After ruthlessly kicking away the desperate, trembling middle-aged man who clung to him, Luo Changfeng stepped away without looking back. His expression remained indifferent, his pace neither hurried nor slow, as he headed toward the Luo Family Ancestral Land.
The late afternoon sun spilled a dying golden light across Qingshi Town, casting long shadows behind him—shadows that stretched but could not weigh him down. He walked as if burdened with memory, as if something in that man's plea stirred an echo from the past... but no, it passed. The moment was gone.
When Luo Changfeng arrived at the Luo Family's ancestral gates, the massive wooden doors stood tall and open, like a slumbering beast waiting to stir. Inside the courtyard, Luo Ping, current head of the family, stood stiffly at the entrance. His eyes searched the road ahead with unconcealed anxiety, hands clenched behind his back.
The moment he saw Luo Changfeng's familiar figure step past the gates, Luo Ping exhaled deeply. His shoulders finally relaxed.
"Patriarch Changfeng…" he greeted with a lowered head, his voice slightly tremulous. The relief in his eyes could not be hidden, nor could the burden that had just lifted from his chest.
So long as the elder was unharmed, everything was still salvageable. The Luo Family still had its pillar.
Luo Changfeng merely gave him a glance.
"Hmm," he murmured in acknowledgment. His eyes, sharp as ever, noticed Luo Ping's uncharacteristically stiff posture—but he said nothing of it. He walked past without pause, heading straight for his courtyard.
There was no need for idle words.
The recovery of his Bone Refinement Intermediate Stage had restored a measure of his strength, but it was far from enough. This realm, though it allowed him to maintain his dignity and command, could not protect the entire Luo Family should chaos descend on Qingshi Town once more.
He needed more.
To sit securely above the waves of unrest, to ensure no outside force dared threaten them again, he had to reach the peak of Bone Refinement—and then climb higher.
He must step into the Organ Refinement Realm.
Only then would the Luo Family's survival be guaranteed. Only then could he calmly observe the turbulence to come.
…
Back in the quiet sanctuary of his own courtyard, Luo Changfeng moved with familiarity. As the gates closed softly behind him, a hush descended, broken only by the faint chirping of insects hidden among the bamboo and plum trees.
He found an open patch of ground beneath an old pine and sat cross-legged.
He took in a deep breath, steady and even, before beginning to circulate his vital energy. His internal organs still bore signs of age and long decline, but slowly, steadily, his qi stirred within them.
The years might weigh heavy on his body, but his spirit burned resolute.
…
Meanwhile, at the main entrance of the Luo Family estate, Luo Ping watched the elder's retreating back disappear around a corner before turning swiftly and hurrying back to his own courtyard.
He moved faster than he normally would, nearly tripping over his own robes in his urgency.
"My son! My son!"
His voice rang through the air the moment he stepped into his personal courtyard.
Startled birds fluttered up from the trees.
Under the small stone pavilion at the center of the courtyard, Luo Chuan, the delicate young man in white, slowly raised his head from his tea. His eyebrows lifted in mild exasperation as he watched his father barge in like a flustered servant.
"Father… really, now," Luo Chuan said with a faint sigh, his voice laced with dry amusement. "Is this how the head of the Luo Family is supposed to carry himself?"
He lifted his teacup in a gesture both elegant and dismissive. "If others were to see you like this, what would they think?"
"Heh… isn't it just the two of us here?" Luo Ping scratched the back of his neck and gave a sheepish chuckle. "Besides, even if someone saw me, who would dare spread tales?"
Then, as if suddenly remembering the reason for his urgency, he waved his hand and said, "Enough of that. You should hear what just happened."
"Elder Changfeng returned safely, but he ran into a group of mountain bandits while out in Qingshi Town…"
"Bandits?" Luo Chuan's hand paused mid-motion, porcelain cup frozen just inches from his lips.
His calm, languid expression faltered for an instant. The shadows beneath his eyes deepened as a cold glint flickered through them. He lowered the cup slowly and stared at his father.
Though Elder Changfeng's strength had diminished with age, and his body was frail—half a step into the grave, some would say—he was still the soul of the Luo Family. His presence alone kept many threats at bay.
If anything had happened to him…
"Which group of bandits?" Luo Chuan asked, his voice low.
Luo Ping frowned slightly, thinking back to what the guards had reported. "Our house servants say they likely came from the Blackwind Stockade—some small mountain stronghold outside Qingshi Town."
"Blackwind Stockade…" Luo Chuan murmured.
He leaned back against the pavilion post, his eyes narrowed in contemplation. After a moment of silence, he asked, "How was Patriarch Changfeng's condition upon return?"
"His complexion was radiant. His spirit… vigorous. But…"
Luo Ping hesitated, the corner of his mouth twitching.
"It feels more like the brilliance of a dying flame. A final burst of light before the candle goes out. I can't say how long he can maintain this state."
Luo Chuan did not respond. He merely stared into the distance, lost in thought.
…
While the Luo Family quietly processed what had occurred, over at the Zhao Family's estate—their sworn enemies—similar news had reached eager ears.
"Qian'er, are you certain about this?"
The voice echoed in the cool, shaded study at the Zhao Family's ancestral residence. The furnishings were austere, and the air held a faint chill, like a prelude to winter.
Zhao Qian, the Zhao Family's Young Master, stood by the window with excitement barely concealed in his eyes. His lips curled into a smirk.
"Yes, Father. Absolutely. I saw it with my own eyes."
"That decrepit old thing from the Luo Family actually left the ancestral compound and wandered through Qingshi Town like some common elder."
"And then…" He leaned in slightly. "He was ambushed. A gang of bandits."
Zhao Qian's voice dropped to a whisper, as though relishing the dramatic reveal.
Zhao Wu, the Zhao Family's patriarch, frowned slightly.
"You say you saw it?"
"Of course!" Zhao Qian's answer came a little too fast. "He was surrounded by bandits, but unfortunately—" his voice dipped in disappointment, "he had quite a few Luo house servants with him. They protected him and escorted him back."
"Shame," Zhao Wu muttered.
Had the old man died outside, it might have shattered the Luo Family's fragile unity. Their three internal factions would turn on each other like wolves.
A perfect opportunity missed.
But… that also meant the Luo Family understood how important that old man was. Naturally, they wouldn't let him roam alone. Zhao Wu sighed.
Still, something about his son's report didn't sit right.
"And how did the old man look when he returned?" Zhao Wu asked suddenly, his sharp eyes narrowing. "What was his state of mind? His health?"
"This, uh… this…" Zhao Qian hesitated. His confidence faltered.
Zhao Wu's gaze hardened.
"This isn't something you actually saw with your own eyes, is it?"
The room fell into a tense silence.
Zhao Wu's attention shifted past his son and toward a figure in the back—a servant of the Zhao Family, eyes downcast, posture stiff.
"Why don't you tell me," Zhao Wu said coolly, ignoring his son's flustered expression, "what exactly you saw today?"
"How did the old man from the Luo Family look? Was his breathing labored? Was he being supported?"
The servant stepped forward reluctantly. He swallowed.
"Reporting to the Patriarch. Luo Changfeng walked under his own strength. His posture was straight, and his expression calm."
"His complexion… actually appeared quite healthy."
Zhao Wu's eyes narrowed further. "Go on."
"There were no signs of trembling or weakness. No one was holding him up. He seemed…" the servant hesitated again, "…revitalized. As though he had recovered some strength."
Zhao Wu remained silent for a long time.
Then, with a deep sigh, he leaned back in his chair.
"So, the old ghost still clings to life…"
His voice trailed off, but the cold glint in his eyes grew more intense.
"Very well," Zhao Wu murmured.
"Then we'll just have to wait a little longer."
…
Back at the Luo Family estate, Luo Changfeng remained seated beneath the ancient pine, eyes closed, breath steady. Threads of vital energy slowly circulated through his body, scraping through meridians that had long grown dry and brittle.
Each cycle brought pain—but it also brought life.
He thought of the young man begging on the streets. Of the casino that swallowed his soul. Of the town's people, teetering on the edge of ruin.
This town… this family… this world—it had changed so much in the years he'd been gone.
But he had returned.
And he would not let it fall.
Not while he still drew breath.