The dusk sky glowed faintly over the Zhou estate. The mansion loomed vast and ancient, its black roofs like wings spread across the horizon.
Zhou Fang walked.
He could have flown. His hidden soul power was more than enough. But he would not reveal it. Not yet. His soul was his final blade, one that no one must glimpse until the moment of slaughter.
Why reveal my trump card so easily? he thought, his calm eyes reflecting a quiet abyss.
Soul power was his sharpest blade, the deepest secret hidden in his heart. To expose it here, in his family estate filled with eyes and whispers, would be no different than laying his neck upon the guillotine.
The incident from earlier had already made him realize—something far greater than the Zhou family, greater than this mortal realm itself, was watching him from the shadows. An existence so profound it could only be described as otherworldly.
"Outsiders…" Zhou Fang muttered in his heart, his steps measured and slow. "They've targeted Earth for countless years. But why? Why am I their focus? And who is the god behind them—commanding them to kill me?"
A chilling thought arose, one he had long kept buried.
"If their god is truly that powerful, why doesn't he descend himself? Why use pawns? Is it because of Emma…?" His eyes darkened, like ink sinking into water. "Emma holds the answers. Only when she arrives can I pry open the veil of truth."
Yet Emma was only half the riddle. The other half, older and heavier, was his mother.
"My father must know. He has always evaded my questions, but tonight, I will press him. Mother was not an ordinary woman. She was… an immortal. On this forsaken Earth, where cultivation is but a broken dream, how could an immortal exist? How could she be my mother?"
He clenched his fists, though his expression remained calm.
"That is why mother had no family, no past. She appeared out of nowhere. Yet father always told me she had died… Why lie? Why abandon us? An immortal cannot remain long in the mortal realm, lest its fragile balance collapse. Unless… unless she sealed her own cultivation."
But even then—why come here at all? Why meet my father?
Zhou Fang's thoughts spiraled deeper, questions interlacing like a web spun by fate itself. All of this, father must answer.
At last, he reached the towering gates of the Zhou estate. The iron bars creaked open as the gatekeepers, dressed in polished uniforms, bowed low.
"Young master," they greeted respectfully.
But the moment he passed, their voices dropped into whispers sharp as blades.
"Isn't that the Zhou family's trash?"
"He may be handsome, perhaps the most handsome in the entire family, but what use is a beautiful mask on a hollow vessel?"
"He has no inner universe. He'll never awaken as a ranker. He's doomed to remain a failure, while his sisters and father shine like stars. Tell me, does he even belong to this family at all?"
The words carried venom, yet Zhou Fang's expression did not waver. His calm steps echoed against the stone path, unaffected.
"Ridicule is the tribute the weak pay to what they cannot understand," he murmured inwardly. "Their scorn, their contempt—it is all meaningless noise. The ignorant often mock what lies beyond their reach."
He strode deeper into the mansion. Just before the main hall, a shrill yet sweet cry reached his ears.
"Brother!"
A figure dashed toward him, light-footed and radiant. Before he could react, she leaped into his arms.
"This is my second sister, Zhou Lian," Zhou Fang thought, his cold eyes softening ever so slightly. "In this entire family, she alone shows me warmth. She alone defends me, loves me, and stands by me."
His mind, however, was still sharp, still detached. Affection is a double-edged sword. But even I cannot deny this bond.
Unlike Zhou Lian, the eldest daughter—Zhou May—despised him. She blamed him for their mother's death, a truth only their father knew to be false. Zhou Fang had long ceased caring for her opinions.
Zhou Lian pulled back, her eyes bright. "Happy birthday, brother! I thought you wouldn't come, so I was planning to visit your dormitory. But father said you'd arrive, so I've been waiting all this time. Tonight, father is hosting a banquet for you!"
Zhou Fang's voice was calm but firm. "Where is father? I need to speak with him. It's urgent."
Zhou Lian hesitated. "He's in the main hall. But brother, I also have something important to tell you. You must listen—"
Before she could finish, Zhou Fang gently moved her aside, his figure like a shadow slipping past. "Another time, Lian. Tonight, urgency outweighs sentiment."
"Brother, it's really important!" Her voice quivered, but Zhou Fang was already walking away.
As he neared the main hall, a familiar presence stopped him. Emma.
She appeared like a whisper from the void, her gaze steady yet carrying hidden ripples.
"Zhou Fang," she called softly. "Why do you look so grave? Are you well?"
Zhou Fang's eyes narrowed, unreadable. "You came earlier than I expected. Did you finish the task you left for?"
Emma tilted her head. "I did. But I sense you're burdened with questions."
"There are things I must ask you," Zhou Fang said, voice calm yet edged with weight. "But later. First, I must see my father."
He paused, his gaze sharp as a blade. "One thing, though. Do you know of the soul fragment within my pendant? And do you know… who she is?"
Emma's lips pressed into a thin line. After a moment, she answered, "Yes, I know a soul projection resides there. But I do not know her identity."
Zhou Fang's piercing stare did not falter. "Your reaction betrays you. You know more than you admit."
Emma lowered her gaze, her silence an admission in itself. At last, she whispered, "Very well… I do know. But not all truths are meant to be spoken now."
Zhou Fang's expression remained placid, though a storm raged within his eyes. "Then seal your words. Tonight, father first. You and I will speak later."
Emma nodded slowly, yet a strange glimmer flickered in her eyes—like a secret too dangerous to reveal.
Together, they walked toward the grand hall, where truths older than their bloodline awaited.
Zhou Fang's thoughts burned, ruthless and clear:
"The world calls me trash. They mock me as weak. Their words fall like rain, but rain cannot drown stone. I do not live for their measure. I do not walk their paths.
Strength is not what others declare. It is what I seize.
And when the day comes, their laughter will not matter. Their bones will."