Deep within the forbidden grounds lay the cemetery of the Su family, where four generations of the family’s elders rested. It was a sacred place that clan members could not enter freely to pay their respects. In the past few decades, only the Elders’ Council had the authority to come and go.
But now, the moment of power transition had arrived.
Su Ning strode in with his men, walking through the cemetery as if taking a leisurely stroll. His gaze swept over the mounds until he reached the deepest part, where a meticulously carved white marble tombstone bore the name “Su Laiyin”.
Upon seeing the tombstone, Su Ning’s eyes darkened.
This was the beginning of the Su branch—the bloodline he had continued in a unique way, passed down through generations, creating the prosperity the Su family enjoys today. Every Su descendant had been taught from childhood to revere this ancestor.
Standing behind him, Su Nan felt a tinge of unease upon seeing the tombstone. “Brother Ning, we’re taking power, but… do we really have to target our ancestors?”
Su Ning chuckled carelessly. “I have no issue with the ancestors. On the contrary, I respect them greatly. I am deeply grateful that Su Laiyin created this branch, allowing me to exist. But ancestors belong in the ancestral hall, where the descendants can honor them. If he insists on reincarnating just to stir up trouble for me, then I have no choice but to send him back.”
By the time he finished speaking, his light tone had turned ominous and cold. “Smash it.”
The single word sent a chill through everyone present. No one dared to voice an objection. Su Nan accepted the hammer passed to him, gave a signal, and the group stepped forward.
“Boom—”
The thunderous sound rang out, again and again.
Su Ning watched indifferently from the sidelines, witnessing the tombstone shatter before his eyes. Only when the pristine white marble lay in ruins did he finally gesture for them to stop.
Su Nan and the others wisely took a step back.
“Where are the clansmen?”
“My brother sent a message saying everything is under control, just waiting for verification.”
Su Ning responded with a nonchalant “Mm.” He picked a relatively clean spot and sat on the ground, idly toying with the fragments of white marble scattered around. He had been flipping through the shards for a while when his fingers touched a small fragment, about the size of a thumb. In that instant, a powerful electric current surged from his fingertips, racing through his entire body.
His instinct was to throw it away, but his body had already seized up, beyond his control. Dimly, he heard voices calling his name in alarm, but before he could process anything, his mind went blank, and he lost consciousness.
In the haze, he seemed to be dreaming—a long, lingering dream.
A three-year-old child, stumbling with uncertain steps, ran back and forth through the corridor. One careless move sent him straight into the embrace of a young man in red. Dazed, the toddler reached up to rub his forehead and lifted his gaze, meeting the sharp, striking features of the youth.
“Little Uncle…” The child snuggled into his embrace, mumbling indistinctly, “Little Uncle, I want some tangfulu.”
“You can’t even pronounce ‘tanghulu’ properly, and you think you deserve to eat it?” The youth pinched his cheek, teasing him until his eyes brimmed with tears, only stopping when satisfied. Then, he finally revealed the hands he’d been keeping behind his back—holding two glistening, ruby-red skewers of candied hawthorn.
The child eagerly reached out for them.
But the youth wasn’t ready to hand them over just yet. With a playful smirk, he asked, “Tell me, what’s your name?”
The toddler blinked and, fully committed to earning his treat, answered seriously, “I’m Su Lanxing, my uncle is Su Tiao, courtesy name Weisheng, and my brother is Su Lianyue…”
“Wrong.” Su Weisheng lowered his head, smiling as he regarded the child. In a coaxing tone, he proposed, “Don’t you think names like Lianyue and Lanxing sound too grandiose and pretentious? I’ll promise you all the tanghulu you could ever want—why don’t you and your brother change your names to Laijin and Laiyin instead? Auspicious and festive.”
The child’s eyes stayed fixed on the candied fruit as he nodded vigorously. “Okay…” He had no idea that he had just sold himself.
The young Su Weisheng flashed a triumphant smile.
The next moment, an enraged voice bellowed from the distance: “Su Weisheng, you little rascal! Trying to change the kid’s name again? I swear I’ll beat you to death today!”
With a swift motion, the youth shoved the tanghulu into Su Lanxing’s hands, then leaped away with agility, vanishing without a trace.
At six years old, Su Lanxing was already considered a rare genius within the family. His cultivation speed far outpaced his peers, and even the elders marveled at his talent, second only to Su Tiao. Many believed he was the most suitable heir for the future.
But Su Lanxing was still dissatisfied. Slow—far too slow. His cultivation was nowhere near fast enough to keep up with his uncle.
In the summer, he sat distracted in the study hall, absentmindedly reading while sneaking glances out the window. Outside, the young Su Weisheng practiced his swordsmanship in the courtyard. He wielded his long sword with effortless grace, his movements as swift and ethereal as a startled swan. With a light step, he easily vaulted onto the rooftop, his celestial bearing utterly mesmerizing.
Meanwhile, Su Lianyue, Lanxing’s three-year-old elder brother, was already mimicking their uncle’s swordplay. Every time he earned a word of praise, his cheeks flushed with excitement.
Su Lanxing lowered his head in frustration, biting his lip in disappointment. He longed to train alongside his uncle, but his cultivation was too weak, his age too young—he had yet to grow.
Consumed by impatience, he recklessly pushed his cultivation beyond his years, forcing himself to advance prematurely. The consequence was immediate—he coughed up blood and collapsed, his body convulsing in agony.
Through the haze of pain, he vaguely heard his parents arguing.
One voice was filled with anguish, lamenting that their child should have lived an ordinary life, free from suffering. The other voice, firm and unwavering, insisted that cultivation was the Su family’s destiny, no matter how difficult the path. They fought fiercely.
It hurt so much…
Half-conscious, Su Lanxing wondered—if he died, would he never have the chance to wield a sword again?
He didn’t know how long the pain had lasted before he suddenly felt himself being pulled into a warm embrace. Boundless spiritual energy flowed from the person’s palm into his dantian, gradually washing away the agony. He even sensed that his cultivation had surged significantly.
Dazed, he lifted his head and saw the pale face of the young Su Weisheng, drained from the loss of spiritual energy. Yet, despite his exhaustion, his dark eyes still carried a casual, carefree smile. He even had the leisure to push a tanghulu into Lanxing’s mouth.
“Eat up. Once your cultivation stabilizes, you’ll be fine,” he said, as composed as ever. Though only seventeen, he had already become the pillar of the entire family—someone everyone willingly followed.
Later, Lanxing learned that his uncle had originally been about to take on the role of High Priest, but for his sake, he had forcibly lowered his cultivation by an entire realm. It took him a long time to regain his lost strength.
Another year passed.
His uncle successfully assumed the position of High Priest. At the same time, he announced his intention to lead the Su family out of isolation to face the world and save the suffering masses.
The elders protested vehemently, but Su Lianyue and Su Lanxing, along with the younger generation, stood firm in their support of the High Priest’s decision.
Then came news that his uncle had entered the forbidden land to meet the gods.
Later still, Lanxing saw his father looking at his uncle with deep sorrow, saying, “How can a High Priest have no heirs? If you remain childless, how will you command respect? I’ll pass a child onto you, Sheng-er.”
A sharp pain gripped Lanxing’s heart. He wanted to step forward, to say, Let me be my uncle’s son. For his sake, he would ensure the Su bloodline remained strong.
But before he could speak, Su Weisheng pondered for a moment, then suddenly brightened as he suggested, “Why settle for passing just one child to me? That’s far too uninspired. Brother, I’ve thought of a brilliant plan—how about this? I’ll transfer myself to your name and become your son, then you can transfer your two sons to my name to be my sons. That way, you may lose two sons, but you gain a High Priest as your child and two biological grandsons. Isn’t that perfectly logical?”
“Oh, right! To make this official, I’ve decided to name you the Fifth High Priest, and I’ll be the Sixth High Priest. That way, we both have bright futures ahead of us!”
His utterly ridiculous suggestion shattered the emotional atmosphere in an instant.
Su Lanxing watched his father’s face darken further and further until, at last, he clenched his fists and roared, “Su Tiao, I swear I’ll beat you to death, you reckless fool!!!”
But Su Tiao was the reigning High Priest—he could approve his own decisions. After all, the family registry was in his hands.
And, despite his frustration, Lanxing’s father couldn’t bring himself to reject his brother’s sacrifice. Standing in the rain, he reluctantly went along with the absurd proposal. And so, their family dynamic was officially reorganized.
Once everything was settled, he sighed heavily and addressed Su Weisheng, “These two kids have been close to you since childhood. Sometimes, I wonder who their real father is. But now it’s clear—you are their father. And since you’re a father now, you’d better start acting like one, understand?”
“Of course, of course!” Su Weisheng responded cheerfully. “Being a father comes with privileges—I know that very well! The first thing I’ll do after updating the family registry is to rename them!”
He pointed at Su Lianyue. “From now on, you’ll be Su Laijin!”
Then, turning to Su Lanxing, he declared, “And you’ll be Su Laiyin!”
Su Lianyue scowled, refusing to accept reality.
But Su Laiyin had already transformed into a devoted, unquestioning follower. He had completely inherited Su Weisheng’s mischievous and chaotic nature. Without hesitation, he chirped, “Got it, Dad! Yin remembers!”
Then he turned to his former father—whose face had gone utterly pale—and happily called out, “Grandpa!”
The elder Su completely lost his temper, grabbing a stick and chasing after them. “You two little troublemakers—get back here!!!”
Scenes of memory surged through his mind—his birth, his growth, stepping into the world, fighting alongside his father, acknowledging Yuan Le as his mentor. Then, his father’s deep slumber, and his unwavering determination to carry the burden of continuing the Su family’s legacy. He had even forced himself through countless lifetimes of reincarnation, all for the chance to meet his father again.
And now—this moment.
Su Ning’s eyes snapped open. Su Nan, seeing him finally awake, rushed forward to help him up. He braced himself against Su Nan’s shoulder, gasping for air, cold sweat beading on his forehead. The flood of forcibly awakened memories had slammed into his mind with unbearable pain, as if his brain might explode from the sheer force.
It took a long while before the agony gradually receded.
The night was pitch black, illuminated only by scattered lanterns. Hoarsely, Su Ning asked, “How long was I unconscious?”
“Four hours,” Su Nan replied. “I think we’re surrounded. The Elders’ Council has launched a counterattack. The signal’s been cut. I can’t get in touch with anyone outside.”
Su Ning rubbed his tired brow and waved dismissively, unbothered by the news. He staggered to his feet and began walking toward the exit. Seeing this, Su Nan quickly draped a coat over his shoulders.
Someone asked, “Brother Ning, what do we do about the cemetery? And where are we supposed to find the ancestor’s reincarnation?”
Su Ning glanced at the shattered tombstone, his mouth twitching in frustration. He recalled his earlier bold declaration and felt his breath hitch. He took a deep breath, struggling to compose himself, but it was no use. Gritting his teeth, he finally growled out, “Clean up the mess… and then… turn my office into an ancestral hall!”
“Ah??” The others looked at him in confusion.
Of course, no one could comprehend Su Ning’s utter disbelief at the irony of the situation. His own words had come back to bite him, and the sheer absurdity was suffocating.
Worst of all, his father and mentor were clearly standing right there, fully aware of his identity. But instead of revealing the truth, they were enjoying his predicament, watching with keen amusement as he floundered!
At that moment, Su Ning suddenly recalled something—wasn’t it he who had personally spilled the secret to his father about his unique method of continuing the family line?
Damn!
Su Ning’s footsteps faltered. His hoarse voice was firm and commanding as he ordered, “After we deal with that useless Elder Council, make sure I don’t meet with my… great-grandfather anytime soon. And don’t let any information about me leak out!”
This kind of social death, he needed time to process it.
“Oh, got it.” Su Nan responded.
Once Su Ning had settled everything, he finally steadied his emotions. Fortunately, there was still time to remedy the situation. As long as he pretended his memories hadn’t fully returned, he could also act like that mortifying moment had never happened.
As for his brainless descendants…
Easily taken care of.
Thinking this, he let out a cold snort and once again resumed his swift and decisive command presence. Leading Su Nan and the others, he strode forward with an imposing aura. “Open the gate,” he instructed his trusted aide coolly.
The tension in the air tightened. Everyone knew that the Elder Council was stationed outside, their forces lying in wait, eager for a bloody battle for power to begin.
The massive gate slowly swung open.
Su Ning flexed his wrist, casting an icy gaze at the worthless bunch before him, ready for a ruthless purge.
The clan members had all been cornered outside the restricted grounds. The four elders, bound and kneeling like quails, looked pitiful. Meanwhile, a tall and elegant figure was seated leisurely on a chair, sipping tea. At his side, another man lounged lazily against the chair, both watching Su Ning’s entrance with unhurried composure, waiting for him to make his move.
Upon seeing that familiar face, Su Ning’s expression, previously brimming with killing intent, froze.
Instinctively, he wanted to draw closer to that person. But the sheer terror of social death made him immediately recoil, even sparking a desperate urge to feign ignorance as a means of escaping reality.
It was useless.
Su Weisheng eyed Su Ning’s futile struggle with an amused, half-smiling gaze. He tapped a finger against the table, his tone light and effortless. “Come here, little one.”
Su Ning: “……”
