A master of both medicine and martial arts, he picked up a beautiful CEO as his wife.

The door opened silently inward.

It wasn't as dusty and pungent as I had imagined, nor as moldy and rotten as if no one had ever been there. The thick stone door didn't even creak when it turned, as if it had been gently closed by someone just last night.

A musty, old scent, carrying herbs and sandalwood, wafted towards them. Ye Feng, protecting Lin Yuqing and Shen Yu, walked step by step into the exhibition hall.

Ye Feng was all too familiar with that smell. It was angelica, it was astragalus, it was the agarwood incense his master often burned when refining pills—a blend of several ingredients, dense and intricate, instantly pulling him back to his mountain days six years ago. His nose tingled with emotion; he almost imagined that if he turned around, he would see his master standing beside the alchemy furnace, his face showing disapproval that he still couldn't see the heat properly.

But there was no one in the hall!

The Hidden Vein Hall was not particularly dark.

The footsteps behind her echoed softly in the vast hall. Lin Yuqing subconsciously slowed her breathing, and even her restlessness seemed to subside miraculously the moment she stepped through the hall's doors—yes, this hall was quite familiar to her.

Dozens of fist-sized luminous pearls adorned the ceiling, emitting a soft, ethereal glow that illuminated the entire hall, revealing every detail. The hall was vast, its walls covered with intricate stone carvings. Some depicted the pathways of meridians, others displayed ancient and complex martial arts incantations, while still others painted murals of ancient legends, weathered and enigmatic.

The pearly light was not dazzling, but warm and smooth, like moonlight reflected in water. When Ye Feng looked up, he felt as if a starry sky had been hanging above his head for centuries, shining on countless people who had come and gone in the palace.

Shen Yu reached out and touched one of the meridian charts, his fingertips tracing the cold stone, his expression strange: "This chart is more ancient and exquisite than the records on my mountain. This is the foundation that my master guarded in this hall."

Ye Feng did not respond; his gaze passed over the tall diagrams and landed directly on the center of the hall.

In the center of the hall was a large jade platform about ten feet square. On it were some things placed quietly: an ancient bamboo slip wrapped in silk, a piece of warm white jade, and a letter.

The cover of that letter bore a handwriting he knew all too well.

"Master!" Ye Feng's voice abruptly stopped.

Those were his master's words, vigorous and powerful, just like the man in his heart who always stood with his hands behind his back on the edge of the cliff, staring blankly at the sea of ​​clouds.

He almost trembled as he took the letter.

The cover simply reads "Feng'er Qi".

Ye Feng's eyes immediately welled up with tears.

He went up the mountain at the age of sixteen. His master rescued him from a mass grave at the foot of Nirvana Mountain when he was seriously ill and unconscious, and almost lost his life due to his strange cold illness.

It was his master who used all his medical skills to pull him back from the underworld; it was his master who taught him, step by step, how to identify herbs, how to read pulses, how to practice martial arts, and how to be a good person. For six years, they were master and disciple, like father and son.

Back then, in that desolate graveyard, overgrown with weeds and sparsely populated, crows flew about indiscriminately. A nameless child, who didn't even know where he came from, huddled among the piles of graves, his fever fading until he was barely breathing. It was the old man who had been standing by with his hands behind his back who knelt down, placed his thin, withered hand on the child's pulse, thought for a long time, and then simply said, "This child has an interesting background," before carrying him back on his back.

With that one carry, he carried away half of the life force that had been draining him, and he also carried back the only home he had ever lived in.

Since leaving the mountain, he has struggled in the mortal world, fighting against the Li family and Tianheng, doing one thing after another. Countless times he was on the verge of death, but he gritted his teeth and persevered. But in the dead of night, what he misses most is the smoke rising from the top of Nirvana Mountain and his master's words: "Feng'er, is the fire ready yet?"

That phrase, the master had said for who knows how many centuries. He said it when boiling Chinese medicine, he said it when making elixirs, and when he punched a wooden stick until his hands were bleeding, the master just stood there with his hands behind his back and lazily said one sentence: "Is the timing right?" At that time, he was very annoyed. Now, thinking back, it was the most foolish method of an old man, slowly rubbing the little bit of skill he had learned in his life into his bones.

And now, the person has returned.

But the master is gone!

All that remained was this letter, lying quietly on the jade platform, its origin unknown.

"Junior Brother!" Shen Yu walked to his side, his voice trembling slightly. "Master... he must still be alive! Look at this palace, the seals, the items left behind, the messages left behind—everything is so well prepared. Master foresaw this day would come, so he arranged everything in advance. He was preparing to leave, not..."

"I know." Ye Feng took a deep breath, suppressing the overwhelming emotions within him. "Someone like Master can't possibly be in trouble."

He certainly felt that way, but the hidden meaning behind "preparing to go out" made his heart clench with tension. Since his master had foreseen that day long ago, it meant that he had seen this great calamity heading towards Nirvana Mountain and Lin Yuqing many years ago. He saw it, but did not alert anyone, and packed everything needed, everything needed, into this hall, one by one.

How heavy must a man's burden be to conceal such a tremendous disaster so subtly?

Ye Feng stared at the warm, smooth white jade on the jade platform, and suddenly his nose twitched again. He recognized that white jade; it was a treasure his master had worn close to his body for decades, never daring to take it off. Now, even that was inside.

He lowered his head, looking at the letter in his hand, his fingers trembling uncontrollably.

Outside the hall were the greedy tigers that Shang Zhi had been eyeing; inside the hall were the mysteries his master had left him, the answers to many of his life's questions.

He knew that this letter contained many things, a box he wanted to know but dared not open: his background, his near-death experience, his relationship with his master, his relationship with Lin Yuqing, and the root of all their entanglements.

She looked up at Lin Yuqing beside her.

Her face showed concern, and her eyes sparkled as she looked at him, filled with their love.

Seeing Ye Feng's gaze fall on her, Lin Yuqing gripped his hand tightly, silently supporting him.

Without saying anything, I stood beside him and held his hand, as if to tell him: No matter what happens after you see this, no matter what the final truth is, I will be there for you to bear it.

You could feel that her fingertips were also icy cold.

He was worried about him, but those two cold hands and an invisible line made Ye Feng feel very at ease.

Her coldness mingled with her body heat.

There is nothing more comforting than this!

With a "snap," Ye Feng tore open the letter that he had never had the courage to open before.