Chương 119: When the Eldest Falls

"Houtu Sect?" The name fell from Huaijin's lips like a stone dropped into still water. Ripples of shock spread through the hall, plunging everyone present into absolute silence. Huaijin and Zhang Chongwen exchanged a glance, both saw the same disbelief mirrored in each other's eyes. In the Tang Kingdom, there was only one sect that possessed Nascent Soul Realm experts: The Guheng Sect. It had dominated the kingdom's cultivation landscape for nearly three thousand years.

But before the Guheng Sect rose to power, the reigning Nascent Soul sect had been the Houtu Sect. This was common knowledge, a fact known to every cultivator in the Tang Kingdom. Yet the mere mention of "Houtu" sent the imagination spiraling. Could this golden crystal have ties to the legendary sect that had crumbled millennia ago? After all, it was only after the Houtu Sect's decline that the Guheng Sect had seized its place at the apex of power.

"We end this matter here." Huaijin's voice cut through the tension, sharp and final.

"Your family's request is clear to me now. I can make this promise: within twenty years, your Yang Family will receive a Foundation Establishment Pill." Zhang Chongwen remained silent beside him, letting his grandson speak with the full authority of the family.

"Thank you, Senior!" Yang Jing's voice cracked with emotion, tears streaming down his weathered face. The words from Huaijin seemed to drain the very life from him, all the desperate hope, the years of anxious waiting, the crushing weight of his family's expectations. His body sagged, and he collapsed to the ground, suddenly looking frail and broken.

"What are you all standing there for?" Zhang Chongwen barked at the Yang Family attendants who lingered frozen in the doorway.

"Take your patriarch home and let him rest!" Jolted from their stupor, the Yang clansmen scrambled forward. They carefully lifted Yang Jing and hurried away from Green Bamboo Mountain, their figures disappearing down the winding path. The main hall fell quiet. Only Zhang Chongwen and Huaijin remained.

"Huaijin," Zhang Chongwen asked, his voice low.

"Are you certain you can do this?"

"Within twenty years, I will reach the Late stages," Huaijin replied, his tone carrying absolute conviction.

"I have full confidence in my advancement to Tier 2, upper grade Alchemist. As for the primary ingredients for the Foundation Establishment Pill, I know where to find them. You have my word." Zhang Chongwen had never once doubted his grandson's promises. Every claim he had ever made, every goal he'd set, he had accomplished. It was Huaijin who had single-handedly forged the Zhang Family's current prosperity, pulling them from obscurity to prominence.

Sometimes, Zhang Chongwen couldn't help but wonder if his grandson was some great master reborn, a reincarnated immortal walking among them. His cultivation speed was unnatural. His mastery of every cultivation art was unparalleled. His combat prowess was terrifying. Even someone blessed with a Spirit Body wouldn't be able to match such a meteoric rise!... Huaijin took his leave and returned to Purple Cloud Peak, entering seclusion while awaiting word from Zhang Hanren.

But as days turned into weeks, and weeks into two full months, his heart slowly sank into darkness. Still no word. No message. No sign of life. The outcome was becoming painfully clear. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Then, one afternoon, a sudden restlessness seized him, a nameless dread that clenched around his chest. The message talisman in his palm flared to life, its paper curling and blackening at the edges as a voice emerged.

"Huaijin... Hanren has passed away in meditation." Zhang Chongwen's voice was heavy with exhaustion, the words scraping out like gravel.

"I understand." He had braced himself for this. He had known, in his gut, that the silence was its own answer. But hearing the confirmation spoken aloud, that was a different kind of wound. His vision blurred, and he blinked rapidly, swallowing the sting in his throat. The talisman had already crumbled to ash in his palm. He sighed, a long, shuddering breath, and rose to his feet. With Zhang Rende by his side, he mounted Haihu and rode toward Green Bamboo Mountain.

In Langya County, Zhang Lixian received the same news. Though he was a cultivator, long accustomed to the cycles of life and death, there was no shield against the grief of burying one's own child. The old watching the young pass into oblivion, that was a wound no cultivation could heal. Su Xuiqi had fainted countless times, her face swollen from weeping. Zhang Yunli stayed by her side, offering silent comfort, her own eyes red-rimmed.

Within half a day, the Zhang Family cultivators from every corner of the land converged on Green Bamboo Mountain. They came in silence, their faces pale, their steps heavy. Zhang Hanren was no ordinary family member. He was born in the family's most desperate days, he had been the eldest of the third-generation children. Now, that third generation formed the backbone of the Zhang Family's strength. Every single one of them had, at some point, been guided, supported, or saved by Zhang Hanren's steady hand.

And his bloodline was deeply entwined with the family's leadership: his father, his younger brothers, his uncles, all were Foundation Establishment Realm cultivators. For someone with such connections, such standing, to fail at the crucial threshold... For the Zhang Family, it was a thunderclap from a clear sky. Huaijin arrived with Zhang Rende in tow. The boy still had no idea what had happened, he was too young to understand the somber silence that had descended upon Green Bamboo Mountain.

But the moment he saw his mother draped in white mourning garments, saw the grief carved into every face around him... He froze, as though struck by lightning.

"Grandfather, Father..." Huaijin's voice was low, controlled.

"Did my brother leave anything behind?" Zhang Chongwen's face was drawn and pale. Slowly, he withdrew a letter from his sleeve.

"Hanren failed in his attempt to reach the Foundation Establishment Realm," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"His meridians shattered. He... he died instantly. This was found in his meditation chamber." His eyes were clouded with an emotion too complex to name, grief, anger, pride, heartbreak, all tangled together. No one could say whether Zhang Hanren's choice had been right or wrong. To his family, it was a selfish decision, a reckless gamble that had cost them someone irreplaceable. But to Zhang Hanren himself, he had followed his heart. And he had died without regret.

The letter had already been read by everyone present before Huaijin's arrival. Now, Zhang Chongwen handed it to him. Huaijin's eyes moved across the familiar handwriting: [Father, Grandfather, Second Uncle, Linghui, Huaijin… When you read this letter, I will already be gone. You may think my decision was reckless. Perhaps it was. But I have no regrets. I refused to lie on my deathbed when I was old and frail, looking back on a life spent in fear, realizing I never even had the courage to try. I knew the chances were slim. But there was still a chance, what if I was the one destined to succeed?] Despite the heaviness in his chest, a faint smile tugged at Huaijin's lips. Even at the end, his brother's spirit remained unbroken. [Foundation Establishment Realm is no joke. Tell the younger generations: without an unshakable Dao Heart and a will of iron, don't even think about attempting it alone. I failed. My meridians are torn to shreds. The spiritual energy around me was too violent, too chaotic, I couldn't tame it.] A smear of dried blood stained the page at this point, a grim testament to his final struggle. [I failed. But I have no regrets. Huaijin don't forget your original purpose, your first vow. Walk the path of cultivation without wavering, without looking back. And when you reach the peaks I never could... see the higher views for both of us.] Huaijin's eyes burned.

He blinked hard, but a single tear escaped, tracing a warm line down his cheek. [Huaijin, take care of them for me. I've wronged them because of my selfish choice. Tell them I'm sorry. Tell Rende and Linhui that I'm so sorry.] The letter ended there. And in that moment, everything clicked into place for Huaijin. He understood now. When Zhang Rende had been found to possess a Three-Spirit Root and was entrusted to his care, Zhang Hanren had already been wrestling with this decision.

Everyone around him had reached Foundation Establishment Realm. The family had no Foundation Establishment Pill to spare for him, and he was rapidly approaching the lifespan limit of sixty. Beyond sixty, the chance of successfully establishing a foundation would plummet to near-zero. Zhang Hanren didn't want to live with the weight of a question he had never dared to ask. And he had already secured his legacy, his son had a Three-Spirit Root.

With the family's current momentum, Zhang Rende had a genuine chance to reach Foundation Establishment Realm one day. So in his final moments, Zhang Hanren had felt no regret at all. But his passing cast a pall of grief over the entire Zhang Family. Green Bamboo Mountain was enveloped in white, mourning banners fluttered from every eave, and the wails of family members echoed through the valleys.