Gu Qinghe fell silent.
He was fully aware that his recent actions were nothing like the Gu Qinghe known to the clan.
Too many decisions. Too much initiative. Too many things that should never have come from a child long branded as weak and useless.
But he had no choice.
If he continued clinging to the old image of Gu Qinghe, he would remain shackled to a past that was never truly his.
Change was inevitable.
Differences in attitude, in thought patterns, even in how he viewed the world—none of it could be hidden forever.
Gu Qinghe raised his head and looked calmly at Wang Yunxi.
"Whatever the differences may be," he said softly but clearly, "I'm still your son."
The words were simple.
They carried no attempt at persuasion, no effort at justification.
Yet precisely because of that, their weight felt heavy.
"That's what matters most," Gu Qinghe added.
Wang Yunxi stared at him for a long moment, her eyes narrowing slightly, her expression serious—as if she were trying to see through the unfamiliar outer layer he now wore.
"You're right," Wang Yunxi said at last.
She lay back down, allowing her body to rest for the night.
Gu Qinghe said nothing more. He lowered his head briefly in farewell and stepped out of the room.
His destination was not Xiao Mei's wooden house.
He returned to his own room.
The moment the door closed, Gu Qinghe's steps faltered. A crushing tightness suddenly seized his chest. His breathing turned ragged, his body weakening as if all strength had drained away in an instant.
He raised a hand and pressed it against his forehead.
Hot.
Not ordinary heat.
Gu Qinghe immediately understood the cause. The remnants of the Muyan Demon Flame had not been completely expended. Traces of its aggressive residue remained inside his body, slipping into his meridians during pill refinement.
That demon flame had not fully submitted.
If left unchecked, his meridians would be destroyed from the inside.
Gu Qinghe sat down on the small altar in his room, crossed his legs, and entered cultivation at once.
Qi spread throughout his body, flowing like water as it washed through each meridian pathway.
The demon flame resisted.
Not overwhelmingly—but stubbornly.
Gu Qinghe exerted full control. His qi pressed down, refined, and eroded the remnants slowly but steadily.
It didn't take long.
One by one, the traces of the Muyan Demon Flame dissipated, breaking down into neutral energy before vanishing completely.
Meridians cleansed.
Strength restored.
The suffocating pressure faded.
Gu Qinghe slowly opened his eyes.
I didn't expect that demon flame to dare strike back.
He let out a long breath.
Refining pills again anytime soon is too risky. I need another approach.
That night, Gu Qinghe did not leave his room. He devoted himself entirely to cultivation. No one disturbed him. The clan mansion sank into silence.
But deep into the night, a sudden burning sensation flared in both of his eyes.
The feeling was sharp—like flames igniting directly inside his eye sockets. His head felt heavy, as if pressed down by something unseen.
What… is happening?
Gu Qinghe forcibly halted his cultivation and opened his eyes. His vision wavered.
His reflection in the bronze mirror revealed a clear change. His pupils looked different—deeper, clearer, as if they reflected the laws of the world itself.
A panel appeared before him.
[Primordial Soul has undergone optimization]
[Heavenly Path Insight Technique unlocked]
[Level: Immortal]
[Desc: Reveals the most stable and efficient path of action based on the current laws of the world.]
"Heavenly Path Insight…?"
Gu Qinghe froze.
The name was unmistakably familiar.
He frowned, forcing his memories to trace backward. Not Gu Qinghe's past—but his own true past. Slowly, fragments of memory began to piece themselves together.
The panel remained before him, yet Gu Qinghe did not react immediately.
He knew one thing for certain—this world did not have cheat systems like those often described in transmigrator stories.
If such a thing existed, Yun Tian should have obtained it long ago.
But reality said otherwise.
He had wagered his life on every step toward the Dao, without any external aid. Every technique he mastered was born of blood, wounds, and extreme decisions.
After a while, the memories finally became clear.
"Blood River Realm…" he murmured.
He had obtained it after assisting a major sect there—an Immortal-level technique he had learned in full, then implanted directly into his primordial soul along with all related comprehension and experience.
"But why did this technique carry over into the past?" he wondered. "What makes it different from the others?"
Gu Qinghe steadied himself. He raised both hands and instinctively activated the technique.
[Heavenly Path Insight Technique]
[Target: Gu Qinghe]
[Core Vital: Fatigued]
[Soul Stability: Perfect]
[Cultivation Efficiency: 78%]
[Technique Accuracy Rate: 98%]
[Summary: The body is experiencing physical fatigue, cultivation efficiency is not optimal, and the soul is in a highly stable state.]
"Interesting…"
When directed at himself, the technique displayed his physical and spiritual condition as clear data.
No bias. No emotion.
Gu Qinghe narrowed his eyes.
What if it were used on Xiao Mei—or Wang Yunxi?
Could this technique help him reach more accurate conclusions? Detect problems, potential, even the optimal course of action?
The possibility was extremely high.
Gu Qinghe did not hesitate.
Even though his understanding of cultivation far surpassed that of anyone in this world, if there was a technique that could further improve efficiency, he would use it without question.
The heat in his eyes gradually faded. His vision returned to normal.
But he knew—the technique was real, and its accuracy was nearly perfect.
"Lord Gu Zhen has arrived."
The announcement echoed throughout the Gu Clan Mansion.
Gu Qinghe, who had been cultivating, immediately opened his eyes. He halted the process and stepped out of his room.
Outside, the atmosphere of the mansion changed dramatically. Servants and guards hurried toward the front courtyard.
Wang Yunxi emerged from her room, accompanied by her personal maid. Gu Yanxue descended the stairs from the second floor. When she reached the first floor, she smiled broadly upon seeing Gu Qinghe.
That smile made Gu Qinghe wary. Gu Yanxue rarely showed such an expression toward him.
In the main hall, members of the Gu family stood in their respective positions. Wang Yunxi stood beside Gu Zhen's throne-like seat.
"Lord Gu Zhen enters the clan hall!"
The massive doors swung open.
A broad-shouldered man stepped inside along the red carpet. The golden robes of the Gu clan fit neatly against his body. Each step he took carried a heavy, oppressive aura.
"Welcome, Clan Head Gu," everyone greeted in unison.
This was the first time Gu Qinghe had seen Gu Zhen.
That aura… belonged only to a Nascent Soul cultivator.
Gu Zhen was about to sit when his gaze landed on Wang Yunxi. He froze, his expression shifting.
"Yunxi?" he said in surprise. "How are you feeling?"
"Much better," Wang Yunxi replied gently.
Gu Zhen stepped closer and took her hand.
"Tell me," he said seriously, "who healed you?"
Wang Yunxi glanced toward Gu Qinghe.
But before she could speak, Gu Qinghe shook his head slightly. He had no desire for recognition.
To him, helping his mother was a duty. He did not need acknowledgment from the man who had abandoned him.
"He has already left," Wang Yunxi said at last. "He's in closed-door cultivation."
Gu Zhen frowned.
"Left?" he repeated. "Name. Clan. Sect. I will reward him. Whatever it takes."
The tone was firm—not a request, but a declaration of authority.
Wang Yunxi shook her head.
"You'll find out in time."
The answer was vague, but sufficient.
Gu Zhen did not press further. Seeing Wang Yunxi's condition improved was enough for him.
He turned and took his seat.
The meeting began.
Various reports were delivered, but Gu Zhen's focus soon settled on one matter—the ritual to summon the Sacred Envoy.
"Yanxue," he called.
Gu Yanxue stepped forward and bowed. "The Gu clan successfully recruited one Sacred Envoy."
"Only one?" Gu Zhen asked flatly.
"That was at the request of Younger Brother Gu Qinghe," Gu Yanxue continued.
The air in the hall shifted.
Gu Zhen slowly turned his head. His gaze fell upon Gu Qinghe.
Cold. Emotionless.
Not the look of a father—but of a leader assessing a subordinate.
"Who did you recruit?" Gu Zhen asked.
Gu Qinghe felt a thin thread of pressure directed at him.
He moved neither hurriedly nor hesitantly. He lifted his head, maintaining the expression he had always worn—weak, relaxed, unambitious.
"A woman," Gu Qinghe replied lightly. "A cultivator."
"A woman?" Gu Zhen narrowed his eyes. "On what basis?"
Gu Qinghe smiled faintly.
"Elder Sister Gu Yanxue recommended her," he said without hesitation. "Besides, I heard female cultivators are more enjoyable than ordinary mortal women."
Gu Yanxue sucked in a sharp breath. She turned toward Gu Qinghe, her gaze sharp—caught between shock and disbelief.
Gu Zhen stared at Gu Qinghe for a long moment. Then he snorted.
"You haven't changed while I was away," he said coldly. "Still the same."
He rose slightly from his throne, his aura pressure increasing.
"Among my children," he continued, "you are the most useless."
The words fell heavily.
Several clan members lowered their heads further. No one dared meet Gu Zhen's gaze. Gu Qinghe bowed his head and clasped his hands.
"I apologize for failing to meet your expectations, Father."
"The Sacred Envoy is far too important to the Song Kingdom," Gu Zhen went on. "I cannot allow you to handle this."
"From now on, Gu Yanxue will take full responsibility."
Gu Yanxue paused briefly, then bowed. "Gu Yanxue will comply."
Her gaze briefly met Gu Qinghe's—sharp, layered with meaning. Gu Qinghe remained calm.
"Qinghe," Gu Zhen called.
"Gu Qinghe is here," he answered.
"Pack your belongings," Gu Zhen said emotionlessly. "You will train at a sect."
The hall erupted.
Several elders exchanged glances. This was neither punishment nor reward.
Sending Gu Qinghe to a sect meant pushing him away from the clan's center of power—or casting him into a life-and-death arena.
Gu Qinghe fell silent.
Then he smiled.
The smile was wide, bold, and completely at odds with the usual image of Gu Qinghe.
He raised his head and looked directly at Gu Zhen. For a brief moment, father and son locked eyes.
"If I must leave," he said slowly, his voice clear in the silent hall, "I want to choose where I go."
Gu Zhen narrowed his eyes. "Since when do you care?"
Gu Qinghe clenched his fist briefly, then relaxed it. He glanced at Wang Yunxi. His mother's face was pale, her eyes filled with unspoken worry.
Gu Qinghe looked back at Gu Zhen. His gaze was steady—neither defiant nor pleading.
"Yin-Yang Sect."
Two words fell like stones into still water.
The ripples had yet to surface.
But the storm… had already begun.