The vicious female supporting role is posted in the opposite direction by the cub

"Xiaoxing, how did you feel about today's coming-of-age ball?"

The ethereal blue light of the Milky Way flowed silently in the quiet room, reflecting a cold, silvery glow onto Jiang Yu's moon-white Chinese-style dress, like frost frozen for a thousand years.

She dismissed those around her, and the heavy, floating staircase door closed silently, shutting out the glitz and clamor of the outside world. Only a faint hum, mimicking the workings of the universe, and a chilling stillness filled the air.

Yan Yueqing stood straight in front of her mother, her fingertips twisting the intricate silver lotus pattern on the hem of her skirt. The ancient Chinese totem pressed against her fingertips, bringing a cold, painful sensation.

"Feelings?" A short, cold laugh escaped her lips, breaking the silence. "It's just an elaborately decorated merchandise fair. The second son of the Lowell family, a good-for-nothing from a branch of the royal family, and that arrogant heir of the Chen family... The old fogies of the Elders' Council are going to great lengths, afraid that I won't get a good price."

Jiang Yu wearily raised her hand, her fingertips pressing deeply against her throbbing brow. The sharpness in her daughter's words, like a poisoned needle, precisely pierced the ostentatious facade of this coming-of-age ceremony.

“Little Star,” her voice was hoarse with the tangible marks of time, her gaze fixed on the illusory yet vast sea of ​​stars outside the window, “since the entire Jiang family fled overseas, many things… have changed beyond recognition. Marriage alliances are but a speck of dust in the grand scheme of things.”

She raised her hand, her gaze piercing through the holographic projection of the starry barrier, sinking into the darkest depths of history.

"The Jiang family has been able to endure for a thousand years, surviving countless dynastic changes, not because of flattery or groveling. Dynastic changes are an inescapable cycle of fate for this land... but the one hundreds of years ago was different."

With a gentle swipe of the fingertip, the holographic projection lit up.

The cold light and shadow created a scene so tragic it was suffocating, which silently exploded under the starlight as Jiang Yu painfully administered the antidote—

The roar of the collapsing passes was like apocalyptic thunder, and the sound of iron hooves shattering mountains and rivers was deafening. It was not war, but a destructive torrent sweeping everything away. The iron cavalry from beyond the pass, like a bloodthirsty locust swarm, swept into the fertile Central Plains with the ferocity of a biting cold wind.

The executioner's blade struck indiscriminately, showing no regard for age or gender. Cities were reduced to scorched earth, and villages became ghost towns. Piles of corpses blocked the rushing rivers, turning the once clear waters into a thick, sticky, and foul-smelling crimson.

That was not a river, but a River of the Dead formed from the desperate tears and blood of countless wronged souls. As far as the eye could see, there was only an endless hell of death—nearly a hundred million vibrant lives were crushed into mud amidst desperate wails.

The air was thick with the pungent smell of blood and burning, the sky was obscured by thick smoke from the burning, the sun and moon were obscured, and only the blood-red color reflected the hell on earth.

At the heart of this apocalyptic scene, the surviving warriors and elders of the Jiang family, ragged and blood-stained, yet with a resolute flame burning in their eyes, like moths drawn to a flame, formed a defensive line built of flesh and blood. They did not act out of empty loyalty, but for the last faint glimmer of their bloodline behind them—dozens of infants, still innocent and bewildered, silenced by fear, and several toddlers gripped by overwhelming terror, too terrified to even cry.

In the brutal battle, limbs flew through the air, and lives were extinguished at a heartbreaking pace. An old patriarch, his hair and beard white, his chest pierced by a spear, still clung tightly to the leg of an enemy horse, roaring desperately towards the mountains: "Go—!"

The heart-wrenching word "go" exhausted her last breath and became the swan song of the Jiang family's thousand-year-old indomitable spirit.

As the last group of women carrying children stumbled and disappeared at the entrance to the vast mountains, the heavy, ancient mountain gate, engraved with runes, crashed down amidst deafening shouts and dying roars, separating the two worlds.

Outside the mountain gate, the remaining half of the Jiang family members, with their broken bodies, boiling blood, and indomitable spirits, paved a bloody path to survival for the young lives behind them.

Their remains became the silent foundation of the mountains.

Yan Yueqing felt as if her lungs were being gripped tightly by a cold, giant hand, and every breath was accompanied by a tearing pain.

The seemingly casual statement in the document, "Dynastic changes only last a hundred years, but they have been able to persist for over a thousand years," actually conceals a blood-red hell that is so profound, so tragic, and enough to crush any soul!
What our ancestors traversed was not the long river of time, but a thorny path paved with the blood and flesh of their people.

"For the next few centuries, it wasn't that the Jiang family didn't want to return to the public eye." Jiang Yu slowly turned around, his deep eyes filled with a pain that had been frozen across centuries. "Every attempt, every tiny contact, revealed a living hell! Starving corpses littered the ground, and the tragedy of cannibalism spread like a plague—it was all too commonplace... What was even more appalling was..."

Her voice trembled with extreme grief and indignation, “Those butchers who wield power treat us, the descendants of Yan and Huang, like pigs and dogs! They torture and kill for pleasure, skinning and stuffing our flesh, just to satisfy their twisted lust! At the beginning of the founding of China, when that red flag was raised, the Jiang family thought... that they had finally seen the dawn of a new era.” A thick, unyielding bitterness spread across her lips, like the most bitter gentian juice.

"But the new dynasty, newly established, is like a small boat adrift in a raging storm, its foundation precarious. The demons and monsters of the old era—those executioners with the blood of our compatriots on their hands, those parasites who once sat high above, sucking the people's wealth, those monstrous rats who frantically plundered the five thousand years of accumulation of this land—"

Sensing the impending doom, they fled in a frenzy, carrying immense wealth, boundless hatred, and resentment, like the most vile parasites finding a new breeding ground overseas. What they took away was far more than just gold and jewels. They emptied the palace's secret treasuries of rare books, plundered the heirlooms of ancient families, and even dug up the vital artifacts symbolizing the nation's destiny!
Five thousand years of civilization's essence was brutally divided, plundered, and seized by these robbers! In the New World, they used their looted wealth to build magnificent palaces, adorned their gates with stolen treasures, and wove a new network of power with stolen ancient wisdom and technology, even shamelessly proclaiming themselves 'legitimate'.

Jiang Yu's voice suddenly became incredibly heavy, each word striking Yan Yueqing's heart: "The Jiang family sees it all too clearly—this nascent nation, beset by internal and external troubles, is teetering on the brink of collapse, like a wounded giant, struggling even to stand firm. Those old forces that have fled overseas, possessing the foundation of five thousand years of civilization, are like venomous snakes lurking in the shadows, gathering strength, ready to strike at any moment!" (End of Chapter)