Ancestral Hall

“Liu Chengjun is the source of his fear. Liu Feiyu is the source of his fear. The Liu family’s power structure is the source of his fear. When there are too many sources of fear, the only solution he sees is to obtain power strong enough to crush everything.”

Santai blinked.

“That’s why he accepted Astaroth’s contract.”

“Exactly. When someone driven by fear gains power beyond what he can bear, there is only one possible ending.”

Southern Dipper raised a finger.

“Self-destruction.”

The swinging of Santai’s feet came to a stop.

“Then what if he wasn’t afraid?”

“Someone who isn’t afraid would never make a contract with a demon god.”

Southern Dipper answered without hesitation.

“The essence of a demon god’s contract is trading one’s soul for courage. Only those terrified to the very limit would need such a bargain.”

“That sounds so miserable.”

Santai pouted.

“Did he really have no choice from the beginning?”

“He had a choice.”

Southern Dipper shook his head. “But he chose fear, and so he lost.”

There was more he did not say. Liu Xiao’s defeat had been inevitable.

So long as that legendary demon god remained alive, so long as humanity did not produce some peerless genius capable of suppressing the ages, the other demon gods would never have even the slightest chance to reveal themselves before the world. This was an eternal rule of the world.

But there was no need to tell Santai any of that yet. It was beyond her reach for now.

Santai lay facedown on the desk, tracing circles on its surface with one finger. “Southern Dipper, you really are so cold when you talk.”

“I’m only stating the facts.”

“Can’t facts be a little gentler?”

“Facts have no temperature.”

Santai huffed and buried her face in her arms, muttering in a muffled voice,

“People aren’t data.”

She regretted Liu Xiao’s death. Back then, she had been the one hired by Liu Chengjun—only to withdraw midway through the operation, along with a million others.

At the time, Beidou had told her about the connection between the Liu family and the Origin Group. That was why she had pulled out.

After that, she had kept an eye on Liu Xiao, watching him struggle to survive in the cracks.

Spring was almost here, yet he had still died. He had escaped one fatal calamity after another, only to die before spring arrived.

Southern Dipper did not respond. He turned back to face the screen and tapped a few keys, bringing up a new file.

Then the third person, who had remained silent the entire time, finally spoke.

“Are you two done talking yet?”

The voice came from the corner of the room by the wall, lazy and edged with impatience.

Chen Beixuan lounged halfway back in a folding chair, his long legs crossed and propped atop a cardboard box beside him, his hands tucked behind his head. His shirt hung half open, and he looked for all the world as though he were on vacation at the beach.

Santai lifted her head.

“Kongchen, you’re still awake? I thought you’d fallen asleep ages ago.”

“You two have been making noise right next to my ears for half an hour. If I could sleep through that, I’d be dead.”

Chen Beixuan lowered his legs from the box and sat up straight. “Southern Dipper, you didn’t call me here just to listen to the two of you chat, did you?”

Southern Dipper turned his chair around. “Of course not.”

“There’s still one problem left unresolved. I need your help.”

Santai perked up, springing upright from the desk. Her earlier sadness vanished at once, replaced by eager curiosity.

“What problem?”

“Astaroth made such a huge commotion in the human world. Even if the ritual was ultimately disrupted, the amount of information exposed in the process is frightening enough.”

“But that’s not what really concerns me.”

“It’s that little probe. Outside the story we already know, there are other people involved.”

“So the question we’re facing is this: who exactly wants to learn of our existence?”

……

Meanwhile, Chen Guan went alone to meet Yin Tianzheng.

When he arrived at the entrance to the Yin family’s ancestral residence, no one tried to stop him. Everyone knew that Chen Guan was an honored guest of the Yin family.

“Little fellow, how are you feeling?”

The moment Yin Tianzheng saw Chen Guan, he stopped rolling his walnuts and immediately pulled over a chair for him.

Yin Tianzheng’s tea room was small. Old calligraphy and paintings hung on all four walls, while a Yixing teapot sat on the table. The tea had just been brewed, and wisps of steam curled from the spout.

“Sit, sit. Don’t be shy.”

Yin Tianzheng pushed a teacup toward Chen Guan, then took the seat opposite him and casually picked up the pair of walnuts from the corner of the table, rolling them in his palm.

Chen Guan lifted the cup with his right hand and took a sip, but did not hurry to speak.

Yin Tianzheng spoke first instead. “I’ve heard the medical team’s report about that arm of yours. Demonic corruption—and not a minor case, either.”

“Mm.”

“Among the people I trust absolutely, the strongest life-element user is only at the sixth rank. Treating corruption of this level would be difficult. Do you have another option?”

“Someone has helped me get in touch with a tenth-rank life-element user.”

Yin Tianzheng’s hands paused for a moment as he rolled the walnuts, then resumed their steady rhythm. “A tenth-rank user? That’s more than enough. Now this old man can rest easy.”

Yin Tianzheng nodded, set the walnuts on the table, and wrapped both hands around his teacup as he looked at Chen Guan, waiting for him to get to the point.

He knew perfectly well that this young man had not come all the way to the Yin family’s ancestral residence just to drink tea, chat, and report that he was safe.

Chen Guan set down his teacup.

“Elder Yin, you once promised me something. You said that you owed me a favor, and that I could ask to collect it whenever I wished.”

Yin Tianzheng leaned back in his chair, resting both hands on the armrests. The smile on his face only grew wider. “Of course I remember. Yin Tianzheng always keeps his word. Let alone one favor—even ten would be fine.”

Chen Guan got straight to the point. “I want to take a look at your family’s ancestral shrine.”

Yin Tianzheng’s hands stopped moving completely. At the same time, his mind came to a complete halt.

“The ancestral shrine?”

“That’s right.”

“Student Chen, why would you be interested in the Yin family’s ancestral shrine?”

Yin Tianzheng was baffled. He would not have found it strange if Chen Guan had made an outrageous demand, but this… could barely be called a modest one.

And the direction of the request was strange as well. What was there to see in a pile of broken memorial tablets? They were nothing more than a spiritual anchor to the descendants of the family.

Yin Tianzheng shook his head. “Although the Yin family’s ancestral shrine isn’t exactly a secret location, it isn’t somewhere just anyone can enter, either. The ancestral rules are clear: outsiders entering the shrine…”

He looked troubled.

“You’re the head of the family. Ancestral rules are dead, while the people who come after them are alive.”

“That’s true in principle.”

Yin Tianzheng rose to his feet and paced twice around the tea room. With his hands clasped behind his back, he walked to the window and gazed at the old locust tree in the courtyard.

“You really are something, child.”

Yin Tianzheng shook his head. His fingers reached for the pair of walnuts on the table again, rubbing them together twice before he finally let out a sigh.

“Fine. I’ll take you there.”

Chen Guan stood up. “Thank you, Old Master.”

Yin Tianzheng took a coat from the rack and draped it over his shoulders. He pushed open the door to the tea room, and the night wind rushed in at once.

“Come with me.”

The two of them walked through the corridors of the Yin family’s ancestral residence. Underfoot lay paths paved with bluestone, while dim yellow lanterns hung on either side.

After passing through a moon gate, the architectural style suddenly changed. Gone was the renovated appearance of the front courtyard. In its place stood gray-tiled roofs, white walls, and wooden structures. The paint on the beams and pillars had peeled and flaked with age, exposing the blackened wood grain beneath.

Yin Tianzheng stopped before a heavy wooden door and took out a bronze key.

“The Yin family ancestral hall was built one thousand four hundred and thirty years ago. It has been renovated several times since, but nothing inside was ever altered. Even when it was relocated, it was rebuilt exactly as it had been.”

He inserted the key into the lock. With a click, the bronze padlock sprang open.