917: It is_2 917: It is_2 Upon hearing this, Ran Qingmo remained rooted on the spot, hesitating in her gaze.
A single glance was exchanged, and everything was clear.
Big Ice Lump’s master was a Saint already, why would one seek the inheritance of a deceased Saint when guided by a living one?
With a soft chuckle, Xu Yuan whispered:
“This ancestral hall inheritance is fundantally a two-way selection process, if you’re unwilling, then let it be.”
Ran Qingmo nodded her head and deeply bowed to the sixth spirit tablet at the bottom, her red lips slightly parted as if saying sothing to it.
After a mont of silence, Xu Yuan received an invitation, not just one.
Around seven or eight voices rang out in his ears at the sa ti.
Although his blessings were ager, he was after all of the Feng Family’s direct bloodline and possessed an Innate Taoist Body.
But he rejected each one of them.
And with his rejections,
It seed as if a faint regretful sigh arose within the spirit hall.
It appeared these ancestors didn’t have much ti left.
However, they did not force the issue; the gentle luminosity from the surface of the spirit tablets flickered like eyes montarily, before returning to stillness.
This was the norm within the Feng Family’s ancestral hall.
Those of the Feng clan who could enter this place generally didn’t need the inheritance from a Saint, and those who needed it couldn’t co in at all.
The soul intent left behind by most of the Feng ancestors has quietly dissipated throughout the river of ti.
Thinking of the girl outside with the Yin-Yang Mysterious Pattern Body, Xu Yuan reflected for a mont, then still decided to speak out:
“Perhaps, revered ancestors, you could wait a bit longer.
Maybe not long from now, another clan mber will co to this place.
Although she is not of my direct bloodline, I hope the ancestors will consider her when the ti cos.”
His words fell into silence, no spirit tablet responded, even sending ssages requires the consumption of soul intent, and the vast spirit hall seed to tacitly agree with only a cold wind blowing through.
Having done this, Xu Yuan slowly walked towards the thick and heavy spirit tablet stand, and as he walked, he casually condensed a blood-red dagger.
Xifeng Mountain, the secret ancestral hall of the Feng Family; you can open the secret passage by staining the thirteenth spirit tablet at the end with blood.
This was the clue given to him by that old man.
When he ca before that spirit tablet, Xu Yuan raised his left hand above it, while his right hand held the blade and lightly drew a bloody wound across the palm.
The sharp pain pierced right into his heart, and bright red fresh blood fountained out, flowing down the palm lines like a stream.
“Drip, drop…”
The mont the fresh blood fell onto the spirit tablet, it disappeared within it without a trace.
About after ten breaths, the blood-engorged spirit tablet suddenly emitted a burst of white light, seemingly triggering so chanism.
A series of white formation patterns swiftly extended from the tablet, spreading out like a spider’s web, covering every corner of the spirit hall.
A brief pause,
Accompanied by a deep “rumble,” a secret door slowly opened on the left side at the entrance of the spirit hall, with a faint light seeping out…
…
…
…
As consciousness returned, the cold touch of the ground on his cheek was imdiate, and it was this chill that made Feng Xianru imdiately realize what had happened, struggling to stand up with a resentful clench of his lips and teeth.
But as soon as he got up, he staggered.
Noticing the abnormality in his body, Feng Xianru quickly introspected his ridians, and his brows unconsciously furrowed.
He was in pain all over but not injured.
Recognizing this, Feng Xianru’s fists clenched involuntarily, his gaze fixed on the depths of the corridor.
A thick loathing spread gradually within his heart.
However, this disgust was not aid at Xu Changge but at himself.
He was a once in a generation talent.
This was what people said of him since he was young.
As a child, Feng Xianru didn’t understand what this ant.
But as he grew older, and watched his peers’ cultivation stalled by those inexistent things, he gradually grasped the aning of the word.
Yet this innate talent didn’t make him arrogant but brought a heavy sense of pressure instead.
The envy of his peers, the expectations of his elders, and the constant praise that lifted him to the clouds filled him with trepidation.
He feared disappointing those around him, falling from the high clouds, and encountering the sa bottlenecks others spoke of.
He didn’t know how to react to complints, nor did he know the proper response to provocations befitting a true genius.
He once tried to ask his sister, who was also a genius.
But his sister simply didn’t understand the things he spoke of.
Therefore, Xu Yuan dared not reveal a shred of his true feelings; he could only strive to imitate his sister and beco the prodigy that others spoke of.
He continued to imitate the only template of talent available to him.
His sister was a gentle person, so he too beca gentle.
He firmly rembered the age at which his sister broke through each realm and then pushed himself to achieve the sa.
In this way, he thought he could continue to play the role of the prodigy in others’ eyes.
These years persisted until he turned ten.
It was an ordinary day, as usual, when he rose at the hour of Mao to wash up in a quarter of an hour, then headed to Xifeng Mountain to practice his breathing and cultivation technique until the evening hour of You.
However, what was out of the ordinary,
was that, on this day, he encountered a middle-aged man on Xifeng Mountain.
Upon ceasing his cultivation technique and opening his eyes, Feng Xianru saw him.
He stood quietly to the side, observing him with an impassive gaze, a slight sigh in the narrow eyes.
This look made Feng Xianru sowhat uncomfortable, but as a prodigy, he should not take it to heart, so he smiled and greeted the man.
Feng Xianru thought he had handled it well, but upon hearing his greeting the man kicked him off the peak.
He had no power to resist.
However, Feng Xianru was convinced the man would save him, for he had seen the Feng Family crest on the white clothes of the man.
He was a prodigy of the Feng Family, and the man was from his family, so surely he would be saved.
And then,
his leg broke.
The cliff was high, his cultivation wasn’t strong enough to negate such a powerful impact, and he was smashed into a backward ‘7.’
Looking at his horrifyingly twisted body, and feeling the piercing pain emanating from it, fear crept into Feng Xianru’s heart for the first ti.
But prodigies are not ant to cry out.
So he bore it.
Forcing himself to calm down and think about the reason, Feng Xianru simply could not understand why the man would do such a thing.
But soon, Feng Xianru realized he had no ti to ponder such matters.
As night approached, the mist that enveloped Xifeng Mountain began to quietly erge among the trees while the beastly howls could be faintly heard from the woods.
Death.
The word suddenly flashed through his mind.
This place was too remote, so far off that no one else ca, and the scent of blood from his broken leg would undoubtedly attract Demonic Beasts.
Feng Xianru’s body started to shake uncontrollably, yet he still tried to remain calm.
As a prodigy, surely his family would send people to look for him if he did not return for a long ti.
This beca his lifeline.
But as darkness fell completely, and he heard the rustling sounds in the dark forest, Feng Xianru could no longer control his emotions.
He tried calling out a few tis but received no response.
Because his leg was completely broken, in his panic, he grabbed the ground with his delicate hands and scrambled toward what he thought was the safety of the cliff face, as tears uncontrollably fell.
He didn’t know what he had done to provoke the man.
Just a normal greeting, and the man wanted to kill him.
Why…
He didn’t understand.
Among the rustling sounds of the mountain forest, he finally reached the bottom of the cliff.
Curled up, he survived the first night.
Then ca the second day, the third day.
No one ca to save him.
Due to the strong physical condition of a cultivator, although his leg was still broken, the bleeding had stopped.
As life slowly ebbed away, anger and bitterness of injustice gradually rose in his heart.
He hated that man.
If he could survive and return, he would kill that man, no matter what, disregarding that crap title of a prodigy!
And in this despair, Feng Xianru suddenly punched the cliff with all his might.
Blood soaked in,
The formation activated.
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