Chapter Forty: The Ming Family Patriarch Is Attacked

Yuan Yaoyang escorted the group to their guest rooms, gave a few instructions, and then departed.

There were still several hours before the opening of the Illusory Labyrinth, so Yan Qingye suggested they explore the area. The servants had previously introduced many delicacies, and You Xiyue always urged Junyang to fast. Junyang pondered that perhaps there would be unexpected foods to try, so he agreed. You Xiyue, never fond of bustling places, chose to stay behind.

Yet, not long after the others left, Yan Qingye and Feng Qinghe came rushing back, their faces anxious. Yan Qingye knocked fervently on You Xiyue’s door. “Little Master! Little Master! Something terrible has happened!”

You Xiyue emerged, still not fully awake, rubbing his eyes. “What’s the matter?”

“The Ming Family was attacked! Their family crest was stolen, and the secret realm may not open at all.”

You Xiyue stopped rubbing his eyes, lifting his gaze in confusion. “Who would attack the Ming Family?”

“I don’t know either. Master Ming is still unconscious.” Yan Qingye fretted, “Senior Junyang went with Chen Yu to the Thirty-Seventh Layer of the continent, and told me to come back and inform you.”

“Oh.” Junyang’s initiative surprised You Xiyue. After all, apart from You Xiyue and gourmet food, Junyang rarely showed much interest in anything.

You Xiyue remained calm, while Yan Qingye paced nervously before him and Feng Qinghe like an ant on a hot pan.

“If you’re worried, go to the Thirty-Seventh Layer and see for yourself,” You Xiyue suggested.

Yan Qingye shook his head. “I just have an inexplicable sense of unease—not only about Master Ming.”

You Xiyue sighed, raised his palm, and traced a semicircle in the air. Instantly, a mirror-like water screen appeared before the three.

Displayed on the water screen were Junyang, Ming Chen Yu, and Ye Lin Yi, just entering the Ming Family gate. Half the Ming Family manor had collapsed, the gate shattered into pieces, and the protective array had vanished. In the courtyard lay a large pit, its edge scattered with the bodies of fallen servants.

Ming Yuyao, the second sister, was covered in blood, deep wounds visible on her body, yet she tirelessly ran about, helping to carry severely injured elders of the clan.

Ming Chen Yu was more silent than ever. After glancing at his sister, he ran straight to the back courtyard, toward Ming Chengwu’s quarters.

There, many clan members had gathered. His seventh uncle, Ming Zhu, wore an expression of utter despair.

“Seventh Uncle...” Ming Chen Yu, seeing Ming Zhu’s face, grew completely unsettled. “Father, he...”

Ming Zhu shook his head. “It’s my fault. All the lifesaving pills I could refine are insufficient to bring your father back.”

---

Ming Chen Yu’s hand, still holding Ming Zhu’s, froze in midair. His ears buzzed; it felt as if time itself had stopped.

Junyang walked over and patted Ming Chen Yu’s back. “Where is the Dreamshade Mushroom?”

“Dreamshade Mushroom?” Hope rekindled in Ming Zhu’s eyes as he grabbed Ming Chen Yu’s wrist. “Do you have Dreamshade Mushroom?”

Ming Chen Yu, shaken from his sorrow, recalled that You Xiyue had given him a small piece of Dreamshade Mushroom in the lower realm. “Yes, I have it. Little Master gave it to me.”

Ming Zhu exhaled in relief. “Quickly, give it to me! I’ll begin refining the pill.”

“Alright... yes...” Ming Chen Yu fumbled through his Qiankun pouch, his hands trembling with fear. After several attempts, he found the Dreamshade Mushroom and handed it to Ming Zhu. “Seventh Uncle... this will save Father, won’t it?”

Ming Zhu nodded heavily. “There’s a strong chance. Watch over him.”

“Alright...” Ming Chen Yu stepped inside, hesitating at the threshold.

For more than a thousand years since his birth, the upper realm had been relatively peaceful despite occasional strife. He never imagined his family would suffer such calamity, nor that his father—once a towering figure atop the Thirty-Seventh Layer—would now be so close to death.

Ming Chengwu had been a Celestial King for many years, his cultivation second only to Mu Wan Chong, head of the Mu Family. He was among the most powerful in the upper realm; who could have wounded him so gravely?

As Ming Chen Yu entered, he saw his father—pale-faced, his hair white as snow. Tears threatened to break free.

Such frailty could only result from severe injuries.

Yan Qingye, watching through the water screen, was shaken. This was the state only a dying immortal would show.

At the Celestial King level, one’s lifespan should span tens of thousands—indeed, even two hundred thousand—years, with hair black as night and vitality undiminished.

“How did he end up like this?”

Yan Qingye’s heart clenched as he watched Ming Chen Yu approach the bedside, feeling the pain keenly.

“Little Master, is there hope for Uncle Ming? Can the Dreamshade Mushroom save him?”

“It can.” You Xiyue, though frowning, gave a definite answer.

Dreamshade Mushroom was a supreme immortal herb for saving lives, and You Xiyue’s specimen was particularly special. Reviving Ming Chengwu would be no issue.

Yan Qingye relaxed a little at You Xiyue’s reassurance.

Yet, Ming Chengwu’s condition seemed not solely due to his injuries.

You Xiyue formed another spell and sent a red light into the water screen.

---

Inside Ming Chengwu’s room, another water screen appeared.

Sensing You Xiyue’s spiritual power, Junyang hurried in. “Little Ancestor?”

Hearing Junyang’s voice, Ming Chen Yu—who had been silent—turned and saw You Xiyue, Yan Qingye, and Feng Qinghe on the other side of the water screen.

“Master?”

Ming Chen Yu stood up and approached the water screen, his gaze noticeably dim.

“Do you know who attacked?”

Ming Chen Yu shook his head. At this moment, his sole focus was saving Ming Chengwu. His mind was in turmoil; he had no capacity to ask for details.

“Find out. The family crest must be recovered.”

At You Xiyue’s mention of the crest, Junyang glanced at Ming Chengwu, pondered briefly, and asked, “Little Ancestor, do you mean Chengwu’s condition is partly due to damage to the family spirit?”

“Half the reason,” You Xiyue replied.

When a clan leader inherits the family, he must drip his heart’s blood onto the crest, forming a pact with the family spirit. The spirit grants the leader vast spiritual power and draws faith from him. If the spirit is damaged, the leader becomes a living sacrifice—like Ming Chengwu, drained of faith, losing vitality, and aging rapidly.

Upon hearing this, Ming Chen Yu finally regained clarity. His eyes grew resolute. “I’ll investigate.”

“Good.” You Xiyue severed the water screen.

Junyang accompanied Ming Chen Yu back to the courtyard.

Now, the Ming Family’s young master appeared more authoritative. “Gather everyone who fought and is still conscious—I need to question them.”

The servants, feeling they had found their pillar, spoke with renewed confidence. “Yes.”

Orders were swiftly sent to every corner of the Ming Family estate.

Soon, all those still conscious—even those carried on stretchers—were assembled in the courtyard.

Ming Chen Yu sat on the steps, gazing at the crowd, his voice devoid of emotion. “Tell me everything. Describe the attackers—their appearance, techniques, words—every detail, leave nothing out. Speak one by one, in order.”