Chapter 409: We Have a Daughter

South of Liangzhou, northwest of the Great Wilderness Forest.

The reinforcements sent by the Three Southern Sects had already taken positions on both banks of the roaring Nujiang River, now gazing upward at the deep sky.

They had arrived upon receiving a message from the Spirit Platform, their purpose to meet those disciples fleeing back from the Sage Ancestral Grounds; he had also learned roughly what had transpired there.

Yet at this very moment, they were still stunned by the rolling darkness spreading toward them.

Especially when endless malevolent energy erupted from the sky like the heavens themselves had been set ablaze, and countless pale-green figures screamed through the air within that energy, their shock gradually turned to terror.

For they had seen such a scene only in the illustrated scrolls of ancient history.

And the title of that illustration was: The Descendants’ War Against Heaven.

As they remained frozen in disbelief, countless figures surged forth beneath the towering darkness.

First came the Tian Shu Academy, then the Wenda Sect, followed by Lingjian Mountain.

The human cultivators who had fled from the Sage Ancestral Grounds, traveling day and night, arrived here in disarray—but compared to their numbers before, each sect had lost half its members.

The disciples sent by Lingjian Mountain to meet them immediately stepped forward and successfully reunited with their southern-retreating comrades, yet what they could not accept was that their Jian Master was not among them.

“Where is the Jian Master? Have any of you seen where she is?!”

“The Jian Master… the Jian Master remained behind at the Sage Ancestral Grounds, using the Sacred Artifact to cover our retreat.”

“What? You bastards!”

The leader, Elder Yan Chuan and Yan De from Xuanjian Peak, immediately cursed: “You abandoned your Jian Master and came back alone?!”

The battered Lingjian Mountain disciples clenched their fists: “We assumed the Jian Master’s cultivation had reached Shenyou, and with the Spirit Mirror on her person, she could escape—so we followed orders to retreat southward, not wanting to burden her…”

“Nonsense! No matter how strong she is, she’s still only one person. You will return with me immediately to rescue her!”

Yan De glanced at Yan Chuan after hearing this: “I think they’re right. The Jian Master’s arcane arts are extraordinary, her sword path already perfected, and she possesses the Sacred Artifact—she won’t be in danger. We’d only be a burden.”

Yan Chuan clenched his fists: “Even so…”

“Even so?”

“You don’t understand—but trust me, we must go to rescue her!”

Yan Chuan’s emotions grew agitated, his eyes filled with deep worry.

Few outside the upper echelons knew Lingjian Mountain’s Jian Master was pregnant, for unwed pregnancy was unsuitable for public knowledge, especially since Lingjian Mountain had always struggled to accept Ji You’s relationship with their own Jian Master.

Over the past half-year, the young Jian Master had been in consistently poor spirits and refused to hear the sect disciples gossiping.

Yan Chuan had spent the past half-year guarding her pavilion, so he knew of this matter—and he also knew that as the child grew, the Jian Master had begun weakening, and alone, she would be in grave danger.

But he could not tell them; he could only insist on going to save her.

At that moment, three figures flew in from the Nujiang Riverbank: Cao Jingsong landed with Ban Yangshu, Wen Zhengxin, and Bai RuLong.

Throughout their southward journey, they had been searching for the young Jian Master, sharing Yan Chuan’s same fears.

Only now, upon hearing the Lingjian Mountain disciples’ words, did they realize she had stayed behind to cover the retreat—and their panic surged; they immediately flew forward.

“Count us in on rescuing the Jian Master.”

“Your noble spirit, fellow cultivators…”

Yan Chuan saw Cao Jingsong’s gaze and knew he, too, understood the Jian Master’s pregnancy; he did not refuse, bowing immediately in thanks.

Yan De, seeing this, said nothing further—he realized these people had a true, irreplaceable reason to go.

As for the Lingjian Mountain disciples, they immediately shattered their last remaining spirit stones to replenish their energy; having abandoned their Jian Master alone, they already felt guilt, and now that even Tian Shu Academy was going, they naturally followed.

But just as they prepared to depart, a deafening explosion erupted from the direction of Zhongzhou, and a far stronger aura suddenly appeared, causing even those at the peak of the Upper Five Realms to tremble involuntarily.

This aura surpassed their understanding—merely sensing it from afar made their entire bodies shudder.

Puh—!!

A figure pierced through the wind and crashed violently onto the ground.

It was a Shenyou-level elder from Shanhai Pavilion, his chest now pierced by a massive wound, blood continuously oozing out.

Shanhai Pavilion guarded the northeast, the slowest to retreat southward—clearly, they had encountered widespread pursuit.

On both banks of the Nujiang River, countless onlookers were struck with dread at this sight.

Yet at that moment, as a stone stele suddenly rose into the sky, countless pursuing Descendants were crushed into ash.

Amidst countless gazes, Chen Luo and Chen Xi of the Chen Clan descended from the heavens, sweeping their palms to retrieve the Ancient Dao Stele that had been suppressing the sky, landing amid rolling waves of energy.

Behind them, Shanhai Pavilion disciples followed Chen Clan disciples swiftly retreating into the Great Wilderness Forest, arriving before the gathered crowd.

At that moment, everyone saw a black palanquin, upon which sat an old man with white hair and beard—the patriarch of the Chen Clan, who had vanished from public view since the calamity that befell the thousand-year-old clan.

He was barely breathing, unconscious, his breath faint and still.

Seeing this, everyone exchanged stunned glances.

“So the rumors were true?”

“I told you—the Chen patriarch was the one most severely wounded; otherwise, he would’ve appeared long ago.”

Two years ago, rumors had spread that the Chen patriarch had been grievously wounded by a Linxian-level demon, reduced to a half-dead state; the Chen Clan had never confirmed it, but now the truth was laid bare.

Hearing the murmurs around them, Chen Luo and Chen Xi’s expressions darkened.

Their Chen Clan resided in Qingzhou, the first to be overrun after the Descendants’ revival; they had been forced to evacuate the entire clan, and thus could no longer conceal the patriarch’s condition.

But it no longer mattered—previously, they had concealed it for fear of other immortal sects attacking; now, they had lost even their ancestral lands—what was left to guard against?

Meanwhile, Yan Chuan, Cao Jingsong, and others who had been discussing returning to Zhongzhou approached them.

“All of you, did you see my Jian Master on your way here?!”

Chen Xi looked at them: “The Jian Master did not evacuate?”

Yan Chuan moistened his dry lips: “According to our sect disciples, she chose to remain behind to cover the retreat.”

A Shanhai Pavilion disciple spoke up: “I think I saw her once—she was injured. When we left, I saw her being supported by two others as they headed east.”

“Injured? How severe was the Jian Master’s wound?”

“I didn’t see clearly…”

Cao Jingsong now turned to Chen Xi: “May I ask, Lady Chen, what is the current situation in Zhongzhou?”

Chen Xi’s gaze hardened: “A warrior rivaling Linxian has appeared in Zhongzhou—called a Wangchen—who led countless elite Descendants. The place is now entirely occupied; no one can enter.”

“Rivaling Linxian?!”

“Correct. That man must be a high-ranking figure among the Descendants.”

Zuoqiu Yang now flew in and spoke: “How many such warriors have appeared in Zhongzhou?”

“We saw only one, but from the Descendants’ conversations, there are clearly more than one bearing the title Wangchen,” Chen Xi answered honestly.

Hearing this, Yan Chuan and Cao Jingsong simultaneously lifted their heads toward the north, their hearts turning icy.

A warrior rivaling Linxian meant a cultivator on the level of a sect patriarch—yet with their own realms, they could not even reach that place, let alone rescue the Jian Master.

Gong!!!!

At that moment, a mighty roar echoed from the distant night sky.

Everyone turned to look—above, a colossal spectral figure clashed fiercely with a Descendant bearing vast, sky-covering wings.

Seeing this, everyone’s spirits trembled.

They did not recognize the Descendant, but they recognized the spectral figure—it was the Emperor of the Beast Tribes.

Their overwhelming auras shook the night to boiling, toppling mountains and filling the earth with thick, rolling smoke.

Seeing this cataclysmic scene, Yan Chuan and Cao Jingsong turned deathly pale—they knew Chen Xi had not lied.

“It’s Father!”

“The clan is in the northeast—immediately go to meet them!”

North of the Zhongzhou forests, Prince Ye Han of the Beast Tribes slew a Descendant soldier with his battle blade, then led his vast army northeastward.

After the cataclysm erupted, they had not fled south like the humans; instead, they had pressed forward against the tide, seeking to rescue their kin—suffering countless casualties, yet never giving up.

Now, seeing the Emperor’s figure, they knew their clan must already be retreating southward.

The northeast of the Sage Ancestral Grounds was the ancient human training ground, now surrounded by countless Descendant soldiers hunting down humans who had not yet escaped.

When they arrived, they saw a brilliant silver spear piercing through the encirclement like a storm.

Soon, the spear pierced through several Descendants, then clattered back.

In the crowd’s gaze appeared a slender figure clad in red-and-silver armor, standing atop the ancient human training ground’s wall, grasping the spear, then cutting a bloody path with majestic force.

“It’s the Princess…”

“It’s the Princess!”

Amidst the cries, Ye Han charged forward on his beast.

Upon reaching the ancient human training ground, he leapt into the air, his battle blade slamming down to slay a Descendant: “Feng Yang…”

Feng Yang gripped the silver spear, wiping blood from her face: “Brother, I’m fine. Father ordered you and me to lead the clan south immediately.”

“Where is the leader of the Lin Clan? I left him to guard Yunzhou—why are you leading the charge?!”

“The Lin Clan leader is dead. The story is long, but now is not the time to speak—go!”

Ye Han turned back: “Issue my command—protect the clan’s retreat southward!”

As he spoke, the army behind him surged like a tide toward the east and west, surrounding the Beast Tribe members who had followed Feng Yang.

The vast Beast Tribe immediately began circling eastward, racing southward.

Throughout this, Feng Yang wielded her spear, cutting through continuously—her overwhelming aura drew the gaze of countless Beast Tribesmen.

For their own princess, these soldiers understood better than common folk—her talent was extraordinary, no weaker than the prince.