Chapter Forty-Four: The Passing of Feng Yan Hua

After severing the jade slip connection, Feng Tianyang hurled the jade slip aside in anger.

“What kind of attitude is that?”

Feng Tianwu pressed her lips, saying nothing, her heart in turmoil. Feng Qinghe was never one to speak carelessly.

“We should ask our master for leave! We must go home!”

“Agreed!” Although Feng Tianyang was irritated by Feng Qinghe’s manner, he knew Qinghe was not one for jokes, certainly not with him and his sister.

Which meant something was seriously wrong with their father...

Feng Tianyang rose and followed Feng Tianwu into the main hall of the Violet Cliff Palace. Among the three elders there, Elder Qingmei was their master. Qingmei was now a Golden Immortal.

Seeing the two siblings rush in, Elder Qingmei opened his kind eyes and asked, “What has happened to make you so anxious?”

Feng Tianwu tried to steady herself, speaking as calmly as she could. “We received a jade slip from our kin... saying that our father may not make it...”

Elder Qingmei was startled. “How could it be so sudden?”

Feng Tianwu could no longer contain herself. Her eyes were swollen, tears threatening to fall. “We don’t know the details. We must hurry home.”

“Then go quickly,” Elder Qingmei said, handing her a jade token. “If you need anything, summon me at any time.”

“Thank you, Master!” Feng Tianwu knelt in a deep bow, then pulled Feng Tianyang away from Violet Cliff Palace.

By the time they reached the Feng Clan, night had fallen.

When they arrived at the foot of Phoenix Perch Mountain, they were utterly shocked.

This was no longer the mountain they once knew. Craters scarred the landscape, and only the main peak remained. The protective array set by Jun Yang had been completely destroyed by the Shangguan Clan’s spirit. Few buildings were left intact in the Feng residence.

Feng You had just regained consciousness.

The younger generation, like Feng Ling’er, had suffered only minor injuries and were running about the estate, helping alchemists treat the wounded.

Every member of the Feng Clan bore wounds. The once glorious clan now resembled a refugee camp.

Feng Tianwu and Feng Tianyang hurried in, finding Feng Zuo sitting in the courtyard, his right hand bandaged, sighing incessantly.

“Uncle Zuo, what... what happened?”

Feng Zuo looked up at them with weary eyes, his voice dispirited. “We were invaded by outsiders.”

“Outsiders? From which layer of the continent?” Feng Tianyang demanded angrily.

Feng Zuo shook his head helplessly. “Not from any layer.”

“Not from any layer? What do you mean? Surely not the lower realms? When did they gain such power?”

Feng Zuo sighed again. “I heard it was from the Immortal Realm.”

“Immortal Realm? What is that place?” Feng Tianyang asked, bewildered.

Feng Zuo shook his head. “You should go see the clan leader. He may not last the night.”

Feng Tianwu and Feng Tianyang rushed to Feng Yanhua’s chamber.

Feng Qinghe was there, but he bore no wounds, not even a speck of dust on him.

Feng Tianwu and Feng Tianyang cast a displeased glance at Feng Qinghe, then rushed to the dying Feng Yanhua.

Seeing they had arrived, Feng Qinghe quietly withdrew and went to Feng You’s room.

He too was unwilling to accept what had happened, remaining silent all afternoon.

He had asked You Xiyue if the Phantom Dream Mushroom could save Feng Yanhua but was told it was not a cure-all.

Ming Chengwu could be saved because her decline was mostly due to the clan spirit’s influence, not grave injury.

But Feng Yanhua was different. He was barely clinging to life, likely forcing himself to hold on just to see his children one last time.

You Xiyue was also troubled, for Xueyu had vanished.

After Shangguan Hong’s chaos, Xueyu had disappeared, hiding somewhere unknown.

Jun Yang and Yan Qingye searched the seventeenth continent for a long time, but found no trace of her.

A heavy gloom hung over the entire Feng Clan.

Shangguan Hong had returned to the Immortal Realm before the siblings arrived, knowing he must face his family after causing such havoc.

And there was his maid Lan Xing, whom he must find and question.

Feng Yanhua heard Feng Tianwu’s call and struggled to lift his eyelids, his speech already slurred.

“Tian... Wu...”

“Father!” Feng Tianwu could not restrain herself; tears streamed down her face. “Don’t speak, Father. You’ll recover, you must.”

Feng Yanhua shook his head, gently touching her hair. “Silly child, I know my own body. I don’t have much time left. My greatest worry is you, Tianyang, and Tianjiao.”

“Father...” Feng Tianyang knelt by the bed, choking back sobs.

“Tianwu, you’ve always been the most sensible and thoughtful since you were young. Look after Tianyang and Tianjiao from now on.”

“I will, Father. I promise.” Feng Tianwu nodded fiercely.

Feng Yanhua’s eyelids grew heavier. He knew he had done all he could, but fate could not be defied. He looked anxiously at his children. “Be careful... Feng...”

He did not finish the name. His hand fell limp, and his breath ceased.

“Father!!!!”

Feng Tianwu and Feng Tianyang called desperately to him, but no matter how they cried, Feng Yanhua remained silent.

Both knelt, overcome by grief.

Six-year-old Feng Tianjiao arrived at the door, stunned at the sight of her sister and brother’s anguish. She fell to the ground and began to cry as well.

The clan members heard the cries and understood.

One by one, they knelt where they stood.

Feng Qinghe was about to enter Feng You’s room when he heard the commotion.

He froze.

He did not kneel, nor did he grieve, but a trace of desolation appeared in his eyes.

Feng You struggled out of his room and saw Feng Qinghe.

“Third Young Master?”

Feng Qinghe turned, a tear still unhidden at the corner of his eye.

“How are you up?”

Feng You was far more composed than usual. “The clan leader has passed. As the steward, how can I shirk my duty?”

“Are you able?” Feng Qinghe asked.

Feng You smiled. “Not so fragile as all that.”

He limped toward the main hall.

Inside, the kneeling clan members’ faces were filled with sorrow. Feng Yanhua had been clan leader for only three hundred years, but had never wronged his people.

His only regret was likely concerning Feng Qinghe and Qinghe’s father.

Feng Qinghe did not weep for Feng Yanhua.

He grieved his own helplessness.

His father had died so tragically; Feng Yanhua’s actions had never been revealed to the clan.

And now Feng Yanhua was gone, freed from it all.

He could not accept it.

Feng Yanhua still carried his father’s Phoenix Core.

Feng Qinghe smashed his fist against a pillar.

The pillar collapsed with a crash, but it could not release the bitterness in his heart.

Next came the battle for the future clan leader.

The contest with Feng Tianwu.

He would not fail again.