CHAPTER 46
THE END OF AN ARC: SENTIMENTS.
Yan Rouxi's Internal Monologue
Yan Youmei—this body—moved with ease through the familiar corridors of the Yan Clan palace. Every stone, every turn, every breath of incense carried memories that were not mine… yet now belonged to me all the same.
This flesh was old, but refined. Tempered by decades of cultivation and bloodshed. It responded beautifully.
Far better than my original shell, I mused.
I arrived at the doors of Yan Zhen's room and with a few light knock, he let me in, not bothering to know the identity behind the door.
"Sigh... As naive and innocent like his father. I wonder if this is a blessing or a curse." I wondered.
The boy watched me with lowered eyes.
Good.
Yan Zhen stood before me, shoulders slightly hunched, grief still clinging to him like damp cloth. His aura was unsteady, fractured in places — exactly as expected after the demise of his beloved grandmother. Now I feel bad that I can't tell you am still fine, I just have a new body.
I watched his breathing carefully as he spoke of my "sacrifice," of my "death." His voice trembled. His eyes glistened. His sorrow tasted… genuine.
Ah!
So the boy truly believed I had died for him.
That eased something tight within my chest. My genuine efforts all this years hasn't been for nothing.
"You must not waste her sacrifice," I told him, watching closely for the smallest tremor in his soul.
There was none.
Only grief.
Only loyalty.
Only pain.
Good.
Very good.
Yan Zhen was no ordinary child.
Even before today, his soul had been… unusual. Dense. Sharp. Resistant. When Kuang Luosheng had attempted to probe it earlier, the Soul Stealer had paused — just for a fraction of a breath.
That hesitation had not gone unnoticed.
A soul that resists foreign intrusion, I thought calmly, is either empty… or dangerous.
Yan Zhen was not empty.
Which meant it is dangerous and required observation.
Not suspicion.
Suspicion was for enemies.
Yan Zhen was an asset.
Perhaps even more than that.
I left his chamber only after sealing several invisible formations behind me — threads of soul-sense no one in the clan could detect. They would alert me to the presence of any intruder or spiritual deviation.
As I walked, memories surfaced unbidden — Yan Rouxi's memories.
The original owner of this body had been formidable, cruel, and brilliant. She had loved power, feared decline, and worshipped legacy.
Her greatest pride had been Yan Zhen, too bad she never got to know he was the very son of my daughter she had plotted against.
Her greatest terror had been dying forgotten.
In a way, I had granted her wish.
She would live on.
Forever.
I felt no guilt.
Guilt was a luxury for weak souls.
Back within my private chamber, I dismissed the attendants and activated the isolation array. The moment it sealed, my posture shifted. The softness drained from my eyes. The grandmotherly warmth evaporated like mist beneath the sun.
I sat.
Closed my eyes.
And listened.
Souls whispered to me from deep within — fragments left behind by Kuang Luosheng's ritual. Echoes of Yan Youmei's screams still clung faintly to this body.
Annoying.
"She lacked discipline," I murmured. "And vision."
Yan Youmei had been powerful, yes — but reckless. Emotion-driven. Too visible. She would have attracted disaster eventually.
I had merely… redirected that disaster.
The Yan Clan could not afford sentimental leadership anymore.
However whether Yan Zhen knew it or not.
The boy carried something dormant — a resonance I had felt only once before, long ago.
A seed or power that had protected both him and his younger brother's life back then.
If nurtured correctly, he could become a blade sharp enough to wound even divinity.
If mishandled…
No he mustn't!
I opened my eyes, gaze steady and resolute.
"For now," I whispered, "you may dream peacefully, my dear grandson."
A smile curved my lips.
Outside, thunder rolled once more as the rain intensified.
The heavens, it seemed, were restless.