Chapter 462 - Outstanding Move, Gaining All the Advantages, Breaking Through to Third Rank - Part 2

Days passed.

And though the rhythms of daily life slowly returned to the barbarian lands, the absence of the old Khagan left behind a void. It was a story turned legend, one that would forever be etched into the memory of this frozen tundra.

The wind howled endlessly. The snow never stopped falling. Darkness and cold would remain the eternal backdrop of this land.

One day, Meng Xingxian ordered the guards stationed outside the Deathless Tomb to stand down, then led thousands of direwolves toward its entrance.

The sight before them was strange and desolate. Gigantic, translucent ice pillars jutted from the ground at every angle, stabbing toward the sky like the fangs of some ancient beast. Two towering walls of ice rose ahead, forming a passageway that led deep into the unseen distance.

Meng Xingxian tilted her head upward and spotted them. Two eerie, pitch-black crows were perched atop the frozen wall, one on the left, one on the right, watching her silently.

She raised her voice slightly and called, “Sister-in-law.”

One crow tilted its head, glossy black eyes unblinking, and then spoke in a hoarse, rasping voice, “You...you’re Ranran’s wife.”

Meng Xingxian nodded slowly. “Father-in-law has passed away. Grand Matron Tang has taken his remains.” She hesitated, then softened her tone. “You don’t need to guard this place anymore.”

The crow fell silent.

She waited patiently, her posture calm and respectful. Then, gently, she tried again. “Come with me. It’s bitterly cold here. You shouldn’t suffer in this place any longer.”

The crow cocked its head, seeming to deliberate...then croaked flatly, “No.”

Meng Xingxian’s lips curved faintly, unshaken. “The current Khagan needs your help. You are his eldest sister. From now on, we’re one family, walking the same road, facing the same enemies. There are still many battles ahead of us...we need you with us.”

The crow blinked once and rasped again: “No.”

Meng Xingxian’s eyes narrowed, calculating, and she tried another angle. “Truthfully...I find Father-in-law’s death suspicious. He suddenly went to the bonfire, praying for Tengsur’s blessing, and then...this?

“Don’t you think someone might have whispered into his ear, manipulating him from the shadows? Come with me. We need to uncover the truth together. We cannot allow Father-in-law to die in vain.”

Her voice was low, solemn, and sincere. Each word was carefully woven to pierce the heart.

But the crow only stared at her...and said, “No.”

“...” Meng Xingxian fell silent.

Then the crow flapped its wings once, letting out a harsh cry. “None of you are allowed to enter this place.”

Meng Xingxian’s voice dropped, almost pleading. “That’s for others. I—”

“You’re not allowed either!” the crow screeched, feathers puffing up. “Ranran isn’t allowed either! No one is allowed!”

“...” Meng Xingxian fell silent once more. Her patience finally frayed, and she asked, “Why?”

The crow let out a low, strange chuckle. “Hehehe... You think I’ll fall for your tricks?”

Meng Xingxian steadied her breath. “...Father-in-law is gone.”

The crow cut her off, squawking sharply, “I’m not falling for it!”

“...” Meng Xingxian stared at the crow in exasperation. Then she snapped at last, her tone colder. “Go see for yourself if you don’t believe me!”

The crow immediately shook its head, hopping once along the ice wall. “Not looking, not looking! Not falling for it!”

Meng Xingxian stared at the yawning mouth of the Deathless Tomb, her jaw tightening. Behind her, thousands of two-headed direwolves were crouched low, muscles tense, ready to spring. On any ordinary battlefield, they could slaughter these two crows with ease.

But here...here was different. Once inside the Deathless Tomb, the power shifted. The direwolves would be slaughtered like lambs.

Even if she brought her entire army, even if she unleashed every last beast under her command, the result would not change.

Staring into the cold depths of the tomb, a heavy, crushing weight settled upon her heart.

For the first time in many years, Meng Xingxian felt something she loathed more than anything else—powerlessness.

She had thought that with the old Khagan’s death, the Deathless Tomb would finally fall back into her hands. She was wrong.

Meng Xingxian looked up at the black crows perched atop the icy wall and spoke softly, her voice gentle as falling snow. “Sister-in-law...I’ll come see you again in a few days.”

One of the crows tilted its head, feathers ruffling, and croaked sharply, “Don’t come! I’m not falling for your tricks!”

There was nothing more she could do.

With a faint sigh, Meng Xingxian turned, leading the vast pack of two-headed direwolves away from the tomb’s entrance.

Behind her, the sound of countless crows echoed into the wind, a mocking chorus of

caws

fading into the distance.

˙·٠✧🐗➶➴🏹✧٠·˙

Gemhill County, Hidden River Province.

Not far from Yan Yu’s temple, a very different scene played out.

A sleek black crow hopped across the ground and brushed its wing playfully against a tiny gray sparrow perched beside it.

In a voice soft enough to almost sound conspiratorial, the crow whispered, “Papa, you faked your death again, didn’t you?”

“...” The little sparrow said nothing.

The crow’s beady black eyes gleamed as it leaned closer. “Papa, this time you even left behind an entire skeleton. How

did

you pull that off?”

“...” The sparrow remained silent.

Unbothered, the crow hopped up onto the gnarled branches of an old locust tree, spreading its wings dramatically as it swayed left and right.

“Papa, I think one of my two crow souls is about to

become

this tree. I’ve been waiting here so long, I might just take root.”

“...” Still, the sparrow said nothing. But then, it fluttered up and landed on the branch beside the crow.

That was all the confirmation needed. Li Yuan was alive. Perfectly, quietly, infuriatingly alive.

After all, if he were dead, he would’ve lost control over the sparrow long ago.

˙·٠✧🐗➶➴🏹✧٠·˙

Elsewhere, Cui Huayin’s group had already made their swift retreat, leaving the Western Extremes behind.

Beyond those bleak, frozen lands, the season had shifted. Here, at the edge of the wilderness, early summer had already arrived.

The sunlight was neither too cold nor too harsh, spilling across the earth in blinding swathes of gold. Fresh yellow-green grass spread across the fields, clumps of wild trees swaying softly in the warm breeze.

Life, fragile yet relentless, was returning.

But amidst this early summer calm, Ping'an suddenly rushed forward, cutting off the three women leading the group. His face was wet, his eyes red, his chest heaving as he choked out the words:

“Third Mother, Fourth Mother, Aunt Yao...tell me. Please. How did Father die? Did he really...did he

really

die?”

Cui Huayin and Jing Shuixiang exchanged a glance but remained silent, their faces pale, their lips pressed tight.

Yao Jue, however, lowered her head. Her eyes were swollen, her cheeks streaked with tears. Her voice cracked as she whispered, “We...we saw his bones, Ping’an. His bones were cold. How could he not be dead? Ah, Master, Master...”

The long-legged beauty couldn’t hold it in any longer. Her voice broke completely, and she wept bitterly, shoulders trembling.

“But... but...” Ping'an clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles went white. “But I don’t believe it! I

don’t!

” He grabbed Yao Jue’s shoulders, his grip desperate, his eyes wide and wild. “Aunt Yao, listen to me! Father isn’t dead! He

can’t

be dead!”

His breathing grew ragged, his voice rising, almost hysterical. “Last time, everyone thought he was dead too! Everyone! But he wasn’t. He just shed his skin and slipped away! This time...this time it’s the same! It

has

to be!”

Yao Jue’s sobs grew louder as she tilted her tear-streaked face toward the sky, her voice breaking with a raw, aching plea.

“Master, Master, if you’re only pretending, if you’re alive out there somewhere, give us a sign! Just one! So we don’t have to keep drowning in this grief... Master...!”

Her cry tore into the silence, and soon Ping'an was wailing too, the sound choked and messy.

Finally, Cui Huayin’s voice cut sharply through the chaos. “Enough.”

The words were flat, cold, but they carried weight.

Yao Jue’s sobs halted instantly, though tears still streamed down her face.

Ping'an turned to her in shock, his red-rimmed eyes burning with accusation. “Third Mother...how can you say that?! How can you just...stop like this? Don’t you, don’t you even care about Father? Do you—”

Cui Huayin’s gaze slid toward him, icy and unreadable. “The world has changed, Ping’an. The chaos is over. The Central Plains are unified again. Order is being restored. We’re going back to the Holy Tree Temple. Are you coming?”

Ping'an froze, his breath hitching. After a long silence, he swung his arm violently and shouted, “I’m

not

going! I’m not going anywhere with you!”

Her expression remained calm. “Then where will you go?”

His voice rose again, raw and stubborn. “That’s none of your business!”

But as he turned away, his furious momentum faltered. Because there they were. His wives, his sons, his daughters, standing behind him, watching him with tearful, weary faces.

And in that moment, something inside Ping'an cracked. It hit him all at once, heavy and merciless. For all his anger, for all his bluster, for all his desperation, he was still just a child.

Even though Ping'an had so many children already, in this moment, he realized a cruel truth about himself. He wasn’t a good father. And he wasn’t a good son either.

He turned to look at his wives, tears spilling down his face, forcing a fragile smile as he spoke softly, “You should all follow Third Mother and Fourth Mother back to the Holy Tree Temple. It’ll be safer there... I—” his voice cracked, “I’ve found an opportunity, a chance for me to grow stronger. When I’ve seized it, I’ll come back.”

Liu Liuxue stepped forward, her eyes brimming with determination. “We’ll go with you. Wherever you go, we’ll follow.”

Ping'an’s lips trembled, but his voice was gentle, almost pleading. “No. Go back to the Holy Tree Temple first... Later, I’ll return to you. I promise.”

And before anyone could stop him, he turned and bolted toward the wilderness. In just a few leaps, his figure vanished into the distance.

“Ping’an!”

“Father!!”

His wives, his daughters, their voices tore into the wind, but Ping'an never looked back.

Crying broke out behind him, soft at first, then spreading like ripples through the group.

It was a long time before Cui Huayin’s voice cut through the sorrow, flat and steady. “Have you cried enough?”

Liu Liuxue wiped her cheeks and stepped forward, her voice shaking. “Third Mother, we—”

“Ping’an will be fine,” Cui Huayin interrupted calmly. “For now, we return to the Holy Tree Temple.”

She exchanged a quiet glance with Yao Jue, something unspoken passed between them, silent as a shadow. Then they both looked once more toward the direction Ping'an had run, only to turn away together.

“Let’s go,” Jing Shuixiang said softly. “The Holy Tree Temple is far...we still have a long road ahead.”

Yao Jue hesitated, then whispered, “Let’s walk slowly. If Ping’an regrets it, maybe...maybe he’ll catch up to us.”

˙·٠✧🐗➶➴🏹✧٠·˙

Meanwhile, Ping'an was stumbling like a man possessed, running blindly through the wilderness.

He slipped, fell, dragged himself up, then fell again—again and again, until his clothes were caked in dirt, his body scraped and bruised. More than once, he tumbled off jagged cliff edges, clinging to loose rocks as his breath tore from his chest.

By the time he reached his training grounds, he was filthy, exhausted, and desperate. His throat burned as he yelled into the wind.

“Master!! Master!!!”

For a long time, there was no response. Then, finally, a soft rustle—out from a grove of wild blossoms stepped a man with a calm, elegant face, his long hair crowned with a delicate wreath of flowers.

Ping'an fell to his knees instantly, grabbing onto the man’s robes, sobbing so hard he could hardly breathe.

“Master!!”

The Revival Tree God regarded him gently, his voice mild but steady. “Is it true? Your father...has really died?”

Ping'an choked on his words, his voice breaking, “Master, you...you already know. My father, he...my father...” He couldn’t finish the sentence.

The Revival Tree God lowered his hand and stroked Ping'an’s messy hair, his tone quiet and deliberate. “Tell me everything. From the beginning. How did he die?”

Ping'an sat down heavily, sucking in deep, ragged breaths before beginning to recount the entire story in painful detail.

The Revival Tree God listened in silence, occasionally interjecting with sharp, precise questions. Bit by bit, he pieced together the details. A master strategist, cunning and patient, the Revival Tree God soon reached the truth Ping'an couldn’t see.

The man named Li Yuan...had crossed paths with a hidden force buried deep within the Western Extremes.

Faced with that power, he’d made his choice, to merge himself with the withered flame. If he succeeded, he would gain enough strength to stand against that force. If he failed...his death would be an offering of peace, ensuring the safety of his loved ones, giving his family and allies the chance to retreat unharmed.

But merging with the withered flame? That was no path meant for mortals.

Borrowing Yang to forge a new body, that was already the essence of Heaven Soul cultivation, a path that balanced on the knife’s edge between life and death. But merging with the flame entirely? That...was madness.

The Revival Tree God slowly shook his head, his voice deep with quiet respect and regret. “Your father was a hero of his age. Even if his body has perished, he’s carved a legend into this world, one that will be sung for a thousand years, for ten thousand more.”

Closing his eyes briefly, he fell silent, then spoke again, his tone shifting, deliberate and careful. “Ping’an did you know? Every single cultivation technique within the Holy Tree Temple...has problems.”

“Ah?” Ping'an froze. He stared blankly at the Revival Tree God, thrown off balance by the sudden change in topic. After a long pause, he remembered something. “My father...my father told me the same thing. That’s why he told Third Mother, Fourth Mother, and Aunt Yao to stop cultivating.”

The Revival Tree God’s voice was calm, yet every word carried weight. “Go ask them. If there were a place where they could repair the flaws in their cultivation and step onto the true path of refining both body and soul...would they be willing to go?”

Ping'an blinked, caught off guard. “Huh? What place?”

The Revival Tree God turned his gaze toward the distant horizon, his tone measured and faintly reverent. “The Eastern Sea’s Immortal Domain, a land where Yin and Yang flourish in perfect balance.

“The Five Elements Alliance all trace their roots back there. I, too, came from that place. In fact, all the legends of

transcendent powers

across this entire continent, their origins lie in the Eastern Sea.” He paused briefly, letting the weight of his words settle before continuing, “Now, I intend to take you there...to join my sect, the Arcane Supreme Sect.”

Ping'an froze completely. For a long time, he couldn’t speak. Honestly, he didn’t doubt his master’s words at all. After more than a year together, he had come to understand just how terrifying the Revival Tree God truly was.

In the Revival Tree God’s eyes, whether it was himself, or Third Mother, or Fourth Mother, or Aunt Yao...they were all ants. Nothing more.

But he still didn’t understand. Stammering, he asked, “M-Master, why...why are you suddenly telling me all this?”

The Revival Tree God smiled faintly, a rare softness touching his otherwise distant face. “Because I believe a man like Li Yuan deserves to shine beyond his time. Perhaps...this is my way of honoring him.”

Ping'an nodded, swallowing hard. “Third Mother and the others shouldn’t have gone far. I’ll go ask them.”