"Rong'er, isn't what you're doing a little too extreme?" Yang Xuan questioned his granddaughter in an apartment in City A at that moment.

"I don't think so!" A smile, six parts coldness, played on Yang Rong's lips. Even though she now knew everything that had happened back then, she wouldn't hate her grandfather to the core. "Are you doubting your own grandson?"

"Rong'er, tell me. Are you...!" Yang Xuan asked, his heart struggling as he watched Yang Rong's demeanor.

"Yes!" Yang Rong gave a secretive smile, then turned. "You're right, I know everything now. Especially about what happened more than twenty years ago!"

"Is that so?" Yang Xuan's spirit faltered. He understood clearly that his haste back then wasn't merely about rushing into cultivation; it was about seizing the position of Clan Leader of the Tianmai clan, which prevented him from saving his son and daughter-in-law in time. This was what Yang Xuan regretted most towards Yang Yitian, towards Yang Lingfeng and Du Shishi, and towards the brother and sister who had been separated for many years and still hadn't reunited.

This was why Yang Xuan believed Yang Yitian hated him, and why Yang Rong now showed him an attitude of six parts coldness and four parts respect.

"Rong'er, do you hate Grandpa?" Yang Xuan asked.

"I do!" Yang Rong decided instantly. "No matter how much I hate it, those things are in the past. I'm not someone stubborn and unyielding. I know how to ensure the people dearest to me never suffer a life more agonizing than torment again!"

"So that's why you're treating Xiao Yi this way?"

"Exactly!"

"But Rong'er, you know that if anything happens to him, if Huaxia falls into chaos, the international powers will follow. Then...!"

"Grandpa, don't try to scare me with that line of reasoning. I am perfectly aware, and I have immense faith in my brother. I believe absolutely nothing will happen to him, and after this incident, he will give you a reply that satisfies you, in my stead!" Having spoken, Yang Rong didn't pay further heed to Yang Xuan and turned to walk out.

"Alas, what a calamity, what a calamity. Perhaps the paths they walk now are all of my own making!" Yang Xuan looked deeply pained, his white hair now etched with the weight of time. He sat on the sofa, murmuring to himself, "Lingfeng, your son is about to repeat your path. You couldn't see it through to the end back then. Though your father was at fault, I still hope you watch over Xiao Yi!"

"Sigh..."

At this moment, in the Zhongnanhai region of the North, within a small, antiquated residence.

For an official, living too luxuriously and eating too well often led to assumptions of corruption. If one lived too simply, perhaps eating only coarse grains, others might call them hypocritical. This was the most difficult aspect of being a Head of State. Therefore, choosing modest housing suitable for a comfortably well-off life was the most gratifying outcome for the leaders.

Only this way would people not see them as hypocritical, nor as corrupt officials. They would simply be seen as fair and moderate. This was the thinking of the younger generation of the era, and it was also the affirmation of the older generation. Undoubtedly, the residences of high-ranking officials tended to have an antique style, as this possessed a certain refined charm.

However, two middle-aged men were currently seated in the courtyard playing chess. One was Qin Feng, the current Vice Head of State of Huaxia. The other was Wen Long, the current supreme Head of State of Huaxia!

"Old Wen! Do you think we should conduct a sweep as well?" Qin Feng said calmly, sipping his tea while making a move on the board.

Wen Long heard him, smiled without speaking, emanating the air of an elder who has seen all living beings, his thick eyebrows holding an inscrutable depth of thought. After moving a few pieces, he spoke gently, "Old Qin, what was the result of your last discussion with him?"

"Heh heh, he agreed to revise a few clauses!" Qin Feng chuckled.

"I see you think highly of that young man. Perhaps, you should invite him over another day to enjoy some authentic Northern home cooking?" Wen Long said, diverting from the topic at hand.

"Old Wen, what are you implying...!"

"Alas, one grows old and cannot worry about everything. Moreover, I believe that under the current circumstances, this situation might not be the worst for us. At least it can reduce some external variables!"

"Indeed, that young man is truly capable. However, I heard that ambitious fellow has already begun making moves, planning a confrontation with that Yang Yi fellow...!"

"The Battle of the Forbidden City?" Wen Long smiled faintly, placing a chess piece down and taking a sip of tea. "I am aware of their affairs. However, I do have some reservations about that ambitious one. The frequent activities in South Africa, coupled with the Tibetan unrest, are detrimental to the people."

"Haha! I finally understand what you mean, Old Wen. How is it that I find you increasingly difficult to understand lately?"

"Zen saying: A person cannot oversee the situation of a week, nor can they oversee the situation of a circle." Wen Long nodded. "Therefore, for now, we must place all our bets on that young man surnamed Yang."

Qin Feng also nodded, but after a moment, he became somewhat serious. "Old Wen, if the three major military regions act in concert, what do you foresee...!"

"Punish them severely without leniency. Although military power is in their hands, the lives of the people are in ours. This matter must not be treated carelessly, not even slightly."

"I understand that." Seeing Wen Long's stern expression, Qin Feng grasped the gravity of the situation should such an event erupt. "Oh, Yang Yi, Yang Yi. Three years ago, perhaps your life was not highly valued, but the times have changed. Your life now is worth more than mine!" he muttered inwardly, then continued the game of chess with Wen Long.

Simultaneously, in another location, a rather luxurious yet solemn villa—perhaps the liveliest spot among them—where more than ten people were gathered. Six of them were the troublesome figures of the North: the commanders of the three major military regions—Ling Batian, Fang Chenlian, and Mo Liaoran. And the three princes of the Underworld: Ling Tian, Fang Kai, and Mo Leng. The assembled roster was immensely powerful.

Ling Batian glanced at the men sitting to his left and right and said in a deep voice, "Brother Fang, Brother Mo, what are your thoughts on the Black God Gang?"

"The Black God Gang is a major problem, and currently, everything targets its Dragon Lord. The state's objective is also very clear: this person is considered a Tier One protected figure!" Fang Chenlian stated.

"No, I think Brother Fang is mistaken," Mo Liaoran interjected. "The biggest problem right now isn't the Black God Gang, but that ambitious figure who has always been hidden in the shadows."

"Ye Han?" Ling Tian and the other two frowned simultaneously. Regarding the discussions of their fathers' generation, they knew they had no place to interject. However, today felt different. If no resolution was reached, they would either face state judgment or risk being prey caught between two major powers, ready to be devoured at any moment!

"Indeed, the Ye family's young master has had some ties with us in the past; you all should be aware of this. But if we cannot make the correct decision now, you know the consequences. That's why I gathered everyone here today—that is the purpose," Ling Batian continued, his brow furrowed. "We have only two choices before us: one is to abandon the Underworld ties, and the other is to relinquish military authority. Which is heavier, I hardly need to elaborate."

"Perhaps the Underworld organizations we established in the North were merely preparing a feast for others. But we still feel a sense of reluctance. The military-controlled Underworld, built up over many years, must now be dangled like bait between two major forces at this critical juncture," Fang Chenlian remarked.

"Indeed."

"Then our conclusion today is clear: we abandon the Underworld ties," Ling Batian declared.

"Mmm!" The other two nodded in succession.

However, the other three showed signs of deep contemplation. Recognizing this, Ling Batian said, "Although we are abandoning the Underworld connections, you three, as the princes of the Underworld and also junior commanders of the military regions, know what you must do. If anything happens later, do not say that we, your fathers, did not warn you!"

"We understand," Ling Tian assented.

After Ling Batian and the other two walked away, Fang Kai and Mo Leng finally asked Ling Tian, "Boss, what do you plan to do?"

"What do you think? The nation has placed its wager heavily on the Black God Gang, which seems to be tilting the scales. So, what should we do? And what if we bet on Ye Han?" Ling Feng seemed to be constantly wrestling between these two questions.

The other two fell into contemplation upon hearing the question. This matter involved their fortunes, their lives, and the power they had painstakingly built.

Hell on the left, and hell on the right.

A grave ahead, and a grave behind.

Should they stand still in the center, or step forward?

Perhaps this was the most bewildering aspect of life, and precisely in this position stood Yang Yi at this moment. Scanning his surroundings, he looked again at the spot where he stood. His eyes were lost, his mind in turmoil; he even felt as if he were caught in an endless, blood-soaked torment.

Because suddenly, paths materialized before him, behind him, to his left, and to his right. All four paths were labeled the Path to the Pinnacle, yet each path bore a different color. The left was black, the right was white, the front was red, and the rear was gray. These four colors represented different life trajectories. Only one of the four avenues was the true Path to the Pinnacle; only one of these great roads was the King's Road.

Gazing at this vision, Yang Yi crouched down, covering his ears against the sounds that continually echoed: Useless, good-for-nothing, powerless, trash, worthless fellow, and similar voices—they seemed to inflict immense pain upon him.

"Which one should I take? Which one is the right way, which one is the King's Road, which one is my Path to the Pinnacle?" Yang Yi mumbled repeatedly. Then, suddenly, he stood up straight, chest out, and roared, "Who can tell me which path to take? Which one do I take?" It seemed as if all the constant memories, all the sudden transformations, and all the surging changes were rapidly dismantling Yang Yi's inner world.