Lineage

Jian Yiru went utterly lifeless in his arms, and he could do nothing. Something deep in his memory, from a forgotten time, stirred. That same helplessness flooded his entire being. With a raw roar, he suddenly felt heat surge in his chest, as if his whole body were set ablaze. He wanted to fight it at first, but a primal instinct told him it might save his senior sister, so he willingly fanned the flames.

Jian Yiru's body miraculously floated upward. The dragon scales strewn across the ground and the flesh devoured by the ghosts rose one by one, returning to her and restoring her form. Outside, the sun set in the east and the moon rose from the west. In their shock, the ghosts rematerialized. As her body reconstituted, Jian Yiru slowly regained consciousness. Stunned at first, she then noticed Yan's bloodless lips and nodded in relief.

"Time to repay the debt I owe you from earlier!" Jian Yiru snatched up the fallen spear, clapped Yan's shoulder, and stepped in front of him. Cold light gleamed off the silver spear. She settled into her stance, gathered power, and thrust straight into the heart of the ghost tide.

Though Yan had spent immense blood and energy, he could still wield his blade. A cultivation art he'd learned at some forgotten time began operating on its own, allowing his slashes to strike living souls directly. He moved constantly on the periphery, cutting down fleeing wraiths, working in tandem with Jian Yiru to pin the ghosts down.

Realizing brute numbers wouldn't secure victory and escape was impossible, a few sentient ghosts, unwilling to die ignobly, acted as one while the pair was occupied. Using themselves as a nucleus, they devoured every living soul, coalescing into a creature-like, half-physical entity.

Jian Yiru tried to stop it but was too late; her spear, thrown with all her might, was intercepted mid-flight.

"Junior brother, this foe is trouble. Be careful. If you can't win, run right away and find our senior brothers!" Jian Yiru flashed protectively in front of Yan, using her own dragon scales as a foundation to form a barrier against the entity's oppressive aura.

"Run? None of you are running anywhere!" it shrieked hysterically, then lunged forward in a grotesque posture. With each attack, the corresponding body part would swell before delivering a crushing blow.

They could read the opponent's attack pattern clearly, yet couldn't predict its trajectory at all. Its strikes were devastatingly powerful and bafflingly elusive. Jian's dragon scales were already cracking, but she still managed to shield Yan.

"Senior sister, how many more hits can you take?" Yan wasn't just standing by. As he moved with Jian Yiru, his eyes remained locked on the ghost's movements. He'd spotted a clue but didn't dare confirm it yet. He sent a voice transmission using an encrypted method.

"It's not pleasant, but I can last long enough for you to get away!" Jian wiped blood from her mouth, weathering another colossal blow.

"Left!" The ghost began gathering power for another strike, but before it could launch, Su Shi warned her. The ghost's expression flickered, but its momentum didn't wane.

She barely dodged and managed a thrust during the turn, but her spear was caught.

Just as the ghost relaxed with a contemptuous sneer, its face abruptly changed. A gap had somehow opened on its flank. Its right arm instantly crumbled, and as its body lost balance, it released the spear.

In a flash, Jian Yiru seized the opening and stabbed straight for its core. Using the recoil, she abandoned the spear and flashed back, her hands rapidly forming seals. Horns emerged on her forehead as her cultivation energy converged in her palms.

Yan understood immediately. Gritting his teeth, he swung his long blade in a sweeping slash at its waist, slowing the ghost's recovery. He himself darted around it, cutting off every escape route.

Yan couldn't avoid a punch. He coughed blood as he was hurled backward, slamming into the rock wall—which, by chance, left the ghostly entity in a brief recovery phase after its attack.

Her heart clenching, Jian Yiru brought her hands together, then aimed her sword-finger at the ghost. The amassed cultivation energy erupted in a torrent, churning sand, stone, and dust. Spent, she collapsed.

After the violent explosion, the ghost's form shattered, barely clinging to life. It crawled painfully toward its core, only to be pinned to the ground by Yan's blade. It dissipated into wisps of grey mist. Strangely, upon dispersing, the ghost's essence transformed into nourishing energy that streamed into Yan's seven orifices, healing most of his wounds.

Afterwards, he dragged the unconscious Jian Yiru out, residual smoke swirling around his body and being absorbed.

Outside the cave, leaning against the cliff, he draped his long robe over Jian. She rested her head on his shoulder. Yan gazed at the starry sky, silently vowing, "Mother, Old Man, everyone... I'll live on properly, carrying your share too!"

In her sleep, Jian tugged at the hem of Yan's clothes and unconsciously curled closer to him.

"Who would've thought senior sister could be this cute?" Yan waved a hand before Jian Yiru's eyes. Confirming she was asleep, he gave her cheek a couple of timid pokes, nodded in satisfaction, and offered a shy smile.

The night was long. Afraid of disturbing Jian, Yan remained motionless until morning.

The next day at dawn, by the time Jian Yiru awoke, Yan had already fallen unconscious without her noticing.

"Junior Brother? Junior Brother?" Jian Yiru shook Yan, sensing something was wrong. She checked his pulse. "So weak! What did he do?" Suddenly, she hazily recalled seeing Yan use a time-reversal technique during the night. "You little rascal, you've got quite the background, haven't you? And you kept it from your senior sister!" She pinched his nose, extracted a few drops of his blood, and placed them on her own forehead. "There's more to this mystery!" Her bloodline surged within, instantly replicating Yan's. Channeling it through her palm, she infused it back into his body.

After a while, Yan's pulse stabilized. Jian Yiru's lips paled slightly, but as she looked at the junior brother lying on her lap—the one who had just saved her—she thought it was worth it. Satisfied, she gently pinched his cheek. The faces of young humans really were softer.

The bright sun shining down woke Yan. Seeing he was lying on Senior Sister Jian's lap, he immediately sat up, his face reddening as he looked at her and scratched his head. "Um... Senior Sister, I accidentally fell asleep..." Yan saw Jian Yiru looking at him with a faint smile, her expression unreadable. Noticing her pale lips, he asked, "Senior Sister, are you feeling better now?"

"At least better than being dead!" Seeing Yan was fine, Jian Yiru reverted to her usual cold, deadpan expression. She pushed herself up from the ground but stumbled, nearly falling. Fortunately, Yan caught her. Not one to be stubborn, she let him support her as they returned to the village.

The village had been tidied up. The deceased villagers were buried, with tombstones erected. Everyone wore plain white hemp garments and pale headscarves. In the face of mourning, any celebrations had to be postponed.

Yan was also made to change into a white garment through Jian Yiru's spell. They proceeded to a temporary medical area. It was said that Cisheng and E Ye had led the other notable disciples of their generation and several Masters to attack Danfeng. The old Dean had ordered everyone else to remain here, rest, and then go to assist as well.

Only after learning more did Yan understand the villagers had been killed by mountain ghosts at night. That place was originally a seal. The number of factions capable of accurately breaking such a seal undetected could be counted on one hand. Coupled with this being the well-known hometown of this generation's Head Senior Brother of the Sub-Institute, the true culprit was all but obvious.

Yan initially wanted to go help, but he was forcibly restrained by both Jian Yiru and Lian Fulan. The two women seemed somewhat at odds with each other, but they didn't give Yan a hard time.

The next morning, Cisheng and the others returned. Though they were all injured to varying degrees, the expressions on their faces and the extent of everyone's injuries indicated a victory. While Danfeng likely wasn't completely destroyed, it had certainly taken a hard hit.

However, the Old Dean didn't look pleased in the end. He had wanted to lecture Cisheng, but considering the recent tragedy in the village and the understandable surge of anger, and seeing this seemed to be a premeditated act, he merely sighed, shook his head, and let it be.

Afterwards, a funeral was held. No one brought up the couple's wedding again; it was silently accepted as having taken place.

The items brought for the celebration that could be used were dyed white and utilized. Those that couldn't were either kept or buried.

Seven days later, the group departed, leaving behind only the empty village and the tombstones.

Later, Jian Yiru reported their experience in the cave to Master Xian, who relayed it to the Old Dean. Ultimately, the Old Dean formally decided to take Yan as his disciple.

Lying on his bed, Yan held a jade pendant given to him by Jian Yiru, recalling what Senior Sister Jian had said to him before they parted.

"I am of the Xi-Hua Dragon Tribe. Though not particularly powerful, our bloodline can replicate any lineage if a blueprint exists. Naturally, this makes us coveted by various powers. Fortunately, my aunt was the principal wife of the last Heterodox Emperor, which offered us some protection, and it's through my uncle-in-law's influence that I could come here.

But the Imperial City fell. My aunt died, and their fangs were bared. My father died in battle. Our tribesmen were either captured to become breeding machines or killed with their blood drained. I would have faced the same fate, but fortunately, Aunt Hua's eldest son remembered his maternal clan. His influence was only enough to protect me. So, Junior Brother, I understand your pain. If there's any discomfort in your heart, you can talk to me. I've been through similar things and can offer you some help!"

This was the first time she had spoken so much to him. He felt a bit smug and somewhat excited. Afterwards, whenever he thought of his senior sister, he would feel his whole body grow warm and his face flush.

Deep in the mountains, within a cavern abode, a wispy, almost illusory thread drifted before an elderly, white-haired man of transcendent bearing.

His visage was that of a Great Enlightened Golden Immortal, untainted and majestic; the countenance of the Patriarch Bodhi, wondrously adorned from the West.

Neither born nor perishing, traversing the triple paths; spirit and essence complete, boundless in compassionate grace.

In emptiness and stillness natural, he follows transformation; his true suchness nature acts as it will.

His venerable form shares heaven's longevity; a Great Dharma Master who has endured kalpas to illuminate his mind.

With a pinch of his hand, he caught a wispy strand and sighed. "Nine lifetimes as master and disciple, but a single lifetime's bond. Yansheng, you have come too late. This master... is somewhat weary! The calamity of reversing causality cannot be erased, so we shall use it to dilute another! The error of angering Heaven and Earth's causal laws—do not repeat it! Yet, even I may struggle to ensure the child's safety." His face had aged considerably. He coughed out a mouthful of faint, ethereal white mist, closed his eyes, and resumed his meditation.

While performing his daily divinations, Mo Wenxi suddenly coughed up a mouthful of blood—an omen of great calamity. Fortunately, the major tribulation itself was still some time away.