On a stone platform jutting out from the sheer cliff face amidst the mountains, Zong Shou looked around, his mind a blank canvas of confusion and shock.

Then, in the next instant, his gaze was captured by a figure standing ahead, silhouetted against the distant, rosy dawn.

Clad in simple, unadorned cloth, impeccably clean and white. Though the back was not particularly broad, the presence it exuded was immense, and the aura felt ethereal and unpredictable.

Yet, for some inexplicable reason, as Zong Shou gazed upon this figure, he felt an underlying current of desolation and sorrow emanating from them.

"Shou'er, do you miss your mother?"

"Of course, I do! But Father, didn't you say Mother is no longer in the Cloud Realm, that she can't return?"

"She's indeed not in the Cloud Realm, but that doesn't mean she can't come back!"

The figure gave a wry smile, not turning around. "Before, I only thought your mother was dead, but lately, I keep thinking of her. Perhaps I really should make an effort and bring her back. My Shou'er shouldn't have to be without a mother forever."

"Really? Father, you're not lying to me? Where is Mother? I want to see Mother now."

Zong Shou felt increasingly bewildered. Though he didn't intend to speak, the words spilled out of their own accord. And the voice was incredibly tender, sounding like that of a six-year-old child. Especially when the word "Mother" left his lips, a surge of eager anticipation warmed his chest.

Frowning, he pondered for a moment, before finally realizing. This must be a fragment from Zong Shou’s thirteen years of memory.

The figure ahead suddenly turned back, laughing heartily. The handsome face was brimming with heroic spirit, and the eyes were piercingly sharp.

"You can come with me to see your mother, but your skills cannot be lacking. Twenty years. Just twenty years, and we shall see just how formidable that Lu family is, the one that supposedly dominates eight hundred Lesser Thousand Worlds—"

Zong Shou’s eyes narrowed slightly. This figure... wasn't this the Blood-Crazed Demon Sage, the Nine-Tailed Celestial Fox, whom he knew so well?

Before he could process further, the scene before him shattered into fragments. Zong Shou’s consciousness flowed along the long river of memory. Soon, he arrived at another memory scene.

This time, it was a wide training ground, with numerous stone locks and a large collection of spears, halberds, swords, and blades laid out nearby.

His own chest and abdomen heaved violently with breathlessness. His body felt as if it were undergoing grueling exercise, utterly exhausted.

Within his chest, a breath was trapped, and boundless unwillingness flooded his heart. He hated Heaven and Earth for their injustice, hated his own body for being so useless.

It was the same middle-aged man, but now his eyes lacked all sharpness, instead filled entirely with heartache and guilt.

"That's enough, Shou'er. Your Meridian Wheel hasn't opened because you possess both human and demonic dual meridians. It’s not your fault you cannot practice martial arts. Torturing yourself further is pointless. If you cannot tread the path of Martial Cultivation, can you not cultivate Soul Power? In a few days, Father will send you to Linhai Academy—"

The memory broke apart again. When Zong Shou’s vision slowly coalesced from countless fragments into a scene, he found himself in a narrow corridor.

Zong Shou walked within it, hearing countless petty voices drifting in from both sides.

"Is this the good-for-nothing from Class E? Three years have passed, and he still hasn't managed to open his Soul Sea?"

"That's him. I heard this person is the young lord of Qiantian Mountain, the future Demon King Highness—"

"Tch! The Demon Race has always honored strength above all else. How could those people from Qiantian Mountain ever submit to him? Isn't he already doomed?"

"Ridiculous. Since he has no talent, he should just leave! Taking up a spot, a spiritual land, for nothing!"

Unlike before, within Zong Shou’s chest now, the unwillingness grew fiercer, and resentment surged even stronger. In addition to these feelings, threads of despair permeated the bottom of his heart.

Then, not just the memories of his thirteen years, but also the unfairness and suffering he endured in his previous life, surfaced one by one.

The sorrow of losing his father in childhood, forcing him to single-handedly support his sickly mother in his youthful prime. While working menial jobs, he stubbornly studied relentlessly every day, managing to test into the highest academy in the Eastern Cloud Realm. Yet, the spot was seized by someone with power and influence, and he couldn't even complete his studies. His mother passed away grieving, leaving him utterly alone.

Afterward, he struggled fiercely, gradually revealing his talent in the business world, only to be envied and ostracized. He was forced into the degrading position of working in a library just to make ends meet.

Zong Shou watched all this with a slight smile, as if it had nothing to do with him. Then, with a wave of his hand, the illusions before him completely dissipated.

When he opened his eyes again, the sound of the flute continued, winding and lingering as before. Zhao Yanran herself seemed utterly immersed in the music, her expression intensely focused.

Zong Shou let out a soft laugh, leaning back languidly. He settled into an extremely comfortable, slanted recline beneath the eaves of the carriage.

Then, just as the flute melody shifted its rhythm again, he tapped the side of the carriage lightly with his Songwen Wind Sword, sheath and all.

The sound was not loud, but the clash of metal against wood caused the flute note to abruptly halt.

The mournful artistic conception vanished instantly.

Zhao Yanran could not help but look over with a startled expression. Seeing Zong Shou still maintaining his clarity, a faint smile playing on his lips, she felt a jolt of genuine astonishment.

Frowning, Zhao Yanran was about to change her tone, sending waves of spiritual energy toward the Cloud-Turning Carriage. But she saw Zong Shou tap the sword again. This time, it was abrupt yet perfectly timed, succeeding in utterly scrambling her flute music. Any remaining subtlety dissolved into nothingness.

Yin Yang and Chu Xue, who had been immersed in recollection, gradually returned to awareness at this moment. Seeing the situation, they were first puzzled. But within moments, cold sweat broke out on their brows, and fear flickered in their eyes.

A hint of icy sharpness also appeared in Zhao Yanran’s eyes. Once might be coincidence, but two consecutive times could never be explained away as accident.

This person before her genuinely possessed a method to break free from her Yellow Springs Netherworld Melody.

Before she could even consider a response, the third tap sounded once more.

This third strike made her not only feel her own music disrupted but also caused the internal qi within her body to feel unstable. Moreover, a sensation was lodged in her chest, unable to be vented.

Zhao Yanran’s gaze flickered. She paused for a moment, yet still managed to blow the subsequent notes.

Then, opposite her, Zong Shou’s lips curved into an incredibly wicked smile, and for the fourth time, he struck the wooden panel with his sword.

This final action not only made it impossible for her to sustain her flute performance but also caused the bloodstain on the outer garment near her left chest to instantly expand by a full circle.

Her face, resembling a peach blossom, now seemed several shades paler.

But as the icy coldness receded from her eyes, there was no hint of anger; instead, her fervor burned even more intensely.

This youth, who hadn't even reached his full maturity, had given her such a magnificent surprise!

"Zong Shou, are you truly only thirteen? Have you studied music before? Even my several junior sisters have always been helpless against my Yellow Springs Netherworld Melody. To be able to break free from my music on your own is already extraordinary. To actually shatter it is something no ordinary martial artist can achieve. How could I possibly abandon such raw jade as you now? How about this: if you agree, besides the lotus seeds of the Twelve Illusory Flame Fire Lotus, I will also gift you three Fetal Refining Pills. If you still refuse, well, I do have other ways to take you by force—"

Zong Shou sighed inwardly, rubbing his temples with a touch of bitterness. This crazy woman seemed truly determined to have him.

He was racking his brain, trying to figure out how to politely dismiss her, when suddenly, he felt a massive shadow loom over him.

Lifting his head to look upward, he saw clearly a dragon shadow weaving through the clouds, gliding through the high sky three hundred zhang above.

Zong Shou couldn't help but let out a long breath of relief. He had waited a full ten days. This one had finally arrived.