In front of the gates of the Xuan family, three figures stepped forward. On the left stood Chen Ming, his face battered and swollen. Beside him stood Morse and Ni Ni Layan, remarkably calm before the guards, who immediately snapped into a state of high alert.
The air crackled with hostility as glances were exchanged.
"No guests are permitted at this time. Please return another day," a guard barked.
Though Morse had only awakened yesterday, he had already devised a foolproof plan. Since they were treating him like a stranger, he decided to play their game.
"I have an urgent matter," Morse stated. "One of your family members has assaulted my younger brother. If we do not receive an explanation, we shall take our rights by force."
The guards looked at the battered Chen Ming, who stared back with such feigned gravity that he truly appeared to be an oppressed victim seeking justice. Morse raised his hand, pointing toward the estate.
"You are shielding the culprit inside with flimsy excuses. I know he is within."
The guards were well aware of the hidden warriors lurking in the shadows, waiting for the signal to strike.
"Who are you referring to? If you make an accusation, you must provide proof," one guard demanded.
Morse smiled. He was more than prepared. "I can make him confess his deeds directly before you."
One of the massive guards, his face marked by a central scar, finally lost his patience. "Oh? And just who is this person?"
Morse signaled for Chen Ming to speak. "Who struck you, my brother?"
Chen Ming exhaled a quiet sigh and looked at them. "The one who beat me is Morse Xuan of your family. Bring him out."
The guards stood frozen, their minds struggling to process this utter absurdity. "Who?"
"Don't you hear?" Morse interjected. "He said Morse Xuan."
"Then who is standing in front of me?" the guard stammered.
"Merely a seeker of justice."
The guards couldn't believe their ears. "Are you joking?"
Morse's expression shifted to one of annoyance. "You truly are fools. If you cannot find him, we shall find him ourselves. We demand justice for our brother."
The guards choked back their rage, forced smiles curling into cruel sneers as they clung to the last shred of their sanity. "That man is not here. He was disowned long ago."
Morse's smile grew increasingly cryptic. "Would you care to wager? I bet that if I step inside, I will find him. And then, I shall charge you with harboring a fugitive."
The atmosphere grew even more strained. "You have no rights here. If you came to jest, do not expect things to end pleasantly."
Morse scanned the perimeter; everything was in place. None of the guards realized that while they were preoccupied, someone—someone the entire Xuan family would soon come to curse—was already moving.
Along the high walls where the hidden warriors lay in wait, a faint, distinct fragrance began to drift. It caressed their senses, making their hearts race with a strange wave of sudden excitement. They turned toward the source to find a woman with hair as black as the abyss and blood-red eyes. Her presence was an intoxicating invasion of the senses.
Tian'er Mengshi swayed with fluid grace, unveiling a seductive display that left the sentries gasping. With a finger to her lips, she blew an enticing kiss. She had successfully enthralled the guards, sending a spiritual signal that allowed Morse to advance without a flicker of fear.
"You know, there's no use for pretenses now..."
Before they could react, a spider-sized robot skittered out of Morse's sleeve and dropped to the ground. In a flash, it lunged at the guard, binding him completely with iron-wire filaments and injecting a sedative. The remaining guards fared no better—they were already being neutralized by the swift, surgical strikes of Ni Ni Layan.
The gate was breached with clinical precision. With the family's focus centered on Bing Xuan's critical condition, the path to the heart of the estate was nearly deserted. The trio ghosted through the grounds until they reached the beating heart of the Xuan family: the Ancestral Shrine.
After tranquilizing the nearby servant, they slipped through the heavy gates. Morse surveyed the interior—grand statues of the Xuan emperors loomed in the shadows. But in the center of the hall stood a man with disheveled hair, clad in a nondescript blue robe.
He turned his head, and father and son finally stood face to face.
"Are you ready...?"
Feng Xuan looked upon his son. Morse remained on high alert.
"Are you still afraid?" the Patriarch asked, his eyes now pits of darkness. His true intentions remained obscured, but his body twitched with a strange, rhythmic tremor every few seconds.
Morse was wary. He had received a message the night before from a peak Golden Core cultivator revealing Tian'er MengXi's location and commanding him to come to the shrine to be appointed the next Clan Head. Morse had coordinated with MengXi, giving her an incomplete Seduction Technique manual he bought from the System—refined by Ni Ni Layan—to ensure her cooperation.
But he knew one thing: there is no such thing as a free lunch.
"Don't think I'm a fool," Morse said. "You definitely want something. Don't try to act like you feel guilty."
The Patriarch's face remained a mask of indifference. "I do not feel guilty."
"Oh? Then why are you handing me the position?"
Feng Xuan closed his eyes, eerily calm. "The family never actually bestowed the position of legitimate heir upon Bing. Everyone was merely led to believe so because he assumed your title of First Young Master."
Morse frowned, trying to decipher the man's plan. "You gain nothing from this. Do you think I don't know you're trying to deceive me?"
The Patriarch raised his hands. "Morse... you want this position. I will not announce your succession publicly. Instead, the title will pass to you before the Ancestral Mural. You will be handed the Secret Unit and the Key of Truth."
He raised a finger. "But you will be the Secret Head. The one who will be handed the leadership in public is your brother, Bing Xuan."
Feng Xuan realized that the Demonic Child would soon seize total control of him. Once he lost his will, power would mean nothing. This had been the law since the ancestors first discovered the technique. However, Feng had decided that Bing was incompetent for the role. Yet, he could not openly defy Concubine Qian because of the Demonic Child.
His solution: deliver the true command to Morse, and the hollow, public title to Bing.
"I cannot trust you... not yet. What guarantee do I have that this position will truly be mine?"
Feng Xuan turned away and adjusted his robes. He walked toward the statues of the ancestors, sank to his knees, and pressed his forehead to the cold floor.
"By the names of Heaven and Earth, Yin and Yang... the true balance of the universe... and in the names of the Ancestors... I surrender my position to the rightful heir: Morse Xuan, son of Feng Xuan, son of Lin Xuan, son of Hai Ming Xuan."
The eyes of the statues suddenly ignited, glowing with a divine light. A violent tremor seized Feng Xuan's entire body; the Demonic Child was clawing from within, trying desperately to halt the succession.
Feng Xuan was funneling every ounce of his negative karma, bolstering his strength one last time to channel it into the Headship Stone. With pure, raw power, he carved the name "Morse Xuan" into the stone in indelible characters that could never be erased.
"Zin Si... come forth."
Out of the void emerged a warrior whose face was entirely concealed. A cultivator at the Mid-Stage of the Nascent Soul Realm knelt before the Patriarch.
The Patriarch gestured toward them. "The Secret Operations Unit. This unit, comprised of our strongest warriors, is our greatest asset. You may only command them in matters concerning the clan. Should they be ordered to perform personal whims that harm the clan, they will not obey."
Morse stood stunned. He had only glimpsed this unit a handful of times in his life; he had no idea they possessed such overwhelming power.
"From this moment forward," Feng Xuan gasped, "you are Patriarch Morse Xuan."
Suddenly, twenty individuals appeared, all kneeling in unison before him. Their cultivation levels were staggering. They were now his subordinates. It was utter madness.
At that exact moment, Ni Ni Layan and Chen Ming rushed in, paralyzed with shock. They couldn't fathom what they had just heard from the Patriarch—it was too easy, too unbelievable.
As they drew closer, Feng Xuan's body convulsed violently on the floor. He collapsed in the center of the hall, and from his falling frame, a blood-red energy surged forth. It lunged with staggering speed, darting directly toward Ni Ni Layan as she moved to stand by Morse.
{Hahaha... I am finished with this old man's carcass! Come here, little girl! }
The Demon fed on sin; the deeper the transgression, the greater his power and the strength of his host. Now, with Feng Xuan's death, he had to migrate to a new vessel—the moment he had long craved. He was at the peak of the Nascent Soul Realm, and she was at the peak of the Soul Palace Realm.
She would not be able to escape.
However, the moment he drew close enough to glimpse the depths of her soul, his arrogance turned to pure terror.
{What is this?! WHAT IS THIS?!}
The Demonic Child had no way of knowing that the body he had just chosen to invade was the single worst choice he could have made in his entire existence.
"Oh... you look like an excellent cultivation tool,"
Ni Ni Layan remarked calmly.
She wasn't affected in the least. Instead, she looked down at Feng Xuan's corpse as if, even in death, he hadn't forgotten to deliver one final gift to her.