The Great Demon Lord Qingbai went into hiding, living an ordinary life with a wife and children.
Because of such a father, Chen Guan had to act cautiously in everything he did, avoiding any connection with the Ancestral Court for fear of someone uncovering his family background.
Yet Chen Guan bore no resentment toward his father. Even if the man had betrayed the entire world, he had never failed Chen Guan and his mother—what reason was there for hatred?
To others, Qingbai was a great demon lord, but to Chen Guan, he was a decent father.
Without this tainted identity, Chen Guan would have gladly joined the Celestial Army. Unfortunately, he feared background checks too much, unsure whether his father's true identity might be exposed. Better safe than sorry.
"I'd love to join the Celestial Army, but I'd rather stay alive," Chen Guan said calmly.
His understanding of Ji Nanhong's background deepened. For her to casually suggest a fresh graduate like him—who hadn't even reached Second Awakening—could enter the Celestial Army spoke volumes about her connections.
Ji Nanhong grew visibly frustrated at his words, lips trembling as if to speak, yet ultimately remaining silent.
She'd seen through Chen Guan's nature—handsome on the outside but with courage smaller than a peanut, utterly unwilling to take risks.
"I do have an idea, if you're willing to try," Chen Guan suddenly spoke up just as Ji Nanhong felt most helpless.
"Let's hear it," Ji Nanhong replied, curious about his proposal.
Chen Guan glanced at the shadow on the stone wall before slowly explaining: "If what you said is true—that this shadow was left by the Ancestral Emperor to guard The Epang Scripture and ensure its preservation—then wouldn't his duty be fulfilled once we master the scripture and pass on its legacy?"
Ji Nanhong's cheeks flushed slightly as she thought indignantly: "Earlier you refused dual cultivation, and now you bring this up? Clearly you want to dual cultivate with me after all."
"Not necessarily. Who said The Epang Scripture can only have one successor? Even if only one heir were needed, the shadow might not leave afterward," Ji Nanhong countered, though she felt inexplicably pleased raising these objections.
"Of course, no one decreed The Epang Scripture must have a single heir, and I never said the shadow would leave," Chen Guan replied evenly.
"Then what do you mean?" Ji Nanhong frowned, confused by his intentions.
Chen Guan leaned closer, whispering: "If your stories about the Ancestral Emperor and Epang are true, then this island and everything here were prepared for Epang. But before the Ancestral Emperor stormed the Sky Secret Realm, Epang wasn't revived, leaving this place abandoned after his disappearance."
"That seems correct—what's the issue?" Ji Nanhong pondered.
"The problem is, since everything here was meant for Epang, would the Ancestral Emperor really allow others to claim it so easily? Wouldn't he have safeguards against outsiders practicing The Epang Scripture?" Chen Guan pointed out.
Ji Nanhong saw some logic in this but countered: "Perhaps he left too abruptly to establish sufficient restrictions. Otherwise, how could we have entered?"
"You were born on July 15th, correct?" Chen Guan changed topics without refuting her.
"Why ask that?" Ji Nanhong frowned.
"My guess is Epang was also born on July 15th. Only those born on this date and teleported into the Blessed Land of Mount Pingdu on July 15th could reach this island—the Ancestral Emperor's first safeguard," Chen Guan theorized.
"You're right," Ji Nanhong admitted, having clearly known this already.
"With such restrictions and a shadow guarding the scripture, do you really think the cunning Ancestral Emperor would let others take what belonged to Epang? Allow outsiders to practice a secret technique customized for her?" Chen Guan continued analyzing. New ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄhapters are published on nοvelfire.net
"Given the Ancestral Emperor's brilliance... no, he wouldn't," Ji Nanhong conceded after a long pause, realizing she'd been overly idealistic.
"So unless you're Epang herself, practicing that scripture on the wall means certain death," Chen Guan stated firmly.
Ji Nanhong frowned slightly: "Even if we don't practice it now, couldn't we learn it after leaving?"
"Meaning we can never leave," Chen Guan declared.
Ji Nanhong stared at him blankly, her face gradually paling.
She fully understood now—they weren't Epang, so the Ancestral Emperor would never let them leave alive.
"If so, why hasn't the shadow killed us already? That would be simple for it," Ji Nanhong found another inconsistency.
"Because its intelligence is limited—it can't determine if we're Epang. Epang died long ago, and the Ancestral Emperor couldn't bring her here for identification. Thus the shadow doesn't know Epang either; it needs methods to verify if we're whom the Ancestral Emperor awaited. I suspect this verification occurs during or after practicing the dual cultivation technique."
"Then if we can't practice dual cultivation, what's your plan?" Ji Nanhong grew more confused about Chen Guan's earlier proposal.
"Who said we can't practice it?" Chen Guan smiled.
Ji Nanhong's frown deepened: "First you say practicing it would expose us, now you say we can? Make up your mind!"
"I mean we can practice it while making the shadow believe we're Epang—or even convince it we are Epang," Chen Guan explained casually.
"How's that possible?" Ji Nanhong thought he was spinning fantasies.
Could the Ancestral Emperor's designs really be fooled so easily?
"Why not? Like Epang, we were born on July 15th. Our presence here proves we share significant similarities with her," Chen Guan argued.
Ji Nanhong gave him a strange look: "Me impersonating Epang is one thing, but how would you, a man, pretend to be her?"
"Who said I'd impersonate Epang? Dual cultivation requires a man and woman. Didn't you say this technique was prepared for the Ancestral Emperor and Epang? You play Epang, and naturally I'll play the Ancestral Emperor—why would I impersonate Epang? That would make two Epangs," Chen Guan chuckled by her ear.