Chapter Thirty-Seven: Restoring Glory

“What do you mean, don’t?”

The voice from the dream lingered by Xiao Feng’s ear, rousing the unconscious Xu Xing.

Xu Xing awoke in a haze, his heart deeply shaken. The recent experience had felt so real, the images still vivid before his eyes.

“Sister Ziyan, what’s wrong?”

Turning his head, Xu Xing, his body battered and bruised, gazed out the window. Beyond the gauzy screen, birds flocked to their nests as dusk fell; fiery clouds painted the sky in layers of vivid color.

“Why has night fallen again? Sister, how long have I been unconscious?”

Sensing something amiss, Xu Xing asked softly.

Ziyan was sitting on Xu Xing’s straw bed, holding a bowl of steaming soup. She set it down beside the bed, rose in silence, and walked to the window, staring out at the blue sky.

“You’ve slept for two days. Tomorrow is the Freshman Assembly. You’ve been unconscious all this while. I thought, with your talent, I could teach you something, but it seems time has run out. Let tomorrow’s assembly be what it will.”

“This time, I can no longer count on you. It was foolish of me to think I could gain the Divine Origin Secret Art through you. I really overestimated myself.”

She finished, disappointment clouding her features. She stepped out, gently closed the door, and left.

Xu Xing lay on the bed, lost in confusion. He took a set of old clothes from his spatial pouch, dressed, and drank the soup Ziyan had brought.

Her departure left Xu Xing feeling deeply disappointed; he had truly let her down.

Yet he was bewildered—he felt as if only moments had passed, but two days were already gone.

In the blink of an eye, it would be the Freshman Assembly, and he had learned nothing yet. How could he help Ziyan seize the Divine Origin Secret Art?

Wouldn’t that mean breaking his promise to Senior Sister Zhou Lingya? How could he allow that?

But now, he was utterly at a loss.

Thinking back, he remembered how Sister Ziyan had muttered about some great disaster after entering the room. His curiosity was piqued.

What had he done to cause such trouble? Was he really on the brink of disaster?

And those visions—what were they? Were they mere illusions?

Everything was shrouded in mystery.

After finishing the soup, still hungry, Xu Xing stared at the resplendent clouds, mesmerized.

Only when dusk deepened did he rise and step outside.

Ziyan lay on a rocking chair in the courtyard, eyes closed, her breath calm as if she were sleeping—a serene beauty.

The courtyard was tranquil.

Xu Xing crept to Ziyan’s side and quietly lay down on the neighboring rocking chair. Turning his head, he couldn’t help admiring her figure.

Her slender jade legs, crossed together, seemed to grip his heart. The violet skirt draped over her, accentuating her graceful curves; in the afterglow of sunset, she radiated sacred elegance.

Beneath the persimmon tree, young saplings thrived.

Reluctant to disturb this picturesque scene, Xu Xing decided to simply lie there and watch in silence.

A brisk autumn wind sent shivers through Xiao Feng.

The rocking chair creaked incessantly in the courtyard, growing louder as the wind picked up.

Suddenly, a gust knocked Xu Xing to the ground. He landed in silence, not daring to utter a word.

At that moment, Ziyan awoke in her rocking chair. She stretched out her arms and legs with a contented sigh.

Turning, she saw Xu Xing sprawled on the ground and frowned in confusion.

“What are you doing, Junior Brother?”

Awkwardly, Xu Xing climbed back onto the rocking chair. Eyeing Ziyan’s fishnet stockings, he swallowed and grinned foolishly.

“Nothing, I just wanted to keep you company. You seemed down. Is something bothering you? And you mentioned I caused some great trouble—what exactly happened?”

The wind rocked the chair, and Ziyan shook her head, sighing in disappointment.

“It’s all because of you and that Li Chunyi. He truly is despicable…”

Xu Xing’s heart lurched—there was clearly more to Li Chunyi than met the eye.

Li Chunyi had once framed the Xu family, yet had emerged unscathed. Surely the Li family had helped him in secret.

Though they had publicly severed ties, it could not be that simple. Why else would he repeatedly make trouble for Xu Xing? Wasn’t it the hidden hand of his family?

“Is Li Chunyi actually backed by the Li family?” Xu Xing asked, testing the waters.

“No, it’s not that simple. The Li family isn’t nearly that capable. There’s someone else behind the scenes. I learned through secret inquiries that he’s one of the coordinators this time, and rumor has it the one supporting him is connected to the leaders of the Three Great Sects.”

Ziyan’s words sounded thin and uncertain.

The Three Great Sects: Zhuoding Sect, Beihai Sect, and the most enigmatic, Nanshan Sect.

So it was indeed Li Chunyi. But why did he keep meddling in Xu Xing’s affairs?

“And what of the bloodline of the Condemned? Since you say I have such blood, am I truly guilty?”

Xu Xing’s eyes were resolute. No matter what his ancestors had done, even if it was wrong, he felt duty-bound to restore their honor.

After some hesitation, Ziyan smiled wistfully.

“Long ago, according to stories passed down by our ancestors, the bloodline of the Condemned was a beacon for all of Haicheng. Because of the tyrannical rule of the Shu sovereign, someone rose to resist, but was suppressed. Haicheng was struck by a master’s palm and torn from the mainland, becoming the City of the Condemned.”

As she spoke, her breath quickened, and she glanced around anxiously.

Xu Xing was at a loss for words—there was clearly some hidden truth here.

His ancestors must have had their reasons. Otherwise, why would Haicheng have been severed and the mark of the Condemned etched into his bloodline?

There had to be an earth-shattering secret behind it all.

“Even so, the Shu Empire relentlessly oppresses Haicheng, but the six great families here have always secretly supported the blood of the Condemned. If the Shu Empire ever learned there were still remnants of the Condemned in Haicheng, they would stop at nothing to eliminate them. You must restrain your bloodline from awakening.”

“And the cultivation methods we use here are all gifts from the Condemned. Seeing our lack of talent, they taught us to fuse with mythic weapons. Each such weapon embodies not only ancestral power, but the path they once walked!”

What? Mythic weapons represent a complete path? Xu Xing was stunned to his core.

Ziyan stood from the rocking chair, resting her delicate hand on Xu Xing’s chair. The two were so close he could almost hear her heartbeat.

“And my ancestor was once saved by the Condemned. That’s why I’m forever grateful to you…”

As she spoke, Xu Xing gazed at the evening glow, his heart heavy.

Even the common folk so revered his ancestors. Was it truly his forebears who were guilty, or the imperial family of Shu?

But now, with his own strength as feeble as a feather lost at sea, how could he hope to turn the tide for his ancestors? The only path forward was to become stronger.

The first step was to shine at the Freshman Assembly and claim more resources for cultivation.

But what, then, was the true power of this bloodline Ziyan spoke of?

“Sister Ziyan, what can this bloodline do? Is it truly powerful?”

“That night, under the moon, you ascended, sword in hand, and with only perfected Qi training, you defeated a dwarf. That was your bloodline’s power at its peak—your blood awakened your potential!”

Xu Xing lay on the rocking chair, dazed as rotting wood. Perhaps because of the humidity, he found himself with a nosebleed.

“My potential is still untapped! I will restore my ancestors’ honor!”

With that, Xu Xing stood, trembling hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

Drawing it, he pointed the blade skyward and cried,

“I cast away my youth in darkness, but now, as the scion of the Condemned, I have returned!”

His sword cleaved the sky, and the heavens trembled. The fiery clouds on the horizon parted.

Watching Xu Xing’s towering figure, Ziyan smiled. In that instant, it was as if their very blood was set aflame.

“Let tomorrow’s Freshman Assembly be the forge to restore our ancestral glory! Let the blood of our foes flow and the spirits of our ancestors weep!”