When Liora's eyes fluttered open, she found Darian seated quietly beside her, cultivating in tranquil silence. A flicker of joy shone in her clear gaze, but as if recalling something urgent, her delicate brows drew together in a faint crease.
Feeling the warmth of the morning sunlight, Darian's body trembled slightly as the Saintly Battle Qi he had nurtured all night began to ebb. His tightly shut eyes opened to meet Liora's steady, serene stare. She returned his gaze with a gentle, heartfelt smile.
Relief brightened Darian's features as he quickly rose to his feet and asked, concern softening his voice, "Liora, you're awake. How do you feel?"
Her eyes swept to his right hand, where healing salve still glistened. Immediately, understanding bloomed within her — this young man, as close as a brother, had likely saved her life once more.
A trace of reluctant hesitation flickered across her soft face. Sitting up, she beamed warmly at him. "Brother Darian, if it hadn't been for you last night, I would have long since turned to ash. This is the second time you've saved me."
Her crisp voice carried sincere gratitude and a depth of affection that stirred something in Darian's heart.
Feigning annoyance, he retorted, "Liora, if you keep treating your Brother Darian so formally, I might just leave."
"All right, I know I was wrong," she said with a playful smile.
Over the past ten years, a bond as strong as blood had grown between them. In the vast Valeblue family, only Theron and Liora held such a place in Darian's heart — the former a revered elder, the latter a cherished sister.
"Since you're feeling better, I'm relieved. Rest well. I'll come back later to see you."
After watching over her through the night, Darian gently stroked her silky hair and turned to leave. He knew Liora held secrets — last night's events had revealed much, but that mattered little.
To Darian, she was family. If she chose silence, he would not press her. Only her safety was important.
But as he reached the doorway, Liora's soft voice stopped him.
"Brother Darian… I'm leaving."
The unexpected words hung heavily in the air. Darian paused mid-step, sorrow briefly flickering in his eyes. He had long suspected this day might come; still, he had not expected it so soon.
"Brother Darian, like you, I was only fostered by the Valeblue family. Ten years have passed in the blink of an eye. These years have been peaceful and happy. The Valeblue family may be small, but it offers a tranquility I have found nowhere else. Here, I feared nothing, and sadness did not touch me. And you, Brother Darian… you have always stood by me, giving me a warmth I thought I'd never know, teaching me that there are things in this world truly worth cherishing. I will never forget it…"
Her clear eyes shimmered with tears unshed. There was no grief — only deep, reluctant acceptance.
Darian stepped forward, drawing her gently into an embrace. Stroking her hair, his voice was steady though quiet. "Silly Liora, it's not as if we will never meet again. Leaving the Valeblue family doesn't mean we must part forever. Look, I'm about to leave myself, to enter the Hundred Cities War. At least you're saying goodbye first. If I were the one leaving, wouldn't you cry a little?"
She chuckled softly, leaning against his shoulder and tapping him playfully. "You're terrible! Always teasing me…"
His teasing seemed to ease the weight in her heart. Gazing at his calm, handsome face, her voice softened. "Brother Darian, promise me you will come find me someday, okay?"
Her words carried the fragile hope and uncertainty of one facing the unknown. Having grown up without parents and separated early from Steward Felric, Liora had been the closest thing Darian had to family.
Now, standing at their parting, his reluctance matched hers.
"Of course. No matter how far the road, your Brother Darian will find you. That is my promise."
He nodded with firm resolve.
Her tears gave way to a smile, and she nodded solemnly in return. Their warm smiles lingered — a fragile bridge between parting and hope.
"As long as farewells come, can one ever truly escape them, Riven?"
Darian walked away from Liora's small loft along the winding stone path. The breeze carried the faintest whisper of sorrow, brushing gently against his cheek.
"Heh… every feast must end. Even blood kin must part one day. But do not worry — this girl is of the Phoenix-Luan Celestial Maiden lineage. From what I saw last night, merging with her True Spirit like that, she must hold great status among them. Why the Phoenix-Luan sect would foster such a disciple in a small place like the Valeblue family, I cannot say, but her future is bright."
"Phoenix-Luan Celestial Maiden? Sounds impressive. What exactly is it?"
Darian wasn't surprised Riven knew. Though Riven had lost many memories of his true self, he retained fragments of knowledge, such as identifying pills and secret lineages.
"The Phoenix-Luan Celestial Maiden is not a single person but an ancient, prestigious sect — exclusively women, each extraordinarily strong. Even among the great powers, their name commands respect."
"Their techniques come from the innate True Spirits they are born with. Every year, the sect searches far and wide for infant girls bearing True Spirits and brings them into their fold. This girl is surely one of their chosen. But be warned — they are eccentric, proud, and difficult to get along with."
"Quite the unusual power indeed."
Riven's words both amazed and reassured Darian. Liora would not suffer once she returned to her sect.
"In any case, keep striving. If not for those ten silent years spent refining the Origin of the Holy War Law, your achievements would rival Jaren's by now. But everything has its cause and effect — those years will bring you unimaginable fortune. This world is vast, Darian. If you grow stronger still, you will one day glimpse the boundless wonders it holds."
Darian took Riven's words as a veiled encouragement. Smiling faintly, he set aside his thoughts and quickened his pace toward Theron's residence.
"Uncle Theron, Darian requests an audience."
Standing outside the door, he called respectfully.
"You brat! Why stand outside when you're here? Come in!"
The hearty voice inside eased Darian's mind — Theron's injuries were no longer serious.
Entering, Darian found him seated, face ruddy and relaxed as if freshly finished cultivating. The elder smiled warmly.
"Uncle Theron, are you well?"
"Fine as ever. Jaren didn't go for the kill, just left a scratch. A few days' rest and I'll be as good as new."
He waved off Darian's concern.
At the mention of Jaren, a fierce killing intent flared in Darian's eyes — too blatant for Theron to miss.
Remembering the pact forged just yesterday, Theron sighed inwardly.
"Uncle Theron, don't worry. Four years from now, I will defeat Jaren and avenge you!"
His voice was resolute, his determination clear.
Seeing the heavy burden the young man bore alone moved Theron deeply. Yet he could not help but feel hope — Darian was no longer a boy. He had risen again. Who could say he wouldn't triumph in four years?
"Darian, you have questions, don't you?"
The elder smiled knowingly.
"Yes. First, I came to say farewell. Since I've agreed to represent Drakeflare City in the Hundred Cities War, I don't know when I will return."
"Haha! Lord Qi choosing you as Drakeflare's champion means he sees your strength and promise. It's an honor for the Valeblue family as well. Go without worry!"
Pride filled Theron's smile.
Darian drew a steadying breath, his eyes sharp. "Second… I want to ask about Steward Felric."
Theron's gaze grew distant, heavy with nostalgia.
"Darian, I knew this day would come. Very well, now you are ready to hear about the man who was your Steward Felric."
Darian's pulse quickened as he listened intently.
"Eleven years ago, I saw several cultivators hanging around outside Drakeflare City, preying on travelers — killing and robbing. I decided to intervene, but I was caught in their trap."
"They weren't as strong individually, but together, they overwhelmed me. Death was certain — until he appeared!"
A flash of awe and respect lit Theron's eyes.
"I will never forget how he dispatched three masters, each at the fifth stage of the Mortalveil Realm, with a mere flick of his finger. They turned to ash, scattered by the wind."
His voice trembled as the memory returned, the terror of Steward Felric's power still vivid.
Darian shared the shock. Steward Felric truly was a formidable cultivator.
"That man was middle-aged, but his aura was vast as the sea. And on his back, he carried a sleeping boy."
Theron looked meaningfully at Darian — it was clear who the boy was.
"But he coughed often, and I noticed dark red stains on his sleeve. I am no healer, yet it was clear he carried wounds hidden deep within — injuries that had plagued him for years."
At these words, Darian's heart jolted sharply.