Zong Shou paused, followed by a cold, dismissive snort, offering no reply.

He mused that by this time, those few individuals should already be rising to prominence, especially the Lord of Heavenly Mandate, the protagonist of this entire realm, who should soon emerge. Having experienced decades within the virtual illusion, he understood the brutal nature of this impending struggle all too well. He held no genuine fear of these rivals; cultivators, by nature, lacked reverence. Even the future Master of a Million Worlds would dare to contend. Though rumor suggested the God-Emperor would inevitably hail from the Central Cloud Continent and be of human descent, his own fate was mutable, meaning the title of God-Emperor might yet be within his grasp. However, his heart lay elsewhere, utterly unwilling to waste energy on such a pursuit.

"It must be done out of necessity!"

Zong Weiran seemed to read his thoughts and sighed softly. "Consider it for your mother's sake. The might of the Lu family far exceeds your imagination. Even I, as I am now, am but a pawn in their eyes. Even a Saint might fail to sway the Lu family's decision. The only recourse is to utterly crush the Lu family, to shatter the Eight Hundred Worlds—"

Zong Shou's heart skipped a beat, his pupils contracting sharply.

Mother? Lu Hanyan—

Images from his childhood flooded his mind, not belonging to Tan Qiu, but to 'Zong Shou'. He had never possessed any memory of Lu Hanyan; he didn't even know what his mother looked like. Back then, he always envied others who had a mother's love. Yet, it was said that until he was eight, all his clothing was personally made by his mother and kept within the Hanyan Palace. It seemed she knew long before his birth that he could not remain in the Cloud Realm, and during that brief time, she personally cut and stitched every piece for him. Though they never met, he could sense that woman cherished him deeply, her love profound.

But wasn't his mother taken away by the Lu family? Why would Zong Weiran speak like this? In his imagination, once Zong Weiran displayed strength worthy of a direct descendant of the Lu lineage, the matter should have been resolved easily. Could there be some hidden circumstance he was unaware of?

He looked over with a questioning gaze. Zong Weiran offered a self-deprecating smile. "You ought to know this now. The Lu family claimed your mother committed a grave error by marrying outside the clan, thus deeming her a criminal. In truth, I, Zong Weiran, should have died at the hands of the Lu family twenty years ago. It was your mother who bore the burden, willingly accepting the clan's harsh penance. Their family rules are deeply ingrained; whether they would break precedent for me remains uncertain. Such ancient clans fear breaking decorum above all else, and they cannot afford to lose face—"

Zong Shou gazed silently at the sky, his brow tightly furrowed. So, the only solution was to utterly dismantle the Fen Tian Lu family, the masters of the Eight Hundred Worlds! To grind their pride into dust before he could even begin to negotiate with them.

A brief struggle passed between the pinnacle of the Sword Dao and familial devotion, and Zong Shou reached his decision.

"I will do my utmost!"

In a world focused primarily on spiritual cultivation from later ages, one phrase had remained etched in Zong Shou’s memory: In this world, there are no unfilial Immortals. To true cultivators, this was nonsense, but Zong Shou found himself largely agreeing with the sentiment. He admitted he wasn't a purely dedicated sword ascetic. Some would sacrifice everything for the Way of the Sword, caring nothing for kinship—like that Li Xieling, who murdered his wife and mother, utterly unburdened. He could not do that now; his heart carried too many burdens, too many people and events he could not simply abandon. Zong Shou had his own Way, viewing these people and matters as integral to his cultivation. To learn to give up something without having given his all for it would render his journey incomplete. This, for Zong Shou, was the bedrock of his Sword Heart.

It was also reminiscent of what Elder Dragon Shadow had said upon his departure: The world is too small for two tigers. Had he foreseen this confrontation? He now realized his earlier notions had been hopelessly naive. He, Zong Shou, ultimately had to contend with those others!

Seeing his nod, Zong Weiran smiled with satisfaction. "Do your best! If it proves impossible, there is no need to force it. Prioritize your own safety and withdraw from the Cloud Realm intact!"

At this point, Zong Weiran’s voice grew laced with wistfulness. "Your father must depart! With those Boundary Protecting Venerables present, and without the protection of the Zhou Book, I cannot remain in this realm for long. If those individuals sense my presence, the whereabouts of the Zhou Book might well be exposed. You must be cautious in the future. Before reaching the Divine Realm, do not seek me out. Act as if you never met your father in this Drowning Cloud Sea."

Zong Shou raised an eyebrow coldly, recalling those figures whose voices he knew but whose faces he had never seen. The battle at Shangxiao Sect, where the Cang Sheng Dao used him to lay a trap, should have resulted in the death of one Venerable, keeping them quiet for a time. However, if the Zhou Book was involved, those five would likely stop at nothing. Unless he reached the Divine Realm and possessed the power to protect himself.

"Where are you going then? Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked, though he absolutely refused to admit the underlying worry for the man.

Zong Weiran laughed from the bottom of his heart, overjoyed by the question. "Before your mother left, she told me of a place that might benefit me, perhaps allowing a significant surge in my cultivation. Since I cannot directly enter the Saint Realm using the Zhou Book's origin now, I must seek my fortune there. If I gain something, I will go find trouble with the Lu family. Rest assured, while going there now would be a near-certain death sentence, with my current capabilities, escaping will not be difficult."

Zong Shou felt a slight easing of anxiety. Indeed! With Zong Weiran’s current abilities, mastering aspects of time manipulation, very few things in this world could truly threaten him.

Seeing the relief in Zong Shou’s expression, Zong Weiran smiled, patted Zong Shou’s head one last time, and retracted his consciousness. He then stepped forward, tearing open the void in that area of chaotic magnetic force.

Zong Shou felt his limbs regain mobility and quickly stood upright. Being completely suppressed and bound moments ago had been intensely uncomfortable. Watching Zong Weiran’s receding back, a flicker of reluctance and hesitation crossed Zong Shou's eyes. Just as Zong Weiran was about to vanish, he finally asked, "Why did you make me destroy my own cultivation? At that time, you should have possessed the strength to contend with the Lu family. A Saint mastering the Past, Present, and Future should have been unrivaled under heaven, yet you willingly dropped four whole tiers for my sake, ultimately leading to your own demise. You truly are quite foolish—"

It was just the death of one son; he could have another later. Why the elaborate trouble?

Zong Weiran paused, seemingly contemplating deeply, before shaking his head and smiling faintly. "How can one know what they haven't experienced? Perhaps I was truly mad at the time. Or perhaps I felt too ashamed to face your mother. Unable to protect my beloved wife, incapable of shielding my son—my life, Zong Weiran's life, has been truly pitiful. As for being unrivaled under heaven then, that is an exaggeration. Achieving Sainthood through external force allows for rapid success, but advancing further becomes infinitely harder later. For me, this might not be an ill fortune."

With that, he lingered no longer, stepping through the spatial rift.

Zong Shou stood silently on the spot. After a long while, he gradually returned to himself. He felt a pang of regret; the title of 'Father' had never passed his lips before Zong Weiran was gone. With a heavy sigh, Zong Shou sharply struck the side of his head as self-reprimand. Then, he too stepped forward, leaving that space.

In fact, since Zong Weiran's departure, this area was already unstable, distorted by magnetic forces, close to collapse. Zong Shou had no desire to linger, knowing Zong Weiran’s words were no exaggeration. He understood that while the Saint Realm cultivators could not foresee the future, their spiritual senses were incredibly acute; even the slightest flaw might allow these Saint Venerables to deduce the truth.

Far from the Drowning Cloud Sea, just reaching the periphery, Zong Shou faintly sensed a vast wave of soul-sense sweep toward the area, enveloping his entire being. It was incredibly subtle; had Zong Shou’s martial Dao intent not already entered the Soul Realm and focused specifically on detection, he wouldn't have noticed it at all. Yet, the sweep was limited to about three feet around him. The sense lingered briefly, as if wary of something, then retreated like the tide, making no further contact.

Zong Shou inwardly gave a cold sneer, pretending ignorance, and continued to search around the Drowning Cloud Sea in a feigned manner. Not until three days later, finding nothing, did he walk out of the sea with a show of 'disappointment.' He still wasn't certain if that consciousness had departed. He continued to act as if he noticed nothing, heading west. He flew at full speed for a full day before the intense sensation of danger finally receded. Only when his spiritual power was nearly depleted did he choose a mountain peak that looked rather ethereal and descend.

While restoring his soul power, Zong Shou entered a state of deep meditation—neither truly asleep nor merely dreaming. Suddenly, his sea of consciousness expanded. Zong Shou materialized a form within the void of his own mind, stepping within.

In only a moment, he reached the vicinity of the blue light. Remembering that a few years ago, he had shared a drink here with another version of 'himself,' Zong Shou’s expression turned wistful. At that time, he hadn't realized that he and that other self were fundamentally one entity.

He then looked toward the mass of sapphire brilliance, murmured a single sentence, and abruptly crossed before the light mass. Previously, when he visited this spot, he had tried to examine this object but was always repelled; not even a trace of soul-sense could penetrate. But now, there was a distinct pull, and before Zong Shou could even act, he was 'swallowed' inside.

Stepping within, Zong Shou stood fixed, gazing at the tome that appeared immense within his soul sea. His hand moved out tentatively, his gaze slightly dazed.

"This is—the Zhou Ji Ming Shi?" (To be continued...)