Xian Ni: The God of Killing Returns, Marries Li Muwan at the Beginning

Upon hearing that Li Muwan had successfully broken through to the Nirvana Realm, Li Qiqing was also shocked, unable to believe that his younger sister was now a second-step expert.

When she left, Li Muwan was probably at the Ascending Realm. In just a few hundred years, she has already reached the early stage of Nirvana Insight and entered the Ascension Pool. It's simply astonishing.

“Brother, my cultivation level is already the lowest. Even Little Red Butterfly’s five spirits have all reached the late-stage Great Perfection of Nirvana Realm.”

With a smile, Hongdie stuck out her cute little tongue at Li Qiqing, then took Lin Che's arm and said, "Master, let's go home. I haven't been back to the bamboo forest in so long."

Lin Che nodded, looked at Li Qiqing, Zhang Kuang and the others in front of him, and said, "Junior Brother Zhang Kuang, I'll leave the rest to you. I'm currently recovering the spiritual energy of Vermilion Bird Star, and within three years, it should be able to recover to its previous level."

Zhang Kuang bowed respectfully towards Lin Che's position and said softly, "Thank you, Senior Brother. On behalf of all cultivators within the Zhao Kingdom, I express my gratitude!"

Lin Che smiled without saying a word, patted his shoulder, and turned to lead the others toward the bamboo forest behind the mountain.

Li Muwan decided to spend some time with her brother. After all, the two siblings hadn't seen each other for many years, and naturally they had a lot to talk about.

Wang Lin looked at Wang Zhuo in front of him, a trace of sadness flashing in his eyes: "In the past few hundred years, I never thought you would have broken through to the Nascent Soul stage."

"I'm sorry about what happened back then."

Wang Zhuo smiled bitterly and shook his head, saying, "If you had said this to me back then, I wouldn't have forgiven you, but now... our enemy has fallen, and my family has become the number one family in Zhao."

Looking at the complex emotions in Wang Zhuo's eyes, Wang Lin remained silent for a moment before his voice became somewhat hoarse.

"I owe you a great deal for what happened back then. When the Wang family suffered a great calamity, I was trapped in a desperate situation and powerless to help. In recent years, I have often thought about what happened back then in the middle of the night."

Wang Zhuo's hands, hanging by his sides, tightened slightly, his nails almost digging into his palms: "Wang Lin, there's no need for this. Now that our great revenge has been achieved, there is no longer any enmity between us."

He looked up at Wang Lin, his eyes swirling with indescribable emotions, "It's just a pity about what happened back then..."

Wang Lin changed the subject, asking, "Where's Wang Hao? I haven't seen him anywhere."

Wang Zhuo shook his head and said bitterly, "He didn't succeed in the Nascent Soul transformation... he's... dead."

Upon hearing that Wang Zhuo had perished many years ago, Wang Lin felt as if his heart was being torn apart, finally understanding that the cultivation world was often cruel and ruthless.

Wang Lin silently followed behind Wang Zhuo, step by step onto the bluestone path of the Wang family's ancestral home.

The once faded vermilion gate has long been replaced by a massive gate made of black iron, but the "Wang Family" plaque hanging above the gate is still the same one from back then.

The edges have been worn smooth by time, and the peeling gold paint reveals dark brown wood grain, much like the wrinkles on an old man's face.

As Wang Lin walked through the training ground in the front yard, he paused.

The bluestone paving stones that once covered this place have mostly been replaced with obsidian, which is believed to gather spiritual energy, with only a small section in the northwest corner remaining unchanged.

"This place was renovated last year."

Wang Zhuo's voice came from the front. He reached out and pushed open the door to the main hall. "When we were very young, the elders in the clan said that this land was passed down from our ancestors and could not be touched."

The furnishings in the main hall were simple yet solemn. A huge family genealogy hung on the north wall, the yellowed silk cloth densely covered with names, but many of them were marked with a conspicuous red cross.

Wang Lin's gaze swept over the red crosses, his fingertips trembling slightly. He recognized most of them: Uncle Wang, who always gave him candied hawthorns, and Grandpa Wang, who taught him to carve array patterns.

And... Wang Hao's crooked name, with a red cross next to it like an unhealed scar.

“Every year during the Qingming Festival, I come here to add some new ink.” Wang Zhuo picked up the wolf-hair brush on the table, dipped it in cinnabar, and added two new names at the bottom of the family genealogy.

"This is the grandson of a disciple of the clan who was born last year. His name is Wang Nian'an, which means 'to remember the past and be at peace'."

Looking at the two brand-new names, Wang Lin suddenly felt his eyes welling up with tears. He turned to look out the window, where the old locust tree in the yard was still there.

The tree is lush and leafy, but there is a deep crack on the trunk, which must have been left during the great battle.

"Back then, you always said that tea made from the flowers of this locust tree was the most fragrant."

Wang Zhuo brought over two cups of tea and placed them on the stone table. "I have people collect some nectar every year during the flowering season, and I've stored quite a bit."

Wang Lin picked up the teacup, feeling the warmth from his fingertips. The tea went down his throat, sweet with a hint of astringency, exactly the same taste as he remembered.

Gazing at the ripples in the glass, I suddenly heard Wang Zhuo say in a low voice, "The day Wang Hao left, he was also sitting on this stone bench. He said if he could hold on until you came back, he also said..."

Wang Zhuo paused, looking down at a shallow mark on the stone bench. It was a crooked "wait" character carved by Wang Hao with his sword sheath, the last stroke of which was dragged out long, like a weak tail.

"He couldn't keep going after carving half of it."

Wang Zhuo reached out and touched the engraved mark, his fingertips rubbing against the rough stone surface. He sighed and said, "I buried him on the back mountain, right next to the roots of the old locust tree. He said he wanted to watch over the Wang family forever."

Wang Lin put down his teacup, stood up and walked towards the backyard. As he passed the artificial hill, he saw a dry well with vines climbing all over its rim.

"This well has been abandoned for a long time."

Wang Zhuo followed, his voice a little hoarse, "A few years ago, someone wanted to fill it in, but I didn't let them. I always felt... that keeping something would make me feel more at ease."

The setting sun shone through the gaps in the locust tree leaves, casting dappled light and shadow on the ground.

Wang Lin gazed towards the distant back mountain, its outline gradually blurring in the twilight.

He suddenly realized that the Wang family's descendants had guarded this ancestral home and these old things not to reminisce about past glories.

Instead, he wanted to leave a memory for the deceased and a sense of belonging for the living in this cruel world of cultivation.

"Come visit often in the future."

Wang Lin's voice was soft, yet clear in the twilight.

Wang Zhuo nodded, turned and walked towards the main hall, his shadow stretching long in the setting sun.

Wang Lin watched his retreating figure, then looked at the old locust tree, and slowly clenched his fist.

The jade slip in his palm hurt painfully. It was his newly compiled notes on Yin deficiency, which he had originally intended to give to Wang Hao and Wang Zhuo. Now, perhaps he could keep it for Wang Nian'an.

The wind rustled through the locust tree leaves.

It's as if you can still hear the laughter of the children from back then, mixed with the distant chirping of birds, lingering in this quiet ancestral home.

(End of this chapter)