Ji Yunshu stood rooted to the spot, as though the surrounding clamor, the two colossal vessels, the countless probing stares — all of it had vanished. In her world, only one figure remained: that tall, unfamiliar silhouette before her.
It was really him.
Jiang Che.
No longer the Ach'er of her memories — that youth with his bright spirit, his warm, limpid gaze. Before her now stood an Elder of Xianling Sacred Ground, his bearing heavy with an estranged, commanding authority. The years had left their mark upon him, and they had washed away every trace of the warmth he once possessed.
Memories came rushing back like a flood bursting through a dam, obliterating every defense she had erected. The carefree games of their shared childhood. The moonlit vows, the whispered confessions of tender hearts.
The quarrels — her endless, unprincipled favoritism toward the "weaker" party, and her blindness to his hurt. And finally, that cup of poisoned tea she had handed to him with her own hands in Wansoul Valley — and the look in his eyes as he fell, that gaze of disbelief going gray and lifeless in an instant...
A thousand regrets, ten thousand entanglements — a torrent of explanations, confessions, and pleas for forgiveness churned and collided in her throat, but all that emerged was a single, dry and bitter whisper, her voice trembling beyond recognition:
"Long time no see... Ach'er..."
"Do you... still blame me?"
She raised tear-filled eyes, gazing at him with an almost desperate greed — yearning for his answer, yet terrified of it.
Jiang Che regarded her in silence, his eyes deep and still as an ancient well, without the slightest ripple. Then he slowly shook his head.
That gesture made Ji Yunshu's heart lurch. A faint, almost imperceptible flicker of hope kindled within her — only to be utterly extinguished by the frigid words that followed.
"If you had asked that question many years ago — of the Jiang Che who had just crawled out of hell."
His voice was perfectly level, as though recounting a tale that had nothing to do with him.
"I would have answered — yes."
"Not only did I blame you. I hated you."
"I hated your cruelty. I hated your willful blindness. I hated how you favored him again and again without principle, and ultimately drove me into the abyss from which there was no return."
Every word was like a cold file scraping across Ji Yunshu's heart. She felt as though she could barely breathe, the color draining from her face until it was as white as paper.
But Jiang Che was not finished. He turned his head slightly, his gaze passing beyond Ji Yunshu toward the high platform — where Xiao Chen stood with a furrowed brow and unconcealed concern in his eyes; where Han Yu's sharp gaze had hardened, his body already coiled, ready to strike at a moment's notice; and further still, where Chen Xingcai gripped Xiyan's hand tightly, both young women's faces etched with worry and fierce loyalty.
His gaze moved slowly across these fellow disciples, these senior and junior brothers and sisters. For the first time, the ice in his expression showed the faintest crack — like warm water flowing beneath a frozen river.
He turned back to Ji Yunshu, his eyes once again restored to their previous calm detachment — a detachment that was, beneath its surface, a genuine and complete letting go.
"But now," he continued, his tone quiet but certain, "it no longer matters."
"The Jiang Che who loved you to the bone — and therefore hated you to the bone..."
"...is already dead."
"The one who stands before you now is Jiang Che of Xianling Sacred Ground. Jiang Che of the Heavenly Alliance."
"My sect. My senior and junior brothers. My path in the Dao — they are all here."
"As for you..."
He paused briefly, as though making one final, irrevocable cut. Then he enunciated three words with absolute clarity:
"What does it have to do with me?"
Those three words — so light, yet heavier than a mountain — descended like a final judgment, severing every tie, every entanglement, every possibility of the past.
Ji Yunshu recoiled as though struck by lightning. She staggered back a step, all the strength draining from her body as the world before her lost its color. All that remained was Jiang Che's cold, indifferent face.
He no longer hated her.
Because he had already excised her — along with all the pain and betrayal of the past — entirely from his life.
And to her, that was more devastating than hatred.
Just as Jiang Che's parting words extinguished the last ember of Ji Yunshu's hope—
"Unfilial wretch!!"
A thunderous roar erupted like a crack of doom!
Jiang Rushan descended from the direction of the Jiang Clan vessel in a blur of dark light, his face livid, his hair and beard bristling, engulfed in towering fury. Without a word, he raised his palm and lashed it viciously toward Jiang Che's face! His posture was not that of a father reuniting with a long-lost son — but of a man chastising the most unforgivable of sinners!
The palm strike was razor-sharp, suffused with the full, fury-fueled power of a Heavenly Human Realm cultivator!
Yet that palm — capable of shattering monuments and splitting stone — stopped mere three inches from Jiang Che's cheek, caught in a firm, unwavering grip around the wrist!
Jiang Che had not even swayed. He had simply raised his arm with cold indifference, his five fingers clamping down like iron tongs, effortlessly blocking the slap that carried his father's "authority" and rage.
Jiang Rushan froze in shock. Then he felt the force radiating from that grip — a power far beyond anything he had imagined. No matter how desperately he channeled his spiritual energy, his face turning beet-red, he could not force his palm forward another fraction of an inch, let alone break free from that seemingly casual restraint!
"You — you insolent cur! How dare you block me?!" Jiang Rushan was both astonished and livid. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that this son — who had once cowered and submitted before him — would dare to raise a hand against him!
A cold, mirthless smile tugged at the corner of Jiang Che's mouth. His eyes were sharp as blades as he stared directly at the man who was nominally his father: "Why wouldn't I dare?"
His voice was not loud, yet it carried clearly across the entire arena, imbued with a chilling detachment and resolve.
"Did you think my words just now were meant only for Ji Yunshu?"
His gaze swept over Jiang Rushan's darkening face, then moved past him to the indistinct figures aboard the vessel behind.
"No."
"They were meant for all of you."
"The Jiang Che of the past — the one who yearned for your love and care, only to be shoved into the abyss again and again by your endless favoritism — is already dead!"
"He died in your indifference. He died beneath your biased protection!"
"The person who stands before you now is nothing more than a stranger who happens to share the same name — Jiang Che of Xianling Sacred Ground, Jiang Che of the Heavenly Alliance! He has not the slightest connection to the Jiang Clan of the Upper Realm!"
"You — you — outrageous! Utterly unfilial!" Jiang Rushan was trembling with rage, his blood pressure spiking so severely that he nearly swooned. Never in his life had he been spoken to this way by a junior — let alone by the son he considered the clan's greatest disgrace!
At that moment, Li Mengdie came rushing down from the vessel, crying out as she stumbled toward Jiang Che. Tears streamed down her face as she reached for his sleeve, her voice raw with anguish: "Che'er! My Che'er! You can't do this! You are the flesh torn from my own body! How can you abandon your father and mother? Don't you want your mother anymore? I've thought about you so much all these years — I've nearly gone mad thinking about you..."
Faced with his birth mother's tears and pleas, something deep within Jiang Che's eyes flickered — an almost imperceptible tremor of pain and wavering. The bond of blood was not so easily severed, even by the coldest resolve.
But only for an instant.
The next moment, his eyes were sealed once more behind their glacial determination. He gently brushed aside his mother's grasping hand. His voice remained cold — and because of that coldness, it seemed all the more cruel:
"Yes."
"The moment I explained myself again and again, yet you believed only Jiang Huai's side of the story—"
"The moment the finest resources, all the favor and preference, flowed naturally and unthinkingly to him—"
"The moment you tacitly allowed — even encouraged — him to rob me of everything that was rightfully mine, and then accused me of being narrow-minded for resenting it—"
Jiang Che's voice was terrifyingly calm, yet every word pierced straight to the heart.
"—I had already... let you go."
Li Mengdie staggered back as though struck. She stared at her son in disbelief, as though seeing him for the very first time. Her sobbing cut off abruptly, leaving only an endless, desolate void.
And at that moment, a voice rang down from the heavens — dignified and composed, yet underlaid with unmistakable anger, each syllable carrying a rhythmic authority:
"Jiang Che! Look at what you've done to your own parents! Such unfilial conduct — is this how a son should behave?!"
Before the words faded, a figure wreathed in flowing, iridescent light descended gracefully, landing squarely before Jiang Rushan and Li Mengdie.
It was Jiang Huai!
He wore the same resplendent brocade robes as always, his features handsome and refined, his bearing transcendent — as though he carried a natural, innate radiance.
The moment his feet touched the ground, he made no deliberate show of power. Yet an aura unique to a Saint Realm great cultivator — vast and overwhelming as the tide — rolled outward naturally and effortlessly, instantly enveloping the entire arena!
This pressure was immeasurably denser, more majestic, and more soul-shaking than anything Jiang Rushan or the others had mustered! It was as though an invisible mountain had crashed down upon every heart in the venue!
Countless cultivators below the platform paled instantly. Those of weaker cultivation gasped for breath, their legs going weak, nearly collapsing to their knees! They stared in horror at the devastatingly handsome figure who stood among them like a god descended to earth, a single thought echoing in their minds: This — this is the true power of an Upper Realm expert?!
Jiang Huai stood there, his gaze carrying a hint of pained disappointment, a measure of rebuke, and above all — a lofty, condescending scrutiny — fixed unerringly upon Jiang Che.
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