly?” Xu Zhixia asked.

“Our family’s… Grandfather said this uncle returning to the clan is a Zhai Shou master, and besides ancestral rites, we must also perform the Sword Offering—so he ordered me to return immediately from Zhongnan Mountain,” Xu Ziwu replied.

Ancestral rites happened every year, but the Xu family’s sword was not something seen annually.

Even for Xu clan disciples, glimpsing the Pure Yang Sword required immense fortune.

“I heard Chang’an had heavy rain—flights were grounded. How did you get back?”

At that moment, another young man approached.

“Heh, I’ve got friends across the three-thousand-li Qin Plain,” Xu Ziwu didn’t need to turn—he knew who it was.

“Zian, you didn’t expect me back this fast, did you?”

As he spoke, a young man with slightly darker skin and bright eyes stepped forward.

“Brother Zian,” Xu Zhixia greeted sweetly.

“Hmm,” Xu Zian nodded lightly: “Auntie Wei.”

“Zian, I heard you’re nearly ready to comprehend the Master realm,” Wei Qingshuang smiled.

“Still a bit short,” Xu Zian replied coolly.

Hearing this, Wei Qingshuang’s heart stirred—“nearly ready” meant he was on the very threshold.

Indeed, among the three branches of the Xu family, the First Branch was unquestionably the strongest.

This was evident from the caliber of its third-generation disciples.

Within the First Branch, there were several disciples like Xu Zian—excellent prospects.

“Has Zixu arrived?”

“I haven’t seen him—he might come soon.”

The two young men of the First Branch began chatting.

At this moment, the courtyard was already filled with many Xu clan disciples.

DONG… DONG…

Suddenly, a bell rang out.

Everyone fell silent, looking up to see two elders emerge first—one was Xu Chengtian, the Second Branch patriarch and one of the Xu family’s Three Tian Shi.

The other, older still, stood tall and robust, dressed today in a purple Daoist robe.

Xu Jinchao, patriarch of the First Branch, and the true power behind the Xu family.

“Elder.”

All Xu clan disciples bowed deeply, not daring to show the slightest disrespect.

“Chengtian, your Second Branch has produced an excellent disciple,” Xu Jinchao spoke.

His voice was soft, like a spring breeze—calming to hear, yet carrying an imperceptible authority.

“Brother, you flatter me,” Xu Chengtian smiled.

Xu Jinchao was referring to Xu Changshou; for Xu Chengtian, this was an unexpected turn.

When Xu Changshou left the Xu family years ago, no one imagined he would ever cultivate an Inner Elixir and achieve such stature.

“Heh, your Second Branch is finally smoking again.”

At that moment, another elder spoke—he was short, his eyes darting, brows raised, hunched behind Xu Jinchao.

“Jinshi, brother, when fortune comes, even the gods can’t stop it.”

Before Xu Chengtian could reply, Xu Chengfeng spoke first.

He looked at Xu Jinshi with indifference, inwardly sneering.

Had it not been for his brother Xu Jinchao, this rat-like creature would never have reached the Guan Zhu realm, let alone stand on equal footing with him.

Remember, this hunched old man had once spent his youth digging graves and looting tombs—his tastes aligned perfectly with the Third Branch’s Xu Xuanguan.

“Enough…”

Xu Jinchao raised his hand slightly—and all noise ceased.

“Come in!”

No sooner had the words spoken than bells rang, ritual drums thundered, sacred banners fluttered, scripture pillars swayed, petal rain rained down, and incense smoke wavered…

Outside the courtyard gate, Xu Changshou walked in, treading the path paved with petal rain.

Under the gaze of those blazing eyes, even one of the Zhai Shou realm could not help but be overwhelmed with emotion.