"Little Wujing, Little Wujing, you bear the name Tian!" The elder’s eyes began to redden, his hands slowly pushing apart. "It was the Tian Family who raised you, birthed you, provided for you! How dare you? How could you!"
"Ancestor, rest assured." Tian Wujing said. "In this lifetime, Wujing pledges:
If I am fortunate, after trampling Jiangnan, I will return to the Tian Residence to end my own life.
If I am not, I will die on the battlefield.
Regardless, after today, Wujing will have no old age."
"Who made you do this? Was it the Ji Family emperor? Who in the Ji Family is the emperor now? Who?"
"The current Emperor is named Runhao."
"Hahahaha! Why? For what reason? Even though I have not been involved in worldly affairs for decades, I just want to ask why! Why, because the Ji Family produced a capable ruler, must my Tian Family... No, that’s not right. It’s not just my Tian Family, is it?"
"The Four Great Clans. Not a single one will remain."
"You... you’re going to slaughter the aristocracy of Yan until rivers of blood flow! Rivers of blood! Aren’t you afraid of plunging Yan into chaos, giving the barbarians, the Qian State, and the Jin State an opportunity?"
"In response to your question, Ancestor, the Barbarian Royal Court is in decline, the frontier army of the Qian State is corrupt, and the Jin State is mired in internal conflict.
This is a once-in-a-century opportunity for Yan. Wujing does not wish to miss it, nor do I want Yan to miss it."
"So, you claim to be thinking about the future of Yan, while I am merely thinking about one family, one name?"
"Governing a great state is like cooking a small delicacy. By resorting to such brutal means, do you truly believe the world will operate as you wish? Will the people of the realm be convinced?"
"In response to your question, Ancestor: Yan’s three most powerful armies—the 300,000 iron cavalry of the Northern Army, the 50,000 vanguard and 50,000 rearguard of the Southern Army, and the 200,000 Imperial Guards—are all in our hands.
Most of the private soldiers of the great clans have already gathered in Tiancheng.
With the strongest armies of Yan at our command, the legitimacy of Yan’s Imperial Family supporting us, and this once-in-a-century opportunity before us,
Wujing, incompetent though I may be, can see no reason for defeat."
"Ah, Little Wujing, you underestimate the great clans of Yan."
"Ancestor, it is you who overestimate these great clans. You overestimate these maggots clinging to the bone, these dregs of the nation."
"In that case, Little Wujing, now that you stand before me, is there anything else you wish to teach this old man?"
Tian Wujing bowed low once more.
He said with utmost sincerity, "Wujing implores Ancestor to ascend to Heaven!"
"Very well! Today, this old man shall see if a fine son of our Tian Family truly has the audacity to utter such bold words!"
Two rays of light shot out from the elder’s crimson eyes, not aimed directly at Tian Wujing, but scattering midway.
In the next moment, numerous green phantoms manifested around Tian Wujing.
These figures all resembled the elder, but portrayed him at different stages of his life.
Each phantom—whether laughing, scolding, swaggering, or aggrieved—displayed a different expression.
Gradually, these figures, initially the spitting image of the elder, began to morph.
There were phantoms of Mrs. Tian, of Tian Bokai, of other members of the Tian Clan, and even of Ji Runhao, Li Liangting, and Dujuan.
Their words, their expressions, were like countless threads coiling around him, tugging at his emotions, threatening to rip his heart into shreds, and then tear it asunder!
Cultivation is the pursuit of the Heavenly Dao, and also of one’s own dao.
To seek the Dao is to question the heavens, and also to question oneself.
Those with wavering wills have no affinity with the Dao. For the sake of his cultivation, the elder had abandoned his position as Patriarch of the Tian Clan and confined himself in a small Daoist temple for decades. His determination in seeking the Dao was truly as unyielding as iron!
This was a test of mental fortitude! Tʜe source of this ᴄontent ɪs 𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙡•𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚•𝙣𝙚𝙩
"Ancestor, such techniques are useless against Wujing!"
Tian Wujing did not throw a punch, nor did he make any gesture. He simply walked calmly towards the Daoist temple.
Everything around him was irrelevant to Tian Wujing; their existence or non-existence meant nothing.
This scene was like a man striding through tumultuous waves, the surrounding maelstrom reduced to mere background and contrast.
Watching Tian Wujing draw ever closer, the elder cursed, "You monstrous son, bent on annihilating your own clan! Your heart is indeed harder than stone!"
With such a state of mind, even the most profound Daoist arts could not sway his core convictions.
Tian Wujing lifted his head.
Looking at the elder upon the eaves, he bowed once again and said, "Please, Ancestor, ascend to Heaven!"
"Then let us see if you, this traitorous son, possess such capability!"
The elder flipped his palm. The peachwood sword, which had rested upon the Daoist temple’s altar for decades, immediately flew out, pierced through the eaves, and landed in his hand.
"Today, on behalf of the ancestors of the Tian Family, this old man shall eliminate an unfilial, unrighteous, and utterly evil scourge like you!"
The elder leaped down, the peachwood sword in his hand thrusting directly at Tian Wujing.
Tian Wujing clenched his fists. A surge of qi suddenly erupted around him. Within the Daoist temple, sand flew and stones rolled; even the old, crooked-necked tree was instantly uprooted.
The elder’s peachwood sword appeared ordinary, but it had been refined by him with Daoist arts for many years and held countless mysteries. This sword possessed the power to turn the rotten into the miraculous; it could even pierce the physique of a Martial Cultivator!
The profundity of Daoist arts lay in such things, their subtleties often baffling to comprehend.
The elder knew full well that this grandson of his walked the path of a Martial Cultivator and possessed an exceptionally resolute will. Daoist arts targeting the mind were already useless against him. His only recourse was to use skill to overcome brute force, aiming to first shatter his martial foundation.
However, the elder’s form was constantly impeded by this surging wave of qi. The tip of his sword remained more than ten feet from Tian Wujing’s brow, and no matter how the elder urged it on, it could not advance another inch!