Chapter 1634

"I… I can't accept this!" A hysterical roar echoed across heaven and earth, jolting the tranquil Great Chu—men, women, old and young all looked up, gazing toward the southern realm, as if faintly sensing sorrow, leaving their expressions bewildered.

On some unknown night, a gentle breeze passed by, carrying away Qin Yu, leaving no trace.

The people of Great Chu each attended to their duties, busied themselves through the day, then returned to their rooms to rest.

Night deepened into the late hours.

Qin Yu left Hengyue Sect, standing at its very edge, gazing upward at the night sky; his figure grew hazy, dissolving inch by inch until he turned to ash, merging into illusion—his body was disintegrating bit by bit, until it vanished into nothingness.

Yet that gentle breeze still drifted over, sweeping away Qin Yu—and also his Yuan Shen True Fire.

The master of that breeze was none other than Ximen Wudi; he had awakened, but his expression was dazed, as fragments of memory—long-sealed, buried memories—began slowly restarting, one by one.

His memories were still returning: Qin Yu, Zhuge Yu, Zhuge Xuan, and one familiar figure after another, appearing again and again, piercing his heart, making his torn soul throb with unbearable agony.

"Father." A childish voice rang out, timid yet surprisingly sensible.

Ximen Wudi lifted his gaze and saw a chubby child running over, blinking large black eyes, grinning at him like a little treasure; the plump little hands clung to his legs, "Father, Mother's calling you for dinner."

Ximen Wudi crouched down, grasped the child's small hand, and looked toward the doorway—at the woman there, her face haggard, her beautiful eyes misty, approaching step by unsteady step.

Ximen Wudi smiled; as he smiled, his eyes filled with tears.

Two trails of glistening tears slowly spilled from his eyes, tracing down his cheeks; he choked, silent.

The woman wept too, embracing him, her tears soaking his clothes.

Her husband arrived as well, taking the child from his wife's arms, gently patting his back with a kind, tender expression, "Your father is exhausted—he needs sleep."

"Mm-hmm." The child nodded, unusually obedient.

"Thank you." After a long while, Ximen Wudi wiped away his tears.

"I told you, our family of three will never be separated," the man smiled softly.

Ximen Wudi fell silent, still crouching, staring into the child's eyes.

Their gazes intertwined.

The child blinked, grinning, "Brother, why are you crying?"

"N-no…" Ximen Wudi coughed, wiping his tears, "I'm happy—too moved. Our little guy is so handsome."

"Really?" The child chuckled, revealing his white teeth.

"Of course," Ximen Wudi laughed, ruffling his head, then glancing again at the man—his brows instantly knitted; he felt an inexplicable sense of familiarity. He'd seen this man twice before, yet didn't recognize him—but deep within, he was certain he knew him, for the man radiated a strange power.

That power was fiercely dominant; even with his vast experience, he could not penetrate it.

He guessed the man must be a Divine Weapon's spirit.

And this Divine Weapon's spirit had once followed Dong Huang Tai Xin—or rather, had once served the Xuanhuang Emperor; now, it had become Qin Yu's weapon spirit, bound by fate, waging endless battles, its entire purpose tied to this Divine Weapon.

"If you're willing, I shall grant you a boon," a distant voice suddenly echoed.

1411 Ximen Wudi suddenly lifted his head.

Hearing it, Ximen Wudi snapped his head up, gazing through layers of spacetime—before him appeared a graceful silhouette; upon closer inspection, it was none other than the First Weapon Spirit of the Emperor—Zi Xuan.

"This is precisely the words I've been waiting for," Ximen Wudi rose instantly, bowing deeply with sincere reverence; without Zi Xuan's aid, he would have long since been reduced to dust.

"Now that I've found you, help me break free!" Zi Xuan smiled, her expression peerless.

"Rest assured, Elder, when I ascend to the Emperor Realm, I will free you," Ximen Wudi declared firmly.

"Good," Zi Xuan smiled, brushing her hand to produce a crystal-clear jade bracelet, pressing it into Ximen Wudi's hands, "You are the last Holy Body of the Xuanhuang Continent—you are worthy to wield the Divine Weapon."

"This…?" Ximen Wudi frowned, utterly captivated by the bracelet.

He knew this bracelet all too well—it was the imperial token of the Great Chu royal family, the Divine Weapon of Great Chu, its national treasure: the Xuanhuang Emperor Sword.

Alas, that Divine Sword had been struck by lightning and long since destroyed.

Over these years, Ximen Wudi had scoured the ancient stars and the mortal realms without success—not because he lacked the ability, but because the Xuanhuang Emperor Sword had turned to ashes, leaving not a single trace; unless someone repaired its shattered remnants, it could never be found. Such was the terrifying nature of the Xuanhuang Emperor Sword—even a single fragment of its sword spirit could unravel the Great Cycle Heavenly Dao. That alone was enough to defy heaven.

"It will aid you, help you ascend to the throne of Great Chu," Zi Xuan whispered, "It is stronger than the old Xuanyuan Sword. Your cultivation will surely reach the peak of Pretender Emperor."

Ximen Wudi cradled the jade bracelet in both hands like a priceless treasure, afraid to exert even the slightest force, lest he damage it—it was one of Great Chu's legacies, a spirit forged from fragments of a Divine Weapon; how could he dare harm it? Its value was beyond reckoning; with its protection, even if the Great Cycle Heavenly Dao went awry, it would shield the child and his parents—their lives were already guarded by the bracelet, a barrier placed by the Emperor himself for their sake.

Ximen Wudi shook off his thoughts, glanced at the sky—it was nearly dusk; he must leave. At dawn tomorrow, he would depart Great Chu for Xuanhuang, seeking reincarnated souls; he could not pause, could not waste a single second.

"I… I want to see the child a little longer. Could I… stay a bit longer?" Ximen Wudi's smile was weary; his words were calm, yet brimmed with longing.

His son. His wife. His child. He wanted to look at them longer.

"Of course," the woman smiled, handing the child to him, watching Ximen Wudi, "Don't forget—I am Qin Yu."

"I remember," Ximen Wudi smiled, his expression tinged with bitterness.

The child grinned, waving his tiny hand goodbye, skipping off happily.

After he left, Ximen Wudi did not move, only stared blankly into the distance; the child's departure tugged at his heart—each memory stirred brought unbidden tears. A four-year-old child, still innocent, already deprived of maternal love; his parents' feud had spilled too much blood and sin, dragging him into it—so young, forced to abandon his homeland.

"I don't hate you," Ximen Wudi murmured softly, his eyes still etched with blood and tears; even with boundless hatred, he could never kill an infant—especially one who knew nothing of it.

He was a man, not a beast. He was a father. Even if he could never forgive himself, he would never harm an innocent soul.

"The child has grown. Your worries were unnecessary," the woman whispered beside him.

Ximen Wudi wiped his tears, smiling as he shook his head.

Saying nothing more, he turned and stepped into the black hole.

Night fell; his figure appeared among the nine heavens, standing atop the summit of Hengyue Mountain, gazing into the depths of the sky, his expression dazed—as if gazing far into Great Chu.

His eyes grew hazy.

Once, he believed he was dead. Who could have imagined he'd awaken again—so fortunate, to encounter Dong Huang Tai Xin, the Emperor Immortal, and Emperor Jue across the myriad realms; in the Youming Continent, to meet Hong Chen Liu Dao and Little Monkey Emperor; now, on the Xuanhuang Continent, he met Qin Yu's mother—and again, he found the Divine Weapon.

He did not know when his karmic fate would end, nor when his life would finally see dawn.

But he believed—his destined path must have an end. That end would be the cycle of Great Chu.

"Who are you?" A childish voice suddenly asked.

Hearing it, he snapped his head up.

As his gaze settled, he saw a stone stele, and beneath it sat a child, about three or five years old, with two little braids sticking up, round bright eyes shimmering with a clear, spiritual light, quite fair and delicate, wearing a beast-skin jacket, looking very adorable, head tilted upward, gazing at the illusory Ximen Wudi, the very picture of a curious little baby.

Ximen Wudi's eyes grew fiery, staring fixedly at the child; that little face bore a resemblance to Ye Ling, especially those big eyes, identical to his own — he could be certain, this was the child of him and Ling Feng.

"He's my child, the crystallization of Daddy and Mommy. Daddy, hold me." The little one ran over, tilting his small head up, looking at Ximen Wudi with eyes full of hope.

"You…."

Before Ximen Wudi could speak, the little one had already scrambled up and thrown himself into Ximen Wudi's arms, small arms wrapping around Ximen Wudi's neck, little face buried in Ximen Wudi's shoulder, wailing and sobbing — perhaps out of grievance, perhaps out of excitement.

"Child, I am your father. What is your name?" Ximen Wudi squatted down, gently stroking the child's plump little cheek, a tender smile on his face.

"My name is… Ye Fan." The little one said in a milky, childish voice.

Hearing this, Ximen Wudi laughed, his smile full of comfort and relief; that great name gave him sudden enlightenment — it should be the surname of him and Ling Feng.

His smile grew ever more kindly, ever more warm.

Ye Fan — a truly wonderful name, with a fine meaning: it signified that this, Ximen Wudi's eighth child, and the child of him and Ji Ningshuang, was destined to be extraordinary.

His smile drew a soft, quiet laugh from the woman.

She too was a woman with a story; in a flowing blue robe, she stood quietly upon the void, quietly watching this scene, a touch of warmth surfacing in her eyes — one could tell that he and that human woman were close, devoted friends.

"You are also called Ji Ningshuang," Ximen Wudi murmured softly, as if he could see the woman across a thousand zhang, as if he could feel her concern for him — a bond between those who suffered the same plight.

"What are you called?" The little one raised his small head, a pair of big dark eyes shining brightly, looking curiously at Ximen Wudi. "Are you really my father?"

"Mm, it's me. I am called Ximen Wudi." Ximen Wudi smiled gently.

"Ye Fan — I like this name." The little one giggled, his small hands clutching Ximen Wudi's lapels, nuzzling and rubbing, his little mouth going clack-clack as he spoke all manner of childish, uninhibited words, just like a little chatterbox — not only the name, but even his temperament was identical to Ximen Wudi's. The whole way he babbled and chirped nonstop, every sentence fresh and novel.

The woman drifted down lightly, produced a wine pot, and poured Ximen Wudi a cup of wine.

Ximen Wudi picked it up, took a small sip, then set the wine pot down — this pot of strong liquor, though fierce, had a fierce flavor all its own.

"Not used to it?" the woman asked.

"Strong liquor going down the throat — the taste is nothing special." Ximen Wudi chuckled, then took out a storage pouch and handed it to the woman; inside were many pills, some for healing wounds, some for replenishing essence — all of them pills he had refined back at the Yaochi Grand Feast. Coming to Xuanhuang this time, he had brought along a batch as a gift for her.

"Many thanks!" The woman smiled winsomely, then took out a jet-black jade slip and suspended it in midair. "This ancient jade slip is a sound-transmission talisman. Whenever you need my help, crush it."

"This…."

"I owe you a favor." The woman smiled lightly.