“Patriarch, that’s Princess Xingyue we’re talking about!”
“The Thirteenth Daughter of the late Emperor, and the current Emperor’s own blood sister.”
Wen Lingyun’s face was filled with terror, his voice trembling and choked with sobs.
He couldn’t believe that his own patriarch was unaware of the immense weight behind these identities!
“If His Majesty learns of this, no matter how capable our Wen family might be, we won’t escape total annihilation—we’ll be wiped out without a trace!”
Wen Lingyun collapsed onto the cold ground, his face as pale as paper, drained of all color.
Trembling, he raised one hand, his index finger pointing straight at Wen Mochen, the fingertip quivering uncontrollably.
Then, lifting his head, Wen Lingyun fixed his gaze on his patriarch, Wen Fengyuan, and spoke in a hoarse voice.
“Patriarch!”
“This fiend’s actions are driving our great Wen family straight to ruin—he’s leading the entire clan to destruction!”
Every move Wen Lingyun made at this moment was nothing more than the desperate struggle of a cornered beast.
But it was all over now. Everything had been settled.
No matter what the Wen family did, it would be futile—it was far too late.
The Wen family, a clan that had once been prominent and glorious throughout the Great Xia Empire, had now embarked on a path of no return.
That female Emperor in the Heavenly Capital was inscrutable, swift and resolute in her actions, and decisive by nature.
She had always dealt severely with anyone who dared offend the imperial dignity—how could she possibly forgive the crimes the Wen family had committed?
Even if the Wen family patriarch had once been bestowed the title of Duke of Rong by the late Emperor, in the face of such heinous transgressions, that former glory was nothing more than a passing cloud, utterly useless.
After all, Princess Xingyue was the late Emperor’s most beloved Thirteenth Daughter, and the current Emperor’s own blood sister.
Thus, her status was supremely noble, leaving no room for the slightest desecration.
Within the Great Xia Empire, anyone who dared harm Princess Xingyue—no matter who they were—would ultimately meet their death!
Wen Fengyuan slowly lowered his head, his cloudy yet sharp eyes shifting downward.
Out of the corner of his eye, he cast a cold, indifferent glance at Wen Lingyun, still slumped on the ground, and Wen Mochen, standing off to the side.
The next moment, a frost-like chill settled over Wen Fengyuan’s face, devoid of any emotion. His thin lips parted slightly.
“Enough.”
These two words, though spoken in a very low voice, carried an undeniable finality.
After a pause, Wen Fengyuan continued, “Both of you, leave now.”
With that, he lifted his head slightly and gazed into the distance, as if lost in thought.
A moment later, he spoke again.
“From today onward, aside from those I personally assign to care for Princess Xingyue, no one else is to set foot within even half a step of this place.”
The moment Wen Fengyuan’s words faded, an invisible yet terrifying force surged and howled around him.
Then, unhurriedly, he raised his right hand and casually flicked his sleeve—a motion that seemed effortless, yet carried the force of a tidal wave.
In an instant, a dense and overwhelming surge of power rushed forth.
This irresistible force wrapped tightly around Wen Lingyun and Wen Mochen, suspending them in midair before gently carrying them beyond the door.
No sooner had Wen Mochen’s feet touched the ground than his inner energy exploded chaotically, his aura spiraling into disorder.
Then, his entire form blurred into a faint afterimage as he shot off into the distance, vanishing without a trace in the blink of an eye.
At this moment, Wen Mochen was truly terrified.
In his heart, his father, Wen Lingyun, had become a madman devoid of reason—a lunatic who had personally murdered his own mother!
That woman had been Wen Lingyun’s legally wedded wife, the one who had shared his life for so many years—and the person closest to Wen Mochen in this world.
Wen Lingyun paid no heed to his son’s desperate flight.
He seemed utterly drained of all strength, still slumped on the ground, his eyes fixed straight ahead, staring into the room.
More precisely, Wen Lingyun’s gaze pierced through the layers of obstruction, locking onto the low-hanging curtains around the bed.
There, lying still, was a woman.
That woman was once the incomparably noble Princess Xingyue—now reduced to this state by his own son’s doing.
She no longer possessed her former elegance and splendor; in this dim, oppressive room, she was like a flower that had withered far too soon.
As Wen Lingyun stared at Princess Xingyue, a tangle of complex emotions flickered in his eyes—fear, regret, and deep despair.
It was as if, through her, he was confronting the impending doom that was about to befall the entire Wen family.
But he didn’t gaze for long. Four guards clad in pure white brocade robes suddenly appeared beside him.
The four moved lightly and swiftly, carefully approaching Wen Lingyun before steadily helping him to his feet.
Wen Lingyun was now barely conscious, allowing the guards to support his limp, powerless body, his eyes hollow and vacant.
The four guards, not daring to slack off in the slightest, helped Wen Lingyun slowly make their way out the door.
Before long, the group disappeared at the end of the dim corridor.
Shortly after they left, the previously wide-open door slammed shut with a loud bang.
The resounding crash echoed through the silent space, causing the surrounding air to tremble.
The once-bright room was suddenly engulfed in gloom, lit only by a few flickering candles that barely illuminated the small space.
Wen Fengyuan turned slowly, his eyes fixed intently on Princess Xingyue lying on the bed.
As he beheld the scene before him, memories of the past flashed through his mind like a revolving lantern, stirring a whirlwind of emotions within him.
After a long moment, he lifted his head slightly, and a heavy sigh escaped from his chest: “Ah…”
The sigh was steeped in helplessness and the weariness of age.
Then, Wen Fengyuan murmured to himself, “In the end, this old man still chose this path.”
Wen Fengyuan’s decision to take such a mad gamble was by no means impulsive—it was the result of years of agonizing deliberation.
Four years ago, while in seclusion, he had attempted to break through to the consummate stage of the Divine Mansion realm, striving to shatter the shackles of the great completion stage.
His goal was to become a martial artist at the peak of the Divine Mansion realm.
However, Wen Fengyuan ultimately failed, his efforts coming to naught.
In the wake of his failed breakthrough, he suffered a violent backlash from the vast and boundless forces of heaven and earth.
That terrifying celestial force crashed down upon him like a tidal wave, rampaging through his Divine Mansion.
It shook his Divine Mansion to the point of near collapse, and his divine sense and primordial spirit within were also severely damaged.
This trauma caused his once-mighty strength to plummet drastically.
At best, Wen Fengyuan could now only muster the power of a small-stage Divine Mansion cultivator.
Thus, on the surface, Wen Fengyuan appeared to be no different than before.
But only he himself knew the truth—he was now like a castle in the air with a crumbling foundation, liable to collapse at any moment.
What frightened him most was the ever-intensifying sense of decay in his physical body.
He could acutely feel that both his body and his Divine Mansion were rapidly deteriorating.
Wen Fengyuan, a martial artist at the great completion stage of the Divine Mansion—a true Primordial Spirit cultivator—would, within less than ten years, see his Divine Mansion shatter, his body perish, and his soul dissolve into nothing but a speck of dust in this world, leaving no trace behind.
Between life and death lies great terror!
Wen Fengyuan was filled with unwillingness—how could he accept fading away so silently and meaninglessly?
Deep in his heart burned only one fierce desire: to live!
Yet the damage he had sustained came from the erosion of heaven and earth’s power—it was no ordinary injury.
Common healing elixirs, conventional cultivation methods, or even rare heavenly treasures were utterly incapable of restoring him to his former state.
To heal, Wen Fengyuan could only rely on the legendary Ten-Pattern Sun Artifact.
This Ten-Pattern Sun Artifact contained the most mysterious and powerful laws of heaven and earth—something that countless martial artists in the Great Xia Empire dreamed of possessing.
With the artifact’s aid, its inherent laws could easily help Wen Fengyuan recover.
Moreover, for him, this law power was also the key to once again attempting to break through to the consummate stage of the Divine Mansion.
If he succeeded, not only would he heal his injuries, but he would also elevate his strength to new heights, reaching the pinnacle of the Divine Mansion realm.
“Cough, cough, cough!”
A muffled, dry cough erupted from Wen Fengyuan’s chest, breaking the silence of the room.
He bent slightly, covering his mouth with one hand. As the coughing subsided, he moved that hand unhurriedly into his robe.
With great care, Wen Fengyuan pulled out a small, azure orb.
Under the dim candlelight, the round bead emitted a faint, ancient, and mysterious glow.
At first glance, it appeared to have been cast from bronze.
“Azure Spirit Orb!”
Wen Fengyuan murmured softly, his voice tinged with complex emotion.
Though this small bead seemed ordinary in appearance, it was actually an extremely rare Eight-Pattern Moon Artifact.
The Azure Spirit Orb was a token of sincerity from the Jiang family—one of the three upper clans.
The Jiang family, along with the Tang family—another of the three upper clans—had finally lost patience and were preparing to move against that one.
Hmph!
A cold sneer formed in Wen Fengyuan’s heart. Among the five lower families, two had already clearly stated their allegiance to them.
And those three transcendent powers, while appearing neutral on the surface, were secretly colluding with several of the eight great families, all making preparations for the emergence of the Spiritual Ruins half a year from now.
All forces were stirring in the shadows—a storm, centered around the Spiritual Ruins and that Female Emperor in the imperial palace, was quietly being plotted.
More than half of the eight great families, combined with the three transcendent powers—such a formidable coalition was what had finally steadied Wen Fengyuan’s resolve and given him the audacity to commit such an outrageous act.
Striking at Princess Xingyue was the Wen family’s pledge of loyalty to these forces.
This was also why Wen Fengyuan had tacitly allowed Wen Mochen’s actions.
After all, now that they had harmed Princess Xingyue, the Wen family had lost all retreat—they could only press forward into the darkness on this road of no return.
Though the Tang and Jiang families had promised to gift him the Ten-Pattern Sun Artifact half a year later, Wen Fengyuan had no real assurance that they would keep their word.
But he simply had no other choice. He didn’t want to die, and so he could only pin his hopes on these eight families.
As for the Great Xia imperial clan—he dared not even think of it.
He was nothing more than an old man with little time left, clinging to life.
Even as the Duke of Rong, he had no right to lay his hands on the imperial clan’s Ten-Pattern Sun Artifact.
Wen Fengyuan reined in his thoughts and slowly turned, his gaze falling on the tightly shut door beyond.
His eyes seemed capable of piercing through all obstacles, seeing what lay outside.
“That little girl turned into a Catastrophe-class anomaly and ruined this old man’s plans!”
Wen Fengyuan’s face twisted in frustration as he muttered a few curses under his breath.
Then, with a long sigh, he said, “Alas! If not for my weakened strength, how could a mere Catastrophe-class anomaly run amok before me?”
The “little girl” he spoke of was Princess Xingyue’s childhood companion and personal maid.
No one had ever expected that she would rise from the dead, transforming into a dreaded Catastrophe-class anomaly.
At the same time, she possessed strength rivaling that of a small-stage Divine Mansion cultivator.
What was even more terrifying was the netherworldly force swirling around her—an eerie, malevolent energy that came dangerously close to the power of a Primordial Spirit.
Wen Fengyuan, a heavily wounded Primordial Spirit cultivator, was naturally powerless to eliminate this Catastrophe-class anomaly.
He could only manage to lead the Wen family in retreat from Haoran Prefecture’s main city, taking shelter in Mingxin Prefecture’s capital.
“For now, I can only hope those Mysterious Bird Guards don’t see through that thing’s true identity.”
Wen Fengyuan frowned, his heart heavy with anxiety, unsure of who he would soon face.
He had chosen not to kill Princess Xingyue precisely out of fear that the imperial clan might detect something unusual about her.
“I wonder—will it be that supremely mysterious Commander of the Mysterious Bird Guards making a move, or will Zhang Daofeng of the Dao Void Temple come in person?”
At the thought of these two, Wen Fengyuan’s brow furrowed even deeper. In his mind, they were like two insurmountable mountains—the ones he feared most.
Ten miles outside Haoran Prefecture’s main city, nearly a hundred tents were densely packed together.
All around these tents, countless figures could be seen pacing to and fro.
If one looked closely, they’d see the crowd numbered over a thousand in total.
All these individuals wore Mysterious Bird uniforms—and judging by their rank insignia, every level of Mysterious Bird Guard was present, with the sole exception of the unique Celestial-grade attire.
Among the many tents, in the one positioned at the very center, Mu Yun sat quietly with five Mysterious Bird Guards clad in Earth-grade uniforms.
The six of them maintained calm and steady demeanors, yet a hint of focused anticipation showed in their eyes, as if they had been holding their breath, waiting for the arrival of a certain important figure.
Just then, the air above the encampment suddenly boomed with a clear and powerful voice.
The voice seemed to carry a mysterious force, reaching directly into the ears of every Mysterious Bird Guard.
“Commander Mu, come with me to Haoran Prefecture’s main city! The rest of you, stay put and wait here!”
Inside the tent, Mu Yun’s face lit up with surprise and delight the moment he heard that familiar voice.
In the next instant, his form streaked like a brilliant rainbow, vanishing from where he stood in the blink of an eye.
Mu Yun had instantly recognized it—that was Lu Xuan’s voice.
