Chương 3: Ancestor

Ren bolted upright instinctively, only to double over a second later, breath wheezing out between his lips.

"Hell," he couldn't help but blurt out, looking at the floating figure.

"Ancestor Lin, seriously? Now of all times? You scared the living shit out of me."

"Hehe," Ancestor Lin cackled loudly, "I woke up after such a long time, and instead of being grateful, are you complaining, brat? Little Guiren was right, you really resemble my younger days. Good, good. Hehehe…" Descending slowly, he smirked in self-mockery.

"Huh, I guess I forgot the sensation of walking." Ren stared at him in wonder. Even though his wide robe covered his body, considering how bloated it looked, Ancestor Lin should be frail, very frail. Saying a bag of bones wouldn't be an exaggeration. But his wrinkled face carried no hint of weakness, and instead glowed with vitality. His features were…

truly one of a kind: sharp eyes hidden beneath deep wrinkles, a nose like a hawk's beak, slim lips with a white beard over them, and sunken cheeks that somehow made him look more fatherly instead of stern. His mischievous smirk was the cherry on top. He looked nothing like those paintings. Heh, you show-off old man.

"It's an honor to resemble you, Ancestor. Please excuse my poor—""Enough formalities, enough. I didn't come all the way here just to hear your insincere and clumsy fawning," uttered Ancestor Lin, pointing a finger right at his heart.

"Don't try to portray yourself as someone you aren't, kid. It looks funny." Ren's fingers clenched briefly before he exhaled.

"Fine, what made you come here, then?"

"Don't ask what you already know. Also, what kind of descendant would make his ancestor stand in the backyard? And people say I am the eccentric one, but they don't know the new generation had long since outpaced the old, heh." Ancestor Lin said, patting him on the shoulder.

"The ones who lack time are us old fools, yet the young are the ones who rush through life. Ha! If irony were a fruit, the heavens must be handing them out free nowadays."

"Isn't that the reason we rush? We have to prove ourselves… before you leave us behind." Ren smiled bitterly. It was a lesson he learned the hard way, and one he promised never to forget. Yet I never had that chance. What's the point of success if you're not there to witness it, Mother? Ancestor Lin stared at him in wonder, his lips twitching slightly. He then chuckled.

"Wise words, for someone who fought with the very foundation of the world without a thought. Let's go inside, kid. This antique set of bones remains firm still." Ren nodded absentmindedly. Passing through the wide corridor, Ancestor Lin admired every corner, every painting, his mouth never closing.

"Ah, I always wondered how this place never changed. Thousands of years passed, yet the painting of Sorrowful Maiden is still as beautiful as the first day I drew it." His finger traced across the painting's frame.

"You know its story, right? A fool immortal falling in love with a prideful mortal. Their time was endless yet also so fleeting." Ren stared at the girl clad in pure white robes sitting by a riverbank, one hand in water. Green mountains rose behind her, a clear sky above, and flowers. All kinds of white flowers surrounded her in an ethereal air. However, the peace was broken by a simple, little crimson line carved into her wrist.

"Heavens are always cruel," Ancestor Lin's eyes got lost in the painting.

"As simple men, we have to abide by its rules and live our lives in constant fear of it. Defying it? That's something only fools do. And don't forget Ren, fools are always short-lived. Always." He suddenly turned to Ren, a knowing smile on his lips.

"Then what's the meaning behind living long if you lose everyone you love, you will ask. And there's one simple answer to that. So simple that you might laugh in disbelief." Ren lifted his brows.

"Because people truly die only when the last person who carries their memory dies. Their legacy ends, their existence becomes nothing but a part in dusty history books no one reads. That, my young friend, is why we always resist the death's cold call." Ren's gaze remained fixed on the girl in the painting. Her eyes were hidden behind her golden hair, but a hint of a curve could be seen on her lips.

"What about all that power? Authority? Influence? Luxury? And all the other perks and benefits that came with it? Aren't they important?" he asked.

"For how long?" Ancestor Lin smirked in disdain.

"Five years? Ten? Hundred? No matter how good they are at the start, they will be boring after a while. Every desire fades, kid. But memories? They will always stay, because they are what makes you who you are." He turned away from the painting and started walking deeper into the corridor.

"Ancestor." Ren's question stopped him, but only enough to make him turn halfway.

"Hmm?" Ren's throat felt dry. He couldn't tear his gaze away from the painting. He asked, voice no different than a whisper.

"What if you don't have anyone to carry their memory? What if… it doesn't matter anymore?" For a long moment, Ancestor Lin said nothing. Only the faint sound of distant wind echoed through the corridor. Then he chuckled softly. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

"It always does, young friend, it always does." But just as Ren thought the old man would leave it at that, he suddenly spoke again, "You see that girl in the painting?" his voice came out distant. Ren's eyes narrowed. Her pale wrist, stained with a thin crimson line, became more and more glaring.

"Everyone in this sect… thinks she was just a mortal woman who fell for a foolish immortal. A tale told for years. A symbol of what? Pride? Defiance? Regret?" He exhaled deeply.

"But they never ask who she really was."

"Who?" Ancestor Lin's eyes darkened.

"I don't know. But that fool immortal… wasn't me." Ren's heart skipped a beat. He waited for him to continue. Explain who that fool was. Yet Ancestor Lin turned back briskly.

"Ancestor? Who was she?" he asked again. But Ancestor Lin's steps only quickened.

"Never mind, treat it as a senile old man's empty ramblings. I guess years of silence are finally catching up to me," he grumbled.

"Go make me tea, brat. My throat is killing me." Bloody bastard, if you don't finish up, why did you even bother to tell?! Ren pressed his lips together. And you didn't answer my question properly as well. Are you playing with me? Gritting his teeth, he forced back the urge to curse. He still wanted to live, after all. …

"Ahh, yes, this wonderful taste," Ancestor Lin murmured under his breath, plopping into a leather chair that seemed too big for him. He put down his cup and pointed Ren to refill. Ren's eye twitched.

"That was all, Ancestor." He showed the empty teapot. And I even brewed enough tea fit for a family of five. Is this what you meant by desire fades?

"Hah? Already empty? Hehe, well, it was a good tea, kid. Must be something new." Ancestor Lin broke into a smile before he waved for Ren to sit.

"Now, I think we can talk about serious matters. Let's see. My unruly disciple said your foundation broke because of an assassination attempt outside the sect." Ren sat across from another chair, this one smaller, all ears as Ancestor Lin.

"Normally, you can't fix a broken foundation no matter what you do. Even Ascendants are powerless because only the heavens can breathe life into spiritual roots. But—" Face hardening, Ancestor Lin's ordinary old man air disappeared without warning. A pressure as heavy as mountains pressed on Ren's shoulders. He didn't even have time to react before he found himself on the floor, kneeling.

"You don't have spiritual roots, too, young friend. That's not something others touch, and the soul is ill at ease within the body, yet it's not like possession. Even other old monsters can't trick this one's eyes. So tell me, what truly happened?" I— can't breathe… Ren wanted to hold his throat, or struggle at least, but his body refused cooperation. The newly soothed ache in his chest flared to life, as if he wasn't suffering enough.

Desperately lifting his eyes, he saw the emotionless darkness in Ancestor Lin's gaze. It was deep and unforgiving. If I can't convince him… I'm gonna really die! His lips parted slightly.

"I-I don't… know."

"That's not the answer I wanted. Why did your body refuse your soul? How can you still sense spiritual energy without spiritual roots? These are dangerous questions, kid. Dangerous even for someone like me." Creaking sounds rose from his bones as the pressure heightened. Yet it also triggered something carved into those bones. Something unfamiliar.

"I said… I— I don't know!" he said, his eyes burned with a deep fire, and he refused to break eye contact despite the pressure forcing him to bow down.

"If… If you want to question me," all the remaining oxygen in his lungs hissed out, "awake the ancestral hall, and use the Grand Scale, alright?!" The world darkened briefly, his consciousness on the verge of slipping out. Then, a moment later, the pressure disappeared as if it wasn't even real. He collapsed immediately, his mouth greedily devouring generous amounts of air.

"Heh, there's no need for that, brat. It was just a simple test. Go, brew another pot, my throat is parched." Ancestor Lin's voice reached his ears. Carefree. Callous, even. Ren didn't know how, but he forced his body to rise. With every little movement, muscles he wasn't even aware of before ached furiously. Still, he nodded with a twisted face.

"As you wish, Ancestor." Holding his leg, he stumbled along, barely reaching the door. He searched for somewhere, something to hold onto, his hand sweeping on the door until it stopped clenching the handle as his palm erupted in imaginary fire. Don't do it. He tried to twist the handle. It didn't budge. Or maybe he didn't want to. He didn't know; his hand felt distant for him to control. Don't. Do. It. One more time. Don't. The door remained still. Do not repeat the same mistakes. His breath felt shallow. Too hot.

It burned his cold lips. A tiny hint of black quietly crept into his eyes.

"Ancestor." His hand paused.

"Next time, if you wish to learn something," words flowed out of his mouth, cold. Detached.

"Hmm?" His head turned oh-so slightly, the old man's figure entering his sight from the very corner. It took all his willpower just not to glare at him.

"Just ask me. I got nothing to hide." A chuckle answered back.

"Have people ever said you are arrogant?"

"Never to my face," Ren uttered, a smile crawling its way to his face. The chuckle turned into full-burst laughter.

"Will do, kiddo, will do. Also, add this: it's good for the body. After all, corruption loves a frail vessel the most." He caught a pouch out of reflex, then the handle finally twisted. He rushed toward the kitchen. I think if I spend one more minute with him, I might just meet my maker… Taking out another teapot under the counter, Ren pushed a button-like rune. A fire sparked to life, and he put the filled teapot on it. While waiting for it to boil, he checked his body, starting with his aching chest. Seems like…

nothing is broken, he thought, biting his lips. But it still hurts like hell. Is this the generosity of older generations toward the juniors? I guess old monsters like him fit their descriptions. Resting his elbows on the counter, he grabbed his head with both hands.

"Fucking hell…" Fake it till you make it, huh? The oldest trick in the book always works… A wry chuckle escaped his lips. It was ironic, yes, but it was fine as long as it worked… right? Though what did he even test? My courage? And the talk of corruption? Hasn't my soul brother already taken care of it a long time ago? Ren couldn't help but curse at his soul brother for being such a defiant bastard. Daring to curse and even 'threatening' such a being? Only his soul brother could do such a suicidal move.

Nope, I'm no different. The water gurgled. He shot a look at it. A deep sigh parted his lips, and he straightened, pouring the remaining tea in the jar, then stared at the pouch. It was filled with clove-like dried stems. Interesting, it smells like bergamot. Does this world have them, too? As soon as he added them, the water shimmered, shifting into a deep lilac hue. The fragrance hit him— sharp, intoxicating, enough to make his body tremble.

In an instant, his pain faded, and his stiff muscles loosened into a deep relief. At least he is thoughtful, he thought, and pushed another button, fire fading into sparks. Still, he could ask questions without trying to break me. What if it traumatizes me? Heh, who am I kidding? Who cares about your 'little' traumas in a cultivation world? Ren grabbed the teapot and returned to the room, with a slight hesitation in his steps. As he neared the room, an odd noise tickled his ears. It almost sounded like…

"Snoring?" he murmured as he pushed the door open.

"Ancestor?" His eyes locked into the source: the old man had turned his robe into a blanket and snuggled into the sofa. Damn! And here I was thinking he seemed frail. This old man's lungs could power a steam train for months! Ren poured some tea for himself and sank into the chair. Well, it works for me. It seems there's no bullshit test for a while.