Transforming into a stunningly beautiful fox spirit, leaving a scar on the heart of a prodigy.

The airship came to a stop.

Thirty-six white jade steps lead from the city gate to the bottom of the boat, each step engraved with the Chen family crest.

Hundreds of people stood on both sides of the steps. On the left were the direct descendants, dressed in brocade robes and gold belts, their chins slightly raised. On the right were the collateral descendants, dressed in gray robes and cloth shoes, standing half a step lower.

There was a three-step-wide passageway in between.

Chen Daolin disembarked first. His purple-gold robe fluttered in the wind as he stood at the highest point, surveying the crowd and nodding.

The crowd below chanted in unison, "Welcome the Third Ancestor!"

Chen Xuan stood motionless at the top of the gangway. His gaze passed over the steps and the crowd, landing on the character "Chen" in the center of the city gate.

To conserve energy, Su Chang'an retreated into his sea of ​​consciousness, where he also observed.

Before she could speak, the crowd stirred.

The front row of loyalists made way. A middle-aged man strode out—wearing a dark blue brocade robe, his features bearing a slight resemblance to Chen Xuan. He had graying temples, fine lines around his eyes, and a smile on his face.

He opened his arms, his eyes reddened, and his voice filled the entire square:

"Xuan'er—! Father is here! Father has been waiting for you to come back for twenty years!"

Su Chang'an's pupils contracted slightly.

Chen Xuan didn't say anything, and walked down the steps one by one.

Chen Boyong almost ran to meet him. He reached out to grasp Chen Xuan's wrist, tears welling up in his eyes, his voice trembling with carefully controlled sobs.

"Back then, a tragedy struck our clan, and a treacherous person deceived me! My Xuan'er was stolen—" He turned and swept his gaze over his clansmen, his voice rising three octaves, "I searched for twenty years, twenty years!"

His knees buckled, and he assumed a kneeling posture.

Several collateral relatives, unaware of the situation, exchanged bewildered glances. One muttered quietly, "So Uncle Boyong has suffered so much all these years..."

On the direct line, the elders exchanged glances but remained silent.

Chen Daolin stood with his hands behind his back on a high place, his expression unseen.

Chen Mu stood in the collateral branch's line. His fingernails dug into his palms, his knuckles turning white. He had seen the scar on Chen Xuan's chest before—diagonally from his collarbone to his ribs, as if someone had forcibly pried it open.

But Chen Boyong was of a much higher generation. He gritted his teeth and didn't dare to utter a sound.

Chen Boyong's fingers touched Chen Xuan's wrist.

Chen Xuan didn't dodge. He didn't shake him off.

He simply lowered his head and glanced at that hand.

This is the hand that took its own bone and then threw itself into the secret realm of death.

Su Chang'an was furious.

Chen Xuan's fingers tightened inch by inch.

The sound of bones grinding together was so faint that few people present could hear it.

But Chen Boyong's smile froze. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his Adam's apple bobbed.

It can't be torn apart.

He dared not shout in front of so many people. Forcing himself not to change his expression, he abruptly changed the subject, his voice growing louder:

"Xuan'er! Father knows he owes you too much—I've felt guilty every day and restless every night these past years!" His hands trembled, but his mouth didn't stop. "The Tianyuan Cave Mansion is yours from today onwards! The three ancestral magic treasures and all cultivation resources are all transferred to your name! Even if I give everything—it can't make up for what I owe you!"

A low gasp rippled through the square. Tianyuan Cave was one of the Chen family's most prestigious cultivation sites, and Chen Boyong's move certainly seemed to have emptied the family's coffers.

The expressions on the faces of several collateral relatives wavered.

Chen Daolin nodded from his vantage point; everything was going as expected.

Playing the family card is all about lowering people's guard.

If Chen Xuan stays in the ancestral land for three more days, the great formation will be able to lock onto his aura.

Su Chang'an watched all of this coldly.

He remained silent for a few moments. Then he spoke, his voice calm and even, without trembling or anger.

"Chen Xuan, your father has a saying for you. Say it out loud, word for word."

Chen Xuan loosened his grip on Chen Boyong's wrist.

The square fell silent. Hundreds of eyes were fixed on him.

Chen Xuan spoke. His voice wasn't loud, but the white jade steps amplified it in all directions, making every word clear.

"What did you just call me?"

Chen Boyong's expression relaxed for a moment, then his smile returned: "Xuan'er! Father wants to see you—"

When I was three years old.

Chen Xuan interrupted him.

He speaks very slowly. There's a pause between each word as it's spoken.

"Was that the name you called when you put your hand inside my chest?"

A deathly silence fell over the square; not a single whisper could be heard. Even the wind seemed to have been choked.

Chen Boyong's smile froze. The flesh at the corner of his right eye twitched.

He gambled that a three-year-old child couldn't remember who did it. He was wrong.

The expressions of the direct descendants in the front row changed. Two of them took half a step back.

In the collateral group, Chen Mu suddenly looked up. His fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles cracked.

Chen Boyong's face shifted between white and red. He took a step back, putting his hands behind his back—as if trying to hide the scar.

"Xuan'er—it was the family's decision back then, and your father had no choice—" His voice still tried to remain calm, "for the sake of the Chen family's imperial lineage, for the greater good—"

Su Chang'an's voice rang out in Chen Xuan's mind. He spoke quickly and sharply.

Tell him—

Chen Xuan opened his mouth.

His voice was cold and distinctive. But the rhythm of his phrasing and the way he pronounced each word revealed something that didn't belong to him.

"Unable to control your own destiny? When your son was growing up eating raw meat in the sealed cave, where were you feeling any sense of obligation?"

"When your son had a high fever for three days and was burning up like a lump of coal, who warmed him with their body for three days and three nights?"

"You don't even know how many teeth he lost, how many inches he grew, or how many scars he got over those thirteen years."

Chen Xuan paused for a moment.

"How dare you stand here and call him 'Xuan'er'?"

A collective gasp filled the square.

This is not something Chen Xuan would say.

This is something only someone who has raised a child can say.

Chen Boyong was cornered. He had no way out, and he had lost all face.

He made the stupidest choice—he straightened his back and raised his voice.

"Enough! No matter what happened back then, I am your biological father! No one can change that bloodline! The blood of the Chen family flows in your veins—"

Chen Xuan stopped looking at him.

He turned around.

He reached into his robes and pulled out a piece of fabric. The movement was very gentle, as if he were touching something fragile.

The cloak was unfolded before everyone.

The corner was scorched, and there were dark brown marks on the front that couldn't be washed off. The fabric was so thin that it was translucent, yet the creases were neatly folded—it was unclear how many times it had been folded.

Chen Xuan draped his cloak over his shoulders.

Over the gold-threaded brocade robe, there was a tattered cloth that even a beggar would find shabby.

No one laughed.

He bent down to button his collar. The buttons were crooked, sewn with thick thread, and the stitches were terribly ugly.

His finger paused on that button for a moment.

Then, facing the city gate, he stepped onto the steps.

"My surname is Chen. But I wasn't raised by the Chen family."

There was no turning back.

"The person who raised me is still waiting for me to return from the seal in the Northern Region."

The soles of my boots trod across the white jade steps. On the twelfth stone slab were engraved four characters: "The Emperor's Way Has No Favoritism."

"I'm not returning to Central Continent to reunite with relatives."

"It's about settling accounts."

He walked through the city gate.

No one from the collateral group was blocking the way. People made way on their own.

Chen Mu straightened up, clasped his hands in a fist salute to the tattered figure's back, and bowed deeply.

Chen Boyong stood still.

The area was empty. There wasn't a soul within three steps. The tribesmen scattered to both sides, as if hiding from something filthy.

A northerly wind swept across the square, stirring up the dust that had accumulated on the steps.

In less than half an hour, the news spread throughout the entire ancestral city.

"The emperor's son returned to his ancestral home and angrily rebuked his biological father."

"Chen Boyong abandoned his son's bones twenty years ago."

The elder of the second branch was drinking tea in the courtyard. He put down his cup and sneered, "A bastard raised by a demon will never amount to anything."

The fifth branch did not express their opinion, but before dark, someone secretly delivered a visiting card to Chen Mu.

The old matriarch of the seventh branch of the family stood at the gate of the mansion, leaning on her cane, and cursed in the direction of Chen Boyong's house for the entire duration of an incense stick burning, without pausing in between.

Another version of the story spread among the collateral disciples. It spread even faster than among the direct descendants.

—Who exactly is "she" who cuts flesh to make soup in the sealed cave and raises a three-year-old child to sixteen?

Chen Boyong was escorted back to his residence by two of his trusted guards.

The door closed.

It has never been opened again.