On the main peak of Hengshan, lanterns were hung high, casting a vibrant atmosphere of festive celebration.

The main peak plaza, the largest platform in Hengshan, was initially built by the founding patriarch to accommodate only a little over a thousand people. However, after three thousand years of continuous expansion and renovation, the current main peak platform could now easily hold ten thousand people simultaneously.

At this moment, a distinctive radiance shone on the faces of everyone who ascended the main peak.

Regardless of their inner joy or sorrow, the expressions they wore were uniformly bright with happiness.

Today marked the grandest celebratory gathering for the Hengshan lineage in decades. Not since Elder Yu Xichen broke through to the Xiantian (Innate) realm sixty years ago had the sect experienced such lively excitement.

The elders who had attended the gathering six decades prior couldn't help but sigh profoundly upon witnessing this scene, pointing out details to their juniors and rambling about their memories of the past.

Meanwhile, the vast majority of the younger generation were visibly restless, their gazes frequently darting toward the entrance of the main peak plaza, as if awaiting someone in particular.

Hengshan was surrounded by countless subsidiary peaks, but only six held true significance: aside from the Main Peak, there was Spirit Medicine Peak, Wind Fire Peak, Spirit Jade Peak, Thumb Peak, and Grand Mansion Peak.

Over three millennia, countless Xiantian powerhouses had emerged from these six peaks, forming the core pillars of the Hengshan lineage. While Xiantian masters had also appeared on the smaller outlying peaks, those on the minor summits were fleeting, like a passing glance, rarely leading to sustained influence. Thus, upon the death of a Xiantian master on a lesser peak, their disciples and descendants would invariably return to the six great peaks to await the next cycle of ascension.

Currently, the entirety of Hengshan housed over two thousand residents. Living in such a place of picturesque beauty meant their martial cultivation surpassed that of ordinary outsiders by a considerable margin. Among the Houtian (Post-Heaven) experts, dozens had already reached the tenth level of Neijin (Inner Strength).

However, during this past sixty-year cycle, no new generation of experts had managed to advance to the Xiantian realm solely through their own efforts.

This fact was a shared sorrow in the hearts of everyone in Hengshan, but on this very day, all learned that He Wude, the exiled disciple of Hengshan, had not only found two Xiantian Inner Pills but had also brought his grandson, He Yiming—that impossibly young Xiantian expert—under the gates of Hengshan.

For every disciple of Hengshan, this news was an effective adrenaline shot. Consequently, every disciple who could possibly arrive had already gathered in the main peak plaza.

With the necessary personnel left behind on each peak, and the elderly, weak, women, and children who genuinely could not make the journey, virtually no one was absent.

“Master, is Elder He truly only seventeen years old?”

“Nonsense. Do you doubt even the words of the Great Grand-Master?”

“I believe it, but seventeen years old, actually reaching the Xiantian realm?”

“Well… that should be possible, perhaps.”

Similar conversations were whispered secretly from every corner of the plaza.

Although He Yiming had been living in Hengshan for several months, he rarely ventured out. Apart from the Main Peak Library and the alchemy chambers and herb gardens on Spirit Medicine Peak, he was virtually a recluse.

Given this seclusion, only the disciples of Spirit Medicine Peak had seen his true appearance; even disciples from the Main Peak knew little of him, let alone those from the other peaks.

Therefore, regarding this Elder He, whom they had not yet met but whose fame already echoed throughout the sect, a complex, unnameable anticipation stirred in their hearts.

Finally, a massive bell rang out with a boom from the summit, immediately followed by an atmosphere of profound solemnity spreading across the entire area.

The main peak plaza instantly fell silent; even the faintest whisper vanished completely.

The giant bell on the summit was not struck lightly; it was reserved only for extremely momentous occasions in the history of Hengshan, specifically to open the Ancestral Hall.

Today’s striking of the bell was solely to honor the newly emerged Xiantian powerhouse.

Xiantian experts were figures of immense consequence in any sect. Once such a master was born within the ranks, no celebration could ever be considered too grand.

Slowly, the grand gate facing the plaza began to open. Leading the way was Yu Jinglei, closely followed by the three other Xiantian Elders.

The four most important and powerful figures of the Hengshan lineage emerged from the gate, walking with measured steps.

Their gazes, sharp as lightning, swept over the steps. Everyone below—from the white-haired patriarchs to the five-year-old children just beginning to train their Neijin—lowered their eyes, not daring to meet their gaze.

Moments later, Yu Jinglei nodded slowly. Yu Xichen immediately stepped forward and announced in a clear voice, “Main Peak disciples, heed this command: Open the Ancestral Hall.”

The eyes of the assembly uniformly turned toward the summit, filled with admiration and respect.

Everyone knew that only Xiantian realm experts were permitted to enter the Ancestral Hall to receive the offerings made by generations of disciples. They were the most praiseworthy figures in Hengshan’s three-thousand-year history.

Every person present hoped to advance to the Xiantian realm within their lifetime so they could earn the right to enter the Ancestral Hall after death.

However, for the overwhelming majority, this aspiration remained perpetually out of reach.

The heavy bronze doors slowly swung open within sight of all. Someone, without prompting, took the lead, and the moment the doors fully parted, everyone except the four Xiantian Elders knelt in respectful obeisance.

Yu Jinglei personally lit the first stick of incense for the founding patriarchs, followed by the three elders, the leaders of each peak, and all Houtian peak experts who had reached the tenth level of Neijin.

Every individual qualified to offer incense was a crucial pillar of the Hengshan lineage. If the ancestors in the hall had founded the legacy of Hengshan, then these current figures were the absolute bedrock supporting the entire edifice.

They too were met with gazes of envy and admiration. Below, countless individuals, witnessing this scene, resolved to strive for self-improvement, ultimately aiming to become peak Houtian masters or even Xiantian realm experts.

Every opening of the Ancestral Hall was a rare experience and a potent stimulus for the multitude of disciples.

Yu Jinglei and the other three elders observed this entire scene, exchanging glances, their hearts filled with deep satisfaction.

These men secretly lamented that if tradition allowed, they would happily arrange to open the Hall every decade or two.

Each person entering the Ancestral Hall to offer incense was profoundly pious, their movements steady and impeccable.

Finally, once everyone had completed the incense offering, Yu Xichen proclaimed in a clear, solemn voice, “Kneel in homage to the Ancestors.”

This time, even Yu Jinglei himself bowed low to the ground.

Under such a grand atmosphere, even those whose hearts had previously wandered found their minds collected, kneeling with wholehearted reverence.

After a long while, when the entire sacrificial rite concluded, everyone rose.

Yu Xichen’s voice rang out, loud and solemn: “Ancestors bear witness, He Wude, step forward.”

“Yes…”

An equally resonant but distinctly aged voice echoed in from the plaza entrance.

All eyes turned there, spotting a white-haired, yet remarkably spirited old man already standing at the plaza’s threshold.

He Wude’s gaze swept excitedly across the plaza. Over forty years ago, it was right here that Yu Jinglei had expelled him from the sect.

Back then, in the eyes of countless onlookers, he had seen only contempt and scorn.

His dream of returning to the gates was fueled, in part, by the desire to reclaim that lost dignity.

Now, the nearly two thousand people present looked upon him with undisguised envy.

To allow a sect exile to re-enter the sacred grounds of the main peak plaza, especially while the Ancestral Hall was wide open…

He Wude drew a deep breath, his eyes brimming with self-respect. His life, after all, had not been lived in vain!

He walked step by step toward the Ancestral Hall. Naturally, the crowd parted, leaving a straight, broad avenue directly down the center, as if welcoming a general returning from a triumphant campaign, bestowing upon him the highest form of ceremonial welcome.

He Wude’s face was flushed with an unnatural crimson due to excessive emotion. He knew that in the past, only the Xiantian Elders were entitled to such rites.

Yu Jinglei had deliberately arranged such a grand return ceremony for him to compensate for the shame of his past expulsion.

Of course, He Wude was acutely aware that securing this extraordinary treatment was entirely due to He Yiming. Without this Xiantian grandson, even recovering the two Xiantian Inner Pills would never have afforded him such glory today.

Though He Wude wished to walk on indefinitely in satisfaction, the straight line from the plaza entrance to the Ancestral Hall inevitably had an end.

When he reached the front of the Ancestral Hall, though lingering in the moment, he stopped and knelt reverently, proclaiming loudly, “Hengshan exile He Wude pays respects to all ancestors.”

Yu Xichen nodded slightly and announced clearly, “Ancestors bear witness, He Wude, though expelled from Hengshan, has remained devoted to the sect for decades without complaint. Recently, He Wude has rendered an immense service to Hengshan by bringing Elder He Yiming into our fold. In light of this, the sect elders have decided to restore He Wude’s status as a Hengshan disciple.” He suddenly turned and commanded sternly, “He Wude, are you willing to return to the sect gates?”

He Wude looked up, and the answer from the depths of his heart burst forth: “This disciple is willing.”

His voice boomed through the plaza like thunder, echoing endlessly in the ears of the crowd.

As if moved by the sincerity in that voice, the entire plaza fell silent once more. Every person watching He Wude felt a surge of varied emotion.

They questioned themselves: placed in his shoes, could they have done the same as He Wude?

Slowly, most gazes began to hold a degree of respect, for they realized that their own devotion to Hengshan likely paled in comparison to that of this earnest, white-haired elder.

After performing the three bows and nine kowtows before the ancestral tablets in the hall, He Wude approached Medicine Daoist, kneeling heavily. “Master, your disciple has returned.”

He had spoken those exact words when he first met Medicine Daoist upon returning to Spirit Medicine Peak. Now, as he formally rejoined the lineage, witnessed by thousands across Hengshan, he repeated the phrase.

Yet, the meaning behind the two occasions was vastly different.

At this moment, a strange feeling surfaced in the hearts of countless older members; they seemed to recall the scene from over forty years ago.

Back then, absolutely no one could have predicted that He Wude would not only return but do so with such splendor.

Medicine Daoist helped He Wude rise and nodded with deep contentment. “Wude, you may take your place.”

He Wude responded, turned, and moved toward the area designated for Spirit Medicine Peak disciples. He Wujin and the others offered their sincere congratulations, and He Wujin himself clasped his hand firmly.

Their four hands locked together; a thousand words were unspoken between them.

Yu Jinglei slowly stepped forward, and Yu Xichen wisely receded, knowing his duty for the day was complete.

As Yu Jinglei stepped forward, the plaza naturally hushed. They understood why the most revered figure in Hengshan had appeared.

The atmosphere in the plaza, having reached a peak with He Wude’s return, was now charged with anticipation, everyone gazing toward the steps at the figure who seemed almost divine in their eyes—Yu Jinglei.

The elder’s expression was grave as he spoke slowly, “We invite Elder He Yiming.”

His voice carried clearly, and the crowd simultaneously looked back toward the plaza entrance.

There, the space was empty…

Just as doubt began to surface in the minds of the onlookers, a figure abruptly materialized.

It was a young man whose features were unremarkable, yet his eyes shone like twin stars. Anyone whose gaze met his felt a momentary tremor, involuntarily lowering their own eyes; not a single person dared to meet his stare.

However, apart from the select few who had already seen He Yiming, everyone else was overcome with an immense sense of wonder.

Even though they had heard that He Yiming was only seventeen, hearing the information and seeing it firsthand were entirely different matters.

When they witnessed his actual age, the shock they felt was beyond mere description. The deepest impressions were etched upon the faces of the Houtian peak experts at the tenth level of Neijin; their looks were far more complicated than those of the ordinary disciples.

He Yiming stepped forward, and just like He Wude, he walked the path carved through the thousand-plus people, arriving before the Ancestral Hall.

The moment he reached this spot, he distinctly felt the immense pressure generated by the countless gazes fixed upon his back.

Although He Wude was a master of the tenth level of Neijin, he was not a Xiantian expert and thus could not perceive the sheer pressure when so many gazes coalesced into a single point.

He Yiming, however, felt it acutely. He noted that because every one of the thousand-plus people present was a trained Houtian practitioner—with dozens at the tenth level of Neijin—the pressure they exerted upon him was actually far greater than the pressure he felt when facing Cheng Fu in battle, surrounded by thousands of spectators.

Nevertheless, as a Xiantian expert, He Yiming merely straightened his spine, allowing his true Qi to circulate smoothly, instantly rendering the pressure insignificant.

He was suddenly reminded of the New Year sparring matches with his peers back at the He Family Estate.

At that time, under the gaze of merely a few hundred household servants, he had felt a flutter of apprehension. Yet now, facing the scrutiny of thousands of Houtian cultivators, he stood composed and unruffled.

In just a few short years, everything he had experienced had fostered rapid growth.

In that moment, he felt an overwhelming sense of time having passed, as if crossing eras.

“He Yiming,” Yu Jinglei coughed lightly, fixing his gaze on He Yiming’s eyes, and asked solemnly, “Are you willing to join my Hengshan lineage?”

He Yiming looked up as if awakening from a dream. The haze in his eyes receded, replaced by an equal degree of gravity.

“Willing.”

The single word was clearly articulated.

The volume was not immense, but in the plaza, so silent one could hear a pin drop, it struck with the force of a thunderclap.

Even the four elders, who had already known the answer, let out long sighs of relief. They exchanged glances, their eyes sparkling with inexpressible joy and excitement.

“Good!” Yu Jinglei boomed the word, then announced loudly, “Ancestors above, from this day forward, He Yiming joins the Hengshan lineage and becomes the fourth Xiantian Elder of Hengshan.”

He turned and was the first to kneel. Beside him, Medicine Daoist and the others followed suit.

He Yiming then “heard” everyone behind him kneel once more, his own grandfather, He Wude, no exception.

Though no one instructed him, in such circumstances, only an idiot would not know what to do. He Yiming immediately followed suit and knelt, becoming one ordinary member among the crowd.

The induction of a Xiantian expert was visibly a grander affair than He Wude’s restoration to the sect. Under Yu Jinglei’s personal supervision, He Yiming performed the solemn rite of three bows and nine kowtows to the founding patriarchs, and then, accompanied by the elders, he was introduced to every memorial tablet in the hall, learning the histories of these predecessors.

A full day later, the grand ceremony finally concluded.

At the end, Yu Jinglei dismissed all the disciples in the plaza. Before the Ancestral Hall, the elders stood together. Yu Jinglei solemnly produced a bronze plaque. “Elder He, this is the credential of an Elder of the Hengshan lineage. Please accept it and keep it safe.”

He Yiming accepted it with both hands, looking at the depiction of swirling, cloud-wreathed mountains engraved on the bronze. He understood instantly: this represented the natural environment surrounding the Hengshan lineage.

The main peak of Hengshan, in particular, soared into the clouds, seeming to pierce the very heavens.

The moment his hand closed around the bronze plaque, He Yiming knew he was officially a member of Hengshan. His destiny, from this moment forward, would be inextricably bound to this great sect until the end of his life…