Dead Men Tell No Tales

Ling Wei, noticing his daughter's sorrow, tried to console her. But Ling Hua's rage was not something that could be soothed with a few comforting words.

"Xiao Hua, life is shorter than you think. You must cherish every moment."

"Your brother always loved you. That will never change. You must honor his wishes."

"Hua, our clan is like an ancient tree, standing tall only because of the blood of geniuses like your brother. When you reach the Northern Plains, you must devote yourself to cultivation with all your heart. Don't let your anger destroy you. Revenge… is a dish best served cold."

But none of his words could thaw the ice in Ling Hua's heart.

There were still a few days left before they arrived at Feng Ming City. Soon, the patriarch of the Feng Sect would emerge from his seclusion.

Seeing that his advice was futile, Ling Wei shifted the conversation to trivial facts about the Eastern Continent.

"Xiao Hua, do you know why, despite practicing cultivation techniques, we are called a 'clan' rather than a 'sect'?"

Ling Hua shook her head.

"When I was your age, I was quite curious about this too. The reason is that we don't accept external disciples. We only teach our own family members. That's why, officially, we are not considered a sect. Interesting, isn't it?"

He paused for a moment, then continued:

"Did you know that the strongest sects are in the Central Continent? That land is filled with vast plains, deep forests, and scorching deserts. The Eastern Continent was once the most beautiful region in the world, but now… the corruption of demonic Qi has ruined most of its lands. The plants have withered, and…"

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"Demons still roam this continent. But what's even more fascinating is that there are humans living in the Demon Continent as well. After the great war, five thousand years ago, a group of humans who couldn't return remained there. And, of course, some demons were also trapped in our lands."

Ling Hua lowered her gaze. She knew that, despite his own grief, her father was trying to distract her from her pain. Taking a deep breath, she said:

"Father, thank you for trying to make me feel better. I promise you—I will follow my brother's path… and I will conquer the Feng Clan's palace!"

A bitter smile formed on Ling Wei's lips. For a moment, a memory resurfaced—Ling Yun had once said the exact same words.

"Xiao Hua… do you think I care about conquering the Feng Clan's palace?"

He shook his head and closed his eyes.

"If I could… I would sacrifice even our own clan's palace, just to have your brother alive again."

His voice softened.

"Xiao Hua, we didn't lose to the Feng Clan. Our true enemy was the one who lived under the same roof as us."

A heavy silence fell between them.

"We lost to traitors. We lost to our own pride… and now, we have lost everything."

Ling Hua wiped away her frozen tears with a faint smile. But her eyes no longer reflected the sorrow of just moments ago.

Ling Wei lifted his head and spoke firmly:

"Xiao Hua, don't forget… No matter what, you must survive. You have to tell everyone who your brother was. And you have to show them who you are!"

He paused for a moment before lowering his voice, his tone unwavering yet quiet:

"Remember… Dead men tell no tales."

Ling Hua nodded. It was as if a spark of hope had ignited within her heart.

Life was like a river.

Everyone drifted upon its waters for a time, but no one could stay afloat forever. Sooner or later, each traveler would reach the shore, vanishing among the dense trees lining the banks.

The longing for past journeys was inevitable, but that was no reason to stop moving forward.

This was the law of the world.

Everything existed in the present moment.

As long as one kept rowing, the current carried them forward. But the moment they let go of the oars and stepped onto the shore, their path would change forever.

Life was struggle. And death—the world's final gift to mankind.

The river of life never flowed backward.

Ling Yun contemplated this as he stared at the ceiling.

"The river never turns back."

The Phoenix Legacy had suddenly appeared before him, unexpected and overwhelming. He had claimed it, successfully completing his Qi Refinement realm. It was both a blessing and a curse.

Now, he had to prepare for the Patriarch of the Feng Clan's emergence from seclusion. He knew—or at least suspected—that many things would unfold at that event. He had to plan ahead.

"The fall of the Feng Clan is inevitable. I have to destroy them on their happiest day."

But there was one glaring problem…

How could he possibly face a Golden Core cultivator?

There was only one answer: Demonic techniques.

By using them, he could amplify his strength—temporarily. But the price was steep. The karmic consequences of such methods would bring inevitable misfortune in the future.

With a sigh, Ling Yun turned his head toward the window, absentmindedly studying the vibrant green leaves of the potted plant inside his room.

Suddenly, the door burst open!

A clan member, breathless and frantic, stumbled inside.

"Young Master!"

Ling Yun frowned at the girl's unusual distress.

"What's gotten into you? Why are you in such a rush?"

The girl was still gasping for breath but managed to stammer out,

"A group led by your father is approaching the city!"

Ling Yun froze. His father?

His heartbeat quickened. Forcing himself to stay calm, he asked,

"My father?"

The girl glanced around nervously before lowering her voice to a whisper:

"Sir… They're coming like a funeral procession. They think you're dead."

Ling Yun exhaled sharply, shaking his head with a sigh.

A moment later, Ling Yun stood up and said calmly,

"Lie down on the bed."

The servant trembled at the command, clutching her hands together anxiously as she stammered,

"M-My Lord… Y-Young Master…"

Ling Yun, noticing her fear, suddenly burst into laughter.

"Hahaha!!! Relax, I'm not going to hurt you. You just need to pretend I'm still in my room for a while!"

—

A few kilometers outside Feng Ming City, the Ling Clan's funeral procession stopped at an inn. They handed a letter to one of the city guards, awaiting permission to enter. In the meantime, they took the opportunity to rest—eating, bathing, and recovering from their journey.

Since their group was large, they rented out the entire inn to avoid any unnecessary trouble.

Dressed in mourning white, the members of the Ling Clan gathered in the dining hall. Ling Wei and Ling Hua also chose to eat with the others.

No one dared to disturb a grieving clan.

But then, a mysterious man stepped into the inn, his face shadowed beneath the brim of a wide hat.

The innkeeper attempted to throw him out but failed.

He was a cultivator—third-layer Qi Refinement.

The Ling Clan members, after seeing Ling Wei's indifference, chose to ignore the man. But Ling Hua couldn't stand his disrespectful behavior.

She strode toward him, standing over him as she spoke with contempt,

"Even dogs know better than to bite mourners."

Ling Wei didn't interfere. As a Foundation Establishment cultivator, he knew there was no real danger to his daughter. Besides, the other clan members were present—there was no opportunity for the stranger to harm Ling Hua.

She slammed her palm against the table, her voice sharp.

"Why aren't you answering!?"

The stranger smirked, set down his teacup, and walked out of the inn.

Ling Hua hesitated for a moment, then followed him. The rest of the Ling Clan rose and trailed behind.

—

The Inn's Courtyard…

The sky darkened.

Rain began to fall.

They stood there in silence, unmoving, saying nothing.

Ling Hua was lost in thought, trapped in a single, looping question—how could she accept that her brother was truly gone?

His own trusted servant had betrayed and killed him.

All along the journey, one thought consumed her—how was she supposed to live from now on?

After the war, they had planned to leave by ship, heading for the northern plains. But now, with her brother gone, she would have to travel alone.

A surge of emotion rose within her.

Her chest burned with anger.

Her eyes blazed with fury.

"That tea is going to cost you!"

With a short sword in hand, she lunged at the man.

But the mysterious cultivator didn't even draw his blade.

He deflected her strikes with nothing but his wooden scabbard.

His skill was astonishing.

Ling Hua, overwhelmed by emotions, had lost control. Her strikes became reckless, wasting crucial opportunities.

They fought for a while until she finally unleashed her Ice Qi—freezing raindrops midair and hurling them toward the mysterious man with the help of the wind's current.

But the man…

He flipped through the air, effortlessly weaving through every attack.

Seeing her strikes fail one after another, Ling Hua's frustration overflowed.

She dropped to her knees.

The rain concealed her tears.

"Brother!!!"

Her voice, filled with anguish, echoed through the courtyard.

Everyone watching felt the weight of her grief.

The man lowered his sword.

He walked toward her slowly.

Ling Wei tensed.

Even though Ling Hua had been reckless, he couldn't allow any harm to come to his daughter.

He clenched his fist, preparing to strike…

But just before he could move, the man removed his hat.

Ling Wei froze.

"...Y-Yun?"

Ling Hua stared at the shadowed figure before her—at the man who now greeted her with a warm smile.

"B...Brother?"

Ling Yun pulled his sister into an embrace.

He gently stroked her hair.

Ling Yun's emotions, raw and unguarded, unknowingly flowed into her through the Heavenly Demon's Eminence.

At that moment, he was guided only by his heart.