Chapter 71 – The Roots of the Liu Clan
The Crimson Forest slept beneath silver light. Every petal of the silver-flower tree shimmered faintly, casting ripples of moonlight across the moss. The air felt alive — charged, reverent, as though the heavens themselves paused to watch what was about to unfold.
Liu Ren stood before Luo Shuang, his long black coat stirring faintly with the wind. For once, the cold mask that shadowed his face softened. His eyes — deep, storm-gray — lingered on her with quiet warmth that words could never reach.
Between them, the forest was silent except for the steady thrum of spirit energy gathering beneath their feet.
He raised his hand. A small, black jade ring floated above his palm — unadorned, yet its glow carried the gravity of vows older than stone. Without ceremony, without witnesses, he slid it onto her finger. The jade caught the moonlight, its reflection faintly trembling with the pulse of her heartbeat.
Luo Shuang's breath hitched. "Ren… is this—?"
He nodded once. His voice was low, rough from battles and silence.
> "It's us, Shuang'er. A shelter in this chaos."
She smiled through tears, the silver petals above them falling like quiet blessings. They stepped closer, foreheads touching, the faint scent of rain and soul flame mingling. No grand vows. No heavens to bear witness. Just two scarred souls — one fugitive, one mortal — sealing eternity in silence.
Their hands intertwined. The forest trembled.
By dawn, the clearing no longer looked the same.
Liu Ren stood bare-chested beneath the silver tree, his body streaked with cuts of raw energy. His hands moved in deliberate, measured seals. The Spirit-Gathering Formation unfolded like a living thing. The ground split, valleys shifting, rivers bending in new directions. Qi poured into the forest like molten light, bending to his will.
Each motion burned through his veins. Each rune pressed into the earth demanded blood.
From a ridge, Luo Shuang watched, awe widening her eyes. "You're building a home," she whispered.
He didn't stop. "A clan," he corrected, voice hoarse. "Our clan. If danger follows me here — this will shield us."
She walked closer, resting a trembling hand on his arm. "If this peace comes with risk… I'll still choose it — with you."
He turned to her, eyes softening. "Then the heavens can burn," he murmured, and sealed the final rune.
The Liu Clan's nascent ground was born — hidden under the folds of altered ley lines, invisible to even divine eyes.
Months later, under the same silver tree, Luo Shuang lay within their small, spirit-warded home. The room was filled with the fragrance of healing herbs and fresh wood. A newborn's cry pierced the stillness — soft, frail, but alive.
Her hair shimmered silver under the lantern light, her tiny fingers curling around her mother's hand.
Liu Ren sat beside them, hands trembling as he held the child. The coldness that once haunted his face melted into something human. "Yan'er," he whispered, the name tasting like grief and memory.
Luo Shuang blinked, exhausted yet radiant. "Why… Yan'er?"
He paused, gaze distant, haunted. His fingers brushed the child's hair, and faint dark Qi washed through it, dyeing it raven-black. "Her name will be Liu Yue," he said quietly, turning away as if hiding something too heavy for words.
That night, Luo Shuang slept peacefully with their daughter in her arms.
Liu Ren didn't.
He stood alone outside, bare feet pressed to the soil, eyes reflecting the moon. The Crimson Forest whispered through him. His aura flickered — half divine, half demonic — as he drove his body through technique after technique. Every swing, every breath was punishment. Every motion was a prayer to keep his past buried.
Eight years passed.
The Liu Clan flourished quietly. The once-wild forest hummed with balance — herbs grew in clusters around spirit veins, the soil thick with Qi.
One night, rain fell again, just as it had all those years ago.
Luo Shuang ran from their hut when she saw his silhouette through the downpour.
Liu Ren emerged from the forest, his coat soaked, his expression grim. In his arms was a half-dead boy — no older than nine. His body was bruised, his breath faint. His eyes… black sclera, white pupils faintly glowing with something unearthly.
Luo Shuang gasped. "Ren… who is this child?"
He knelt, placing the boy gently into her arms. "His name is Lin Xuan."
"An orphan?" she asked softly.
Liu Ren shook his head, eyes shadowed.
> "No, Shuang'er. He's fate rewritten. He doesn't belong to this age… but he'll decide it."
He extended his hand, three droplets of his blood rising from his palm and sinking into the boy's forehead. Crimson runes bloomed, forming the Three Seals of Protection. Each seal burned through him, costing him fragments of his soul.
When it was done, he staggered back, his breath shallow. The boy stirred faintly.
Liu Ren's hand hovered over Lin Xuan's face. With a twist of his fingers, his illusion art veiled the child's eyes — the eyes that once glowed white turned a deep, crimson red, concealing his true nature.
Luo Shuang pressed a hand to her lips. "He looks like he's yours."
Ren didn't answer. "From this day, he is," he said.
Two years later, laughter returned to the Liu home.
Luo Shuang gave birth again — this time to a boy, healthy and loud, with his father's will in his eyes.
They named him Liu Yang.
For the first time, Liu Ren laughed — a real laugh — watching Lin Xuan and Liu Yue spar in the courtyard, the air filled with warmth, Qi, and childish pride. Luo Shuang watched from the veranda, her smile serene.
In that fleeting peace, Liu Ren almost believed he had escaped fate.
But beyond the skies, the Divine Realm stirred once more.
In a fractured sanctum of white fire and broken halos, divine figures gathered. The air burned with holy fury.
> "Damn it! ShenYi Ren is running again!"
"We must cleanse the entire domain!"
A towering voice echoed, distorted by wrath.
> "We can't. It would destroy us all," another answered grimly. "Besides, the Crimson Veil and Team Professor still move against our ranks. Their assassins slaughter our weakest kin."
Their leader, seated upon a cracked throne of light, leaned forward, eyes blazing with loathing.
> "Then find him. Before Demon God's vessels' lineage grows beyond our reach."
In the mortal world, the air shifted.
Liu Ren stood once again beneath the silver-flower tree. His aura trembled, sensing the distant gaze of gods cutting through dimensions.
He turned toward Luo Shuang — asleep inside with their children — one last time. Then his eyes settled on the boy standing silently beside him — a youth with red-black hair and an unsettling calm in his expression.
"Let's Go" he said quietly.
The youth nodded, following him into the mist.
Before he left, Liu Ren knelt and pressed a stone tablet into the soil beside the house. His finger carved a single line of words into its surface:
> "Your fate is heavier than mine. Don't let it weigh you down."
The next morning, the Liu Clan woke to sunlight, unaware their patriarch had vanished into legend —
and that the echoes of his vow would one day awaken in the heart of a crimson-eyed boy named Lin Xuan.