Chapter 316

Being too senior, or positioned too far forward in the sedan chair, isn't always a good thing.

Those in the sedan chairs behind had all witnessed Zhao Yi's madness. Zhao Shan'an, even after noticing the anomaly in Zhao Yi, didn't immediately consider such an extreme possibility.

Because it defied logic.

A wave has inertia.

In this current wave, following its flow, first killing a member of the Zhao family, then disguising their identity, and finally infiltrating the Zhao ancestral home to assassinate the Grand Elder—this aligns with the experience of past tides.

The river doesn't flow in a straight line; there's always a build-up, a process.

But this time, things changed.

When the Second Elder laid everything bare and dropped the pretense, Zhao Shan'an's heart skipped a beat, and he swiftly retreated.

But as soon as his toes touched the ground, he found the Second Elder had reappeared before him. His form was ghostly, yet his face remained amiable.

Zhao Shan'an's body tensed again, trying to continue his retreat, but the Second Elder had already moved, placing himself in Zhao Shan'an's inevitable path of retreat.

The old man held a lantern in one hand, while the other formed a palm strike, waiting for someone to take the bait.

However, what collided with him was not Zhao Shan'an himself, but a sword.

The old man was somewhat surprised.

To conceal one's weapon and act when the time is right—this sword strike had likely been planned since the very first step of retreat.

More subtle than his swordsmanship was this person's disposition.

The old man pressed his palm down, separated and then closed his index and middle fingers, gripping the sword blade. His gaze sharpened, his aura solidified, standing firm as a mountain.

Zhao Shan'an did not continue to apply force through the sword. Forcibly shaking a mountain would surely lead to the destruction of his sword and his own death.

A low growl escaped his throat, his ten fingers raised, and Zhao Shan'an assumed an opening stance.

The prepared old man not only didn't detect the sword's rapid advance, but instead noticed its momentum rapidly weakening. Then, irregular patterns appeared on the blade, which cracked, transforming into sharp fragments. As they spun and thrust, they also formed a rotating array.

The old man had no choice but to release his grip and retreat three steps, each step accompanied by a hand swipe, batting back all the bee-like sharp fragments before him.

Zhao Shan'an made a gesture, and the broken sword returned, re-forming into a complete sword.

The old man stroked his hand and smiled, "What exquisite swordsmanship."

Zhao Shan'an's breathing grew heavier, and his gaze was serious. Although he had successfully forced his opponent back, it was merely the utmost evasion under the other's immense pressure.

The old man flicked his lantern, and its light turned blue, faintly revealing circulating sword energy.

"Youngster, take this strike from an old man."

There were no fancy sword forms; the lantern struck directly, its inner light transforming into flowing, radiant energy. In an instant, countless sword intents seemed to surge forth.

Zhao Shan'an continuously swung his sword, dissolving each sword intent, but the other party merely used a simple move, while he had to break it with such complexity.

At every opportune moment, the old man would lightly flick his lantern, scattering sword intents at his opponent as if they were free.

Zhao Shan'an was as if trapped in this endless sword array. If it continued, he would surely be exhausted to death here.

This was the art of a truly skilled strategist—winning without fanfare, without wanting to suffer the slightest loss, not even a scratch.

But at the same time, Zhao Shan'an felt a deep sense of confusion:

The old man's actual age was far greater than he appeared. Logically, at this age, he should have entered the stage of declining vital energy, and pursuing an ultimate quick kill for a short burst of power would be the correct choice, rather than such a wasteful display.

Regardless of what secrets lay within the Zhao family, at this moment, Zhao Shan'an had to break the deadlock first.

His body spun, Zhao Shan'an no longer displayed the elderly demeanor of a clan elder, and his long sword assumed its stance.

With one sword strike, moonlight scattered, forcibly repelling the sword intent encircling him.

With another strike, the horizon became within reach, and Zhao Shan'an appeared before the old man.

But at this point, anyone with discernment could see that Zhao Shan'an was at the end of his tether after a series of moves.

The old man made to lift his lantern, intending to finish him off with one strike, but his expression suddenly froze, and he immediately retreated.

Zhao Shan'an's skin curled and contracted to his chest, transforming into a short sword, which pierced towards the old man like a streak of light.

The old man tried to receive it with his fingertips while retreating, but his finger trembled, and not only did it bleed from the wound, but it was also repelled by the sword energy on the short sword.

Though its momentum waned, its power remained, heading directly for the old man's chest.

"Pffft!"

It pierced an inch and could go no further. The old man tried to pull the sword out but was wary of the terrifying sword intent remaining on the blade. Finally, he formed hand seals to seal the short sword, and only then did it fall away on its own.

The old man's face finally lost its kind and amiable expression, his eyes darkening as he looked at the opponent who had shed her human skin.

It was a woman.

The woman looked very young, the same age as Zhao Yi, but her white hair obscured the youthfulness and vivacity typical of her age.

Her eyes were not cold and aloof; the area around her eyes was stained with an unyielding crimson.

"Are you surnamed Xi? I never thought the Xi family of Huaiyin would have descendants. Everyone thought Dragon King Liu Qingcheng of the Liu family had long since annihilated the entire Xi family."

"I am not surnamed Xi."

"Young lady, don't be afraid. Although the Liu family is still a Dragon King's lineage, it's no longer what it once was. You can openly say you are surnamed Xi."

"I am not surnamed Xi."

Blood continuously flowed from the woman's sword-holding right hand, gathering along the blade to the tip before dripping onto the ground. The previous killing move, which seemed to injure her opponent, had only made him bleed a little.

As for her, her internal energy was already in disarray, making her very uncomfortable.

But in the woman's eyes, there was a mix of fear and excitement, with red gradually covering everything.

The old man said, "And you still say you're not surnamed Xi? That gaze is exactly like the Xi family Sword Devil described in books."

The Xi family of Huaiyin was once known for their sword obsession, but later, their entire family's legacy seemed to go astray, transforming from obsession into devilry.

Members of the Xi family also frequently traveled the rivers, gaining great renown on the water, yet not a single one ever became a Dragon King. Moreover, every person who defeated a Xi family member and broke their sword later became the Dragon King of that generation.

Therefore, the Xi family was once known as the whetstone of Dragon Kings.

Of course, there were also rumors that the Xi family's swords were too demonic, their murderous intent too difficult to control, and thus Heaven's Dao would arrange for the true elites of each generation to break the Xi family's swords in advance.

Not all elites of every generation could become Dragon Kings, but a Dragon King was certainly one of the elites of their generation, which made it a probabilistic phenomenon.

Later, it was Liu Qingcheng who ended the Xi family.

Martial arts rumors claimed that this Dragon King of the Liu family once had a close friend who died by a Xi family member's sword. After Liu Qingcheng became Dragon King, she personally went to the Xi family of Huaiyin and slaughtered their entire family.

Although various reasons were given to absolve her—such as the Xi family collectively going mad and committing atrocities, and the Liu family Dragon King nipping the rebellion in the bud—it was ultimately hard to convince everyone.

Moreover, that Liu family Dragon King had done quite a few similar things; many of her early opponents on the river later had their families and sects purged by her. This also became a major blemish on that generation's Liu family Dragon King.

Furthermore, the time she spent suppressing the martial world after becoming Dragon King was much shorter than previous Dragon Kings. Some said she pursued the Dragon King position solely for revenge, and after her revenge was complete, her obsession dissipated, leading her to self-dissolution; others said her actions displeased Heaven's Dao, and she was punished by Heaven's Dao.

Such martial arts rumors, sometimes like myths, are inevitably distorted, even completely opposite to the truth.

But if Li Zhuiyuan were here and heard the old man mention that Liu family Dragon King, he would likely immediately recall how Granny Liu had hesitated to speak about the ancestral tablet inscribed with "Liu Qingcheng."

The woman raised her sword, and the bloodstains on the blade began to tremble slightly, connected to her heart's pulse. This was a literal sense of man and sword becoming one.

Before learning her identity from the demonic sword intent, the old man would have thought this act was simply a desperate attempt. But now, the old man knew she was mobilizing the sword nurtured within her body.

Legend says that every Xi family member, at full moon, would have a needle-sized sword inserted into their heart meridian by a family elder, nurturing the sword with their body, only to release it at the moment of death, to perish with their enemy.

The old man felt somewhat relieved. If he had finished her off earlier, he might have ended up with a gaping hole in his own body.

He could afford to endure, but not to be injured.

This time, the woman struck first, a long rainbow pouring down.

This reckless fighting style truly meant she was seeking death to release her sword.

The old man closed in, first pushing away the sword's edge with one palm, then striking the woman with another.

"Bang!"

The woman flew backward like a kite with a broken string and landed.

But the sword was still in her hand. She supported herself with the sword, stood up again, ignored the blood continuously flowing from her mouth, and came again, swinging her sword.

The sword's edge was blocked by the old man's knee, followed by a kick that sent the woman flying again.

Round and round, through five cycles of engagement, the woman was repeatedly struck heavily by the old man, yet each time, she managed to stand up again.

The old man continuously wounded her but did not follow up with killing blows, instead aiming to diminish her momentum and sever her functions. By the time she died, even if the sword were released, its threat would be minimal.

The woman swayed, her eyes filled with determination, and she charged again with her sword. This time, the sword tip pointed down, the hilt held to her chest.

It was clearly meant to be her final strike; if it didn't pierce the enemy, it would pierce herself.

The old man struck with a single palm, its momentum like a tide, deflecting the sword's edge.

The hilt came loose from the woman's hand, and the blade pierced her chest—the sword-nurturing position.

The old man flicked with a single finger, striking the woman's body. The woman flew backward, and the old man also rapidly retreated, creating the maximum distance as quickly as possible.

However, the anticipated final sword strike was not seen. After landing from being knocked back, the woman immediately pulled the sword from her chest, then fled rapidly without even turning her head.

The old man froze, a profound sense of absurdity washing over him.

Had he been fooled?

The woman had clearly pierced the sword-nurturing position earlier, yet the sword had not flown out. This indicated that the woman had not nurtured a sword within her body.

"You really aren't surnamed Xi."

The old man looked at the direction the woman fled in, then at the ancestral home's main gate, choosing not to pursue.

He walked to the short sword, picked it up. The short sword had been sealed by him, but he could still feel the demonic sword intent within it. This indeed was a Xi family sword.

The old man suddenly thought of a possibility: perhaps the Xi family truly had been annihilated by Liu Qingcheng, and the woman had perhaps obtained the Xi family's legacy by chance.

Without a master's guidance, she had practiced to this extent solely based on a found legacy...

"Are there so many geniuses in this generation of the martial world?"

The old man walked back with the short sword. When he reached the ancestral home's entrance and tried to push the door open, he found it wouldn't budge.

"This..."

The old man exerted force again, but the door remained motionless.

Taking a breath, the old man pushed the door with his palm.

"Boom!"

The old man was sent flying backward, landing with a thump, and a coppery taste rose in his throat.

The nameplate hanging on the lantern also fell to the ground at this moment, splitting in half. This was the artifact that could activate the ancestral home's array formations.

The old man couldn't get in.

Because the lock had been changed.

The family's ancestral home's array formations naturally couldn't stump the most brilliant genius in their family in a hundred years.

Not to mention, Zhao Yi had long begun his research into their family's array formations and had even bound his findings into a book, which he had gifted to someone.

Whenever he encountered difficulties he couldn't resolve himself, he would pull that person in to ponder together, borrowing their intellect.

At this moment, all he needed was an undisturbed period of time.

Zhao Yi placed his hopes on "Zhao Shan'an."

The person who dared to replace the clan leader and travel the rivers alone must be a very strong fighter.

And indeed, it was true.

When Zhao Yi finished modifying the array formation, the fighting outside was still ongoing.

For a moment, even Zhao Yi wasn't sure whether that person was too strong, or their own elders were too weak.

His fingertips fiddled with the door bolt, letting it fall.

A smile appeared on Zhao Yi's face.

"That guy Li," he thought, "secretly changing locks is so interesting."

Zhao Yi turned and walked alone through the ancestral home.

The layout of the ancestral home was identical to the outer quarters, the only difference being that only five elders lived here.

There were no servants, and it was silent as a tomb.

The real tombs were in the ancestral home's back garden, where flowers and plants flourished year-round, and many coffins were buried underneath.

Diagonally opposite was the ancestral home's treasury.

Naturally, no living supplies needed to be stored there, so it was the Zhao family's treasure vault.

Zhao Yi had once reminded Li Zhuiyuan that an old undying one was hidden in the treasury, surviving by relying on a treasure inside.

Arriving at the main hall courtyard, five grand armchairs were placed on the elevated platform, with cushions below.

Three elders were seated in the armchairs, leaving two empty.

Those two empty seats belonged to the Grand Elder and the Second Elder.

Zhao Yi stood there, looking at the three seated elders.

They were all wearing the traditional blue garments of the Zhao family, appearing majestic and dignified.

However, they all had their eyes closed, deep in slumber.

Whenever ancestor worship ceremonies were held here in the past, all five elders would be seated, but only the Second Elder would truly open his eyes to perform the ritual.

This meant that in this ancestral home, only the Second Elder could move freely.

This did not mean that the other elders were dead or had some problem; rather, it simply wasn't worth it.

The first time Zhao Yi witnessed such a scene, he saw through the crack in the door of life and death that the Second Elder was full of vitality, as if continuously infused with living water, while the vitality of the other four elders was largely depleted, with the Grand Elder being the most affected.

At first, Zhao Yi didn't understand what this meant. Later, he realized it was about squeezing out their last bit of vitality to cling to life as long as possible.

And once their vitality was completely drained, they would be placed into coffins, continuing to exist in another form.

If no one awakened them, unless these three elders spontaneously awoke, they were almost completely cut off from the outside world.

They didn't know it was the day of ancestor worship; their presence here from their respective rooms was due to the Second Elder transporting them.

Following the normal flow of events, at this point, the replaced clan leader, accompanied by the Fourth Branch, should be kneeling on the cushions, bowing in reverence to the seated elders.

However, the purpose of their current wave was to kill the Grand Elder, yet the Grand Elder was not seated here.

Zhao Yi guessed that the Grand Elder was nearing his limit, ready to lie in his coffin at any moment, and was unsuitable to be moved out at this time.

Currently, these three elders were quiet and harmless.

Unless you revealed murderous intent before them.

A killing opportunity is easy to hide, but murderous intent is difficult.

Zhao Yi had no murderous intent.

His gaze was clear, with only loyalty to the Zhao family in his eyes.

He admired his ancestors and revered the ancestral teachings.

When he bowed before the ancestral tablet in Nantong, the ancestors manifested, and the divination predicted great fortune.

When even the ancestors stood by him, no one in the entire Zhao family, from top to bottom, had the right to question his attitude towards the Zhao family.

So, how could there be any murderous intent? He was merely cleaning the house.

Zhao Yi placed his hands in his sleeves, and when he withdrew them, his fingers were holding numerous silver needles.

He walked behind the Fifth Elder and pricked the Fifth Elder's head with the silver needles one by one.

After finishing, Zhao Yi stood behind the Fourth Elder, following the same pattern.

Next, it was the Third Elder.

The scene looked chilling; such behavior was clearly elder abuse.

Zhao Yi remained calm throughout, his hand not trembling once, as nonchalant as if he were applying makeup to the three elders.

Having experienced the secret art from the black leather book last time, Zhao Yi was deeply shaken.

In his eyes, that secret art was almost the ultimate sublimation of all puppetry arts, but unfortunately, it was a taboo.

Zhao Yi couldn't learn or use it again, but this didn't prevent him from contemplating it conceptually and elevating his own puppetry to a new level.

Done.

Zhao Yi looked at the three elders, their bodies covered in needles, his gaze soft.

He guessed that the Second Elder's ability to remain awake might be related to his choices. Most likely, the Second Elder would not qualify to lie in a coffin and continue clinging to life.

But a question arose: where did the continuous flow of vitality into the Second Elder's body come from?

Zhao Yi had a vague guess in his heart.

Leaving this main courtyard, Zhao Yi walked to the treasury.

Two rows of stone lions stood at the treasury entrance.

Zhao Yi crossed his hands, continuously forming seals. The stone lions' eyes alternately flashed, and as white spiritual energy erupted from both sides, the restriction was temporarily lifted, and the treasury's main door opened.

Even so, to enter, one still had to continuously move according to specific directions, as there were too many array formations and restrictions inside to close all at once.

The interior of the treasury was much larger than it appeared from the outside. As Zhao Yi proceeded, he could see many good things piled up.

If that guy Li came in, he'd probably clap his hands happily and jump up and down, wouldn't he?

Though Zhao Yi tried hard, he couldn't imagine Li making such movements.

But that didn't stop Zhao Yi from letting a smile appear at the corner of his mouth.

He could now sense that the Second Branch's sedan chair was still at the crossroads.

This meant that Li was helping him block people.

To say he wasn't moved would be a lie.

He knew very well that for Li to make such a choice, there must be some past connection involved.

When someone gives you what they lack, the gesture means even more.

Before this, Zhao Yi's best-case scenario was that Li would stand by idly.

Actually, normally, Li should have helped that group, swarming in like a tide to open the Zhao family ancestral home and seize greater benefits amidst the chaos.

"Li," he thought, "if I don't repay you, will it worsen your condition?"

After a pause, Zhao Yi thought again:

"I really want to see your expression after your predictions fail and you're let down."

Walking to the deepest part of the treasury, what appeared before Zhao Yi was a long ice platform, on which sat a lamp.

This lamp was the one lit by Ancestor Zhao Wuyang when he traveled the rivers back then.

In the Zhao family, this lamp not only possessed the highest spiritual significance but was also imbued with a profound mystery due to its deepest karmic binding with the ancestor.

The value of an artifact, besides its material and craftsmanship, also depends on who used it.

As Zhao Yi stared at the lamp, the surface of the ice began to gradually reflect a human face.

Though this face was covered in frost, it still retained a hint of vitality.

Like a... frozen hairtail fish.

"Sigh," he thought, "I must have eaten too much braised hairtail fish in Nantong."

Zhao Yi wasn't sure why he would describe his ancestor from many generations ago with such malice in his mind.

But he simply couldn't control the thought.

He had seen plenty of the dead and evil spirits; no matter how poor or defiled their appearance, he wouldn't feel disgusted.

Yet, when such things carried the Zhao surname, that feeling of repulsion inexplicably surged.

Even living without dignity or self like this, they still refused to die.

Zhao Yi bowed down.

The skin on his back ripped open at the seams due to the large movement.

The human face slowly opened its eyes, first looking at Zhao Yi, then its eyes rolled upwards, looking at the lamp.

It had no consciousness, or rather, its consciousness was still dormant, retaining only the most basic instincts.

Whoever looked at the lamp, it would open its eyes.

It feared the lamp would be stolen.

Truly like a dog guarding its food.

Zhao Yi reached out, wanting to touch the lamp.

The eyes of the human face below widened.

Zhao Yi's hand stopped just before touching the lamp.

The eyes below had also widened to their fullest.

Zhao Yi pondered, his fingertips moving, using his fingernail to leave a line of birth characters on the ice surface in front of the lamp.

After writing, Zhao Yi withdrew his hand, turned, and walked out, leaving the place.

The eyes in the ice gradually closed, and the face slowly receded.

Leaving the treasure vault, Zhao Yi went to the back courtyard.

The Grand Elder held a transcendent position in the ancestral home; his courtyard, in the outer residence, was meant for the clan leader.

Entering the courtyard, then the hall, Zhao Yi reached for a lantern, and with a gentle flick, the lantern lit up, emitting a red glow.

Holding the lantern, he walked towards the bedroom.

The bed was ahead, but he kept walking without reaching it, and the surrounding furnishings were gradually being swallowed by darkness.

The red light of the lantern was first suppressed to a dark red, then slowly consumed, until finally... completely extinguished.

Zhao Yi stopped at this moment and squatted down. This action caused popping sounds throughout his body, and the clothes, which had merged with his skin, began to tear extensively.

His finger touched a pull ring. Zhao Yi grasped it and pulled upward.

"Click..."

Below, an opening appeared, and the previously extinguished lantern's light reappeared.

It was like a tomb, with a grave robber's hole opened from above.

Zhao Yi saw the old man sitting on a chair below, and the coffin placed beside him.

He hadn't even gone down yet; merely opening the cover, a rich, choking smell of mold rushed towards him.

Even a hundred elderly people on their deathbed, waiting to die and placed here, couldn't produce such a smell.

Zhao Yi leaped down.

It was quite a distance. Upon landing, Zhao Yi had to lower his center of gravity. When he straightened up again, a crack appeared on his face, starting from his glabella, running along his nose, all the way down to his jaw.

Zhao Yi tried to pinch the cracks on his face with his fingers, hoping to press them back together. Unfortunately, his face was not modeling clay.

There was nothing he could do but face his Grand Elder in this unseemly state.

He sat in the chair with his eyes closed, as if also in slumber.

But Zhao Yi knew he was awake.

Because he could see the circulation of vitality in a person, and the Grand Elder's nearly dried-up vitality was currently dissipating much faster than that of the three truly dormant elders outside.

He didn't even know how the Grand Elder could still extract it; even Ah You, when hungry, couldn't scrape the bottom of a pot as clean as he could.

"Grand Elder, are you awake?"

This call seemed to shatter the last shred of hope.

The Grand Elder's eyes slowly opened.

His eyes were very murky, but even this simple act of opening them instantly filled the room with pressure.

Zhao Yi's already tattered painted skin began to unconsciously curl, peel, and fall away.

"My Yi'er... you've returned."

"Yes, Grand Elder, I've returned."

Silence.

Zhao Yi didn't speak, nor did the Grand Elder speak again.

But Zhao Yi believed the other party would be the first to break the silence.

Because although his current appearance was pathetic, he was still very young.

"Yi'er, has something happened in the family? Is that why you've returned in person?"

"Grand Elder, the family is the same as before."

"The same as before? Is it time for ancestor worship? That day when I woke from a dream, Second Brother mentioned it to me. Yi'er, I didn't oversleep, did I?"

"No, you didn't. Today is indeed the day of ancestor worship."

"That's good. Hmm? Why didn't Second Brother move me outside for you all to kowtow?"

"The Second Elder is concerned about you."

"That Second Brother, he's truly senseless. He should know this is the last time I can sit and receive kowtows from the juniors."

"Grand Elder, haven't I come?"

"Yes, Yi'er, you've come to see me. That's very good."

Zhao Yi retreated a few steps, first performing the Zhao family's internal etiquette to the Grand Elder, then kneeling before him in an extremely standard posture.

His forehead touched the ground, remaining motionless.

The seeping blood continuously dripped, gradually spreading into a pool.

After a long time, the Grand Elder finally spoke:

"Yi'er's salute, I have received it."

Upon hearing this, Zhao Yi prepared to stand up.

"But Yi'er, why did you lock Second Brother outside?"

Zhao Yi's body froze.

"Second Brother is pacing anxiously outside now, hehe. In his life, only his swordsmanship is passable, and his knowledge of array formations is completely lacking.

You locked him outside; all he can do is stomp his feet in anxiety, he has no other choice.

Yi'er, you're truly an overgrown child, playing such jokes on your elders, hehe."

Zhao Yi continued to maintain his kneeling posture.

"Third, Fourth, and Fifth Elders, they're all sleeping soundly. What mischief have you been up to with them? When they wake up, they'll surely be so angry they'll blow their beards and glare. They're not as good-tempered or easy to talk to as Second Brother, you know.

At that time, if they want to spank your butt, they won't give me any face, and I won't be able to protect you, my little rascal."

The flesh on Zhao Yi's face had completely burst open, showing no expression.

"The stone statues are smashed, and the forest is burned. Our family territory hasn't been this lively in a long time.

Yi'er, you're really something. Guests from afar are guests. They merely have a cold constitution and wish to borrow a layer of skin to wear and warm themselves. This is precisely the hospitality our Zhao family should offer.

How could you be so stingy and turn hostile towards the guests directly?"

Blood continued to ooze. Zhao Yi's previous painted skin disguise was completely ruined, reducing him to a charred, bloodied figure.

"If too many guests arrive and you can't host them all, you should call us old folks! If the sky falls, we old farts will hold it up; it's not your turn yet.

Besides, the sky won't fall.

Yi'er, stand up!"

Zhao Yi stood up. He had knelt for too long, and his flesh had adhered to the floor tiles. As he rose, another large piece was torn away.

"Yi'er, do you know how long we old folks have been preparing for this day?"

"Since I was born?"

"More than that. It's been a very, very long time, many generations. Some things are only passed down from generation to generation in my position.

Don't let the turbulent outside world deceive you; we Zhao family members have long foreseen this day.

Our Zhao family has longed for a new Dragon King for too long.

We have been anticipating, hoping, that after our ancestor, another genius would emerge from our family.

At that time, all the accumulation and preparation will be poured onto him.

Yi'er, this is the wind accumulated by your ancestors for generations, helping you rise straight to the heavens.

All of us, whether seated or lying down, willingly become your steps, become a wave for you.

You will sever ties with us, swear allegiance to the Heavenly Dao, attain great merit,

shed your shackles, and achieve the dream of our Zhao clan."

After the Grand Elder finished speaking, Zhao Yi didn't respond. In the vast room, there was only the "drip-drop" sound of blood falling.

"What, Yi'er, don't you believe it?"

"Grand Elder, I don't believe it."

"Why?"

"Because if my Zhao family truly had such courage, it wouldn't be the Zhao family it is now."

"You can look down upon the current Zhao family. You can also feel that the accumulation of generations of ancestors cannot compare to the straightforward and honorable decisiveness of your killing on the river.

But you shouldn't speak of them in such a tone.

When they sat here, when they lay in their coffins, they truly harbored a great spirit of sacrifice, paving the way for future heroes.

Cough..."

With a cough, rolls of paintings fell from the surrounding walls. They depicted the Grand Elders of successive Zhao family generations.

Zhao Yi vividly remembered the oldest roll.

The Dragon King from humble origins was the foundation of the Zhao clan, but it was this ancestor who truly guided the Zhao family onto the right track, establishing the ancestral home and the nascent foundation of the Nine Rivers territory.

His ancestral tablet, in the ancestral hall, was ranked only below Zhao Wuyang.

Below the painting, there were his personally inscribed words:

"All sins are mine, may my Zhao clan establish a Dragon King's lineage."

And next, below each painting, there was a similar line of text.

The content was all about hoping the Zhao family could become a true Dragon King's lineage.

But each one began with a prefix:

"Willingly endure sin..."

"Punishment upon my body..."

"Intolerable to heaven and earth..."

This meant that starting from the Grand Elder in the first painting, a "grievously sinful" act had been committed. Subsequent Grand Elders, upon learning of this, also considered it an act of great treachery, yet all chose to persist and acquiesce for that grand aspiration.

Zhao Yi understood that this must be the deepest secret hidden within the Zhao family.

The Grand Elder said, "Yi'er, they are all doing this for your sake."

Zhao Yi said, "I want to know what this is."

"You should know."

The Grand Elder raised his right hand slightly, then let it fall.

It was a light tap, but violent tremors followed.

Zhao Yi initially thought the surrounding walls were rising, but soon realized that the ground he stood on was sinking.

It continuously descended, and the underground environment was filled with an amber-like viscous texture.

This substance looked somewhat familiar to Zhao Yi.

In the underground palace beneath Jade Dragon Snow Mountain, there were also large areas of these amber barriers.

He had truly not expected such a thing to exist beneath his own ancestral home, and that there was a hidden world beneath it.

The amber was transparent. Below, it was clearly a separate underground world.

From this angle, one could clearly see the layout of the buildings above.

The area where a group of coffins were gathered was the Zhao family's back garden, which Zhao Yi knew to be the sleeping place of the old undying ones.

There was also one coffin suspended alone in another area, its lid open, indicating it was empty.

Above that coffin was the Zhao family's treasure vault, meaning the one who should have been lying in the coffin was now in the treasure vault—the human face he had just seen guarding the lamp.

There were four coffins close by, which had not been pushed out.

These four coffins were likely reserved for the four elders; the Second Elder indeed did not have his own coffin.

Below all the coffins, a rope was tied, covered with talismans, all extending downwards to an area that resembled an altar.

That place looked very much like a dock, with these coffins like small boats, all tied so they wouldn't drift far.

Only now did Zhao Yi realize that he, who thought he was very familiar with the Zhao family, had actually always been an outsider.

"What is on that altar?"

The distance was too great to see clearly, and all forms of detection could not penetrate this amber viscosity.

"Yi'er, you can sit in my coffin and see for yourself."

Zhao Yi looked at the coffin that the Grand Elder had prepared in advance for himself. Without hesitation, he walked forward, stepped in, and stood.

"Buzz!"

A tremor swept over him. Zhao Yi felt his consciousness being violently pulled, and his life-and-death threshold was being ravaged along with it.

"Don't resist it."

The Grand Elder's voice suddenly appeared behind Zhao Yi.

Zhao Yi abruptly turned his head and saw the Grand Elder, who had left his chair at some unknown point and was now in the same coffin as him.

The age spots on the Grand Elder's face had receded. Although still elderly, he looked very fresh and gentle, like a posthumous photo taken in a photography studio.

His wrinkles, hollows, and illnesses were blurred away, retaining only the smoothest appearance.

Zhao Yi suddenly realized he was now located within this amber.

He looked up. The coffins he had seen earlier had all disappeared. The locations where the coffins had been were now occupied by people.

They hovered there, all looking down at him with kind faces.

Some were smiling at him, some were waving at him, some were cheering him on.

These were all his Zhao ancestors, the successive Zhao clan elders.

If they were "spiritual in heaven," seeing a genius emerge in their family's lineage, they would indeed show such expressions.

Was this a journey to the underworld? Or was this amber viscosity a way to create a special barrier?

Zhao Yi lowered his head and first looked at his hands, finding that he had returned to his original normal appearance. This meant that what he was experiencing now was not true reality.

Looking further down, Zhao Yi found himself getting closer and closer to the altar at the very bottom.

The Grand Elder behind him seemed to push him, and Zhao Yi, as if in deep water, slowly descended onto the altar.

The nine-tiered altar was not very towering; in fact, compared to such a grand display, it seemed somewhat too crude.

On the altar was a cylindrical platform, densely embedded with identity plaques.

This, he realized, must be the ropes he had seen earlier, connecting the coffins to the altar. This cylindrical platform was the pile on the dock.

Zhao Yi's gaze shifted upwards to the platform's surface.

A box lay on the platform. He couldn't see what was inside, but there was a faint light emanating from it.

Zhao Yi reached out to open the box. As he made this motion, his whole body began to tremble.

It wasn't his body trembling, but his soul, and it wasn't due to external interference, but a self-induced tremor from the depths of his soul.

The closer he got to the truth, the more intense the fear became.

As Zhao Yi's hand just touched the box, the box opened by itself, falling away on all sides, revealing its contents.

It was a skull.

A hole was drilled in the forehead, filled with lamp oil, with a wick extending out, burning a milky white flame.

In an instant, intense rage surged within Zhao Yi. Never once in his life had he been so furious as he was now.

"You... you actually used an ancestor's skull to light a human lamp?!"

In his anger, Zhao Yi's life-and-death threshold spun madly. His left eye turned white, his right eye turned black. He turned around and looked up at the "ancestors" above.

The Grand Elder, who was closest, said, "Yi'er, we are all doing this for you. Only the ancestor's blessings can allow us to continue living, to wait for a genius like you to appear in the family, to support the long-cherished wish of our Zhao clan to produce another Dragon King."

All the successive elders above them nodded in agreement with what the Grand Elder said.

Zhao Yi's voice was devoid of emotion; he said coldly:

"Then you can all die now!"

The Grand Elder fell silent.

All the successive elders above them also fell silent.

Zhao Yi's voice resonated again on the altar, posing a question:

"It's time to fulfill your vows! I am here! You... you can die now, and support me!"

The age spots reappeared on the Grand Elder's face. All the successive elders above him shed their benevolent expressions, their faces turning a dark, greenish-blue.

The entire atmosphere suddenly became oppressive.

The next moment, all the elders said in unison:

"We... want to live."