Just as Zhao Chengle was anxious and uneasy, the atmosphere inside the room was not as sorrowful as one might imagine.
Seated by the bed, Zhao Sheng held his wife Wang Yuqi's hand, tenderly recounting every little detail of their seventy years together since marriage.
Wang Yuqi was emaciated, her face covered with unsightly age spots.
At that moment, she had fallen into a coma and couldn't hear a word her husband was saying.
Yet Zhao Sheng seemed without a trace of sadness, continuing to narrate calmly and unhurriedly.
After an indeterminate length of time, Wang Yuqi's hand twitched slightly, her eyelids quivered a few times and then slowly, clouded with cataracts, her eyes opened.
Her gaze was dull, her eyes aimlessly wandering, somewhat panicky.
But upon feeling her husband's dry, withered hand, Wang Yuqi quickly relaxed, a contented smile appearing on her face.
"Brother Zhi Qin, I'm finally dying before you. How wonderful!" she murmured in a feeble and low voice, almost inaudible.
"Yes! Now it will just be me, living alone," Zhao Sheng said gently, leaning close to her ear. "I know how much you dread being lonely."
"Brother Zhi Qin, you've always understood me best. Do you remember how we first met?"
Zhao Sheng adjusted the blankets for his wife and chuckled lightly, "How could I forget? It was perfume that lured you and Sister Yu Yan to me. To attract your attention, I even played a piece on the guqin, 'High Mountain Flowing Water' particularly for you."
"Cough cough, I knew you had ill intentions. I was young and naive back then, easily tricked into your hands."
"Do you regret it?"
"No regrets! Never any regrets!"
After she spoke, Wang Yuqi's complexion suddenly turned radiantly rosy, her voice becoming clear again.
Zhao Sheng's spirit tensed, and he couldn't help but tightly grasp his wife's hand.
He knew it was a sign of "returning light before death."
Suddenly turning her face to Zhao Sheng, Wang Yuqi gazed at him with an intense yearning, "Brother Zhi Qin, I want to hear you say it once more, the love poem you gave me back then."
At that moment, tears surged in Zhao Sheng's eyes, his voice trembling slightly as he gently recited, "Wisps of cloud skillfully crafted, shooting stars carry my wistful thoughts, the Milky Way silently stretches far and wide. Once the Golden Wind meets the Jade Dew, they surpass countless scenes in this mortal world..."
When Zhao Sheng finished reciting the love poem, Wang Yuqi seemed to have fulfilled her final wish, her complexion rapidly turning ashen, her breath nearly stilled, leaving only the faintest trace of consciousness, "Brother Zhi Qin, I suddenly miss home, my grandpa, grandma, daddy, mommy, and Sister Yu Yan. I want... want to go back—"
Before she could finish saying the word "home," she limply released the hand of her husband, and from that moment ceased to breathe.
Seeing his companion depart from this world, Zhao Sheng's eyes instantly blurred with tears.
In that moment, his tears flowed freely.
When Zhao Sheng stepped outside the house, the Zhao Mansion was soon filled with the sounds of sobbing.
A month later, under the watchful eyes of his son Zhao Chengle, his grandson Zhao Xuanhan, and others, Zhao Sheng held his wife's urn as he boarded a horse-drawn carriage.
Then, driven by a coachman of the Innate Realm, the carriage slowly set off, beginning its journey to Ganzhou in the Liang Kingdom, over four thousand miles away.
...
As winter gave way to spring, in the warm light of March, the peach blossoms in Nanyang City bloomed overnight.
The fragrance of flowers filled the air, petals dancing and swirling.
On the day when the citizens of Nanyang celebrated the Peach Blossom Festival, a dilapidated carriage stopped in front of an old mansion.
No sooner had Zhao Sheng alighted from the carriage than seven or eight men armed with knives and swords suddenly surrounded him, shouting loudly, "No matter where you're from, leave at once! The Zhao family is not receiving visitors today!"
"How dare you!"
The coachman Zhao Er had been personally taught by Zhao Sheng and revered Grandmaster Zhao like a deity.
Seeing this scene, he bravely stepped forward and bellowed, with the Innate True Qi in his voice suddenly erupting.
The seven or eight men instantly had their eardrums and cochleas shattered and collapsed to the ground.
"Ouch, why can't I get up!"
"Ah, I can't hear anything!"
Their screams were continuous as they completely lost their balance. No matter how they struggled, they couldn't stand up.
At this moment, the expressions of the two middle-aged men in red guarding the entrance of Zhao Mansion changed drastically.
Unlike the riffraff common in the Martial World, being from the Blood Saber Sect, they immediately recognized the footwork of the seemingly ordinary coachman.
This man was an Innate Grandmaster, a rarity in Ganzhou and someone of the same caliber as the Blood Saber Ancestor.
Realizing the situation was bad, the two disciples of the Blood Saber Sect attempted to run into the Zhao Mansion.
Who would have thought that at this moment, an elderly figure with white hair and a missing arm would suddenly appear between them?
What followed was a tremendous oppressive force, heavy like a mountain, instantly subduing the two men, rendering them motionless as if they were insects encased in amber.
Thankfully, though the terrifying pressure arrived quickly, it also dissipated just as fast.
Soon, both men regained their freedom, but neither dared to move, let alone report back to the Blood Saber Ancestor.
"I ask you, what has happened to the Zhao family? And who are you?" Zhao Sheng, having withdrawn his Innate pressure, asked the two men.
Without daring any concealment, they quickly confessed, "We are disciples of the Blood Saber Sect. But we mean no harm. It's the Blood Saber Ancestor himself who wished to take the third young master of the Zhao family as a disciple, and that's why he personally came to Zhao Mansion. We are merely standing guard outside to prevent disturbances."
"Recruit a disciple?"
Zhao Sheng frowned and thought, "If he really wanted to take on a disciple, would he create such a commotion?"
At that moment, the coachman Zhao Er suddenly leaned in and said, "Grandmaster Zhao, from the looks of the way they are drawing their blades, it seems like this Blood Saber Ancestor has ill intentions! Shall I dispose of this person first?"
"No need,"
After speaking, Zhao Sheng stepped into the ancestral home he hadn't returned to in fifty years.
Meanwhile, the atmosphere in the main hall of Zhao Mansion where guests were received was exceptionally tense.
The head of the hall was occupied by a ruddy old man with a drooping beard. Despite his age, his hair was still pitch black, and his face free of any wrinkles, clearly indicating his mastery of life-preserving techniques.
On the lower left and right sides of the hall, the left side was occupied by four elders of the Zhao family, while there were only two on the right.
The person sitting at the top was a tall, bald, pigeon-faced old man dressed in a bright red robe, looking formidable and ferocious.
This was none other than Elder Chang, the Blood Saber Ancestor who had dominated the Ganzhou Martial World for half a century.
Sitting below him was an old Taoist holding a horsetail whisk, with a childlike face and white hair.
Behind them stood a row of Blood Saber Sect disciples in red robes, with bulging temples that showed at a glance that each was a rare top-notch master in the Martial World.
Perhaps growing impatient, the Blood Saber Ancestor asked with a gloomy tone, "How has the Zhao family considered my proposal? When will you let the Ancestor meet my precious disciple?"
After hearing these words, the bearded old man smiled and said, "Elder Chang, it would be fortunate for our Zhao family if you took Jie'er as your disciple. However, fortune was not in our favor, as Jie'er went to visit his aunt two days ago and has yet to return. Once he's back, I will have Jie'er personally go to the Blood Saber Sect to pay his respects to you as his master, how's that?"
"Nonsense!"