As soon as Chu Chensheng departed, Gu Qingli plopped onto the grass with a soft thud, her tiny frame visibly relaxing. She wiped the cold sweat from her forehead with her chubby little jade-like hands, a lingering fear still flickering in her eyes.
"You little imp, quite the bold one, aren't you? And now you finally know what fear feels like?"
Dongfang Kunlun let out a hearty laugh as he scooped her up into his arms.
Gu Qingli pouted, clearly exasperated. "Master, are you trying to send me to an early grave? That guy's strength is leagues beyond mine!"
"But you still emerged victorious, didn't you? Your master is beyond proud," Dongfang Kunlun replied with a warm chuckle. "Still, that boy Chensheng has not had it easy. He's endured much hardship. With a blood-deep vendetta over his mother's death weighing on him, to reach such strength at the age of eight—it's not mere talent, but grit and relentless effort."
"What happened to his mother? Doesn't he still have his father?" Gu Qingli's curiosity was mirrored on the faces of the others as they turned to Dongfang Kunlun for answers.
Gu Qingli found it hard to imagine that the haughty and arrogant Chu Chensheng had such a sorrowful past. She had thought him to be a pampered young master, untouched by the cruelties of life.
Dongfang Kunlun merely shook his head. "If fate allows you to cross paths again, perhaps you may ask him yourself." With that, he turned his attention to the rest of the young disciples.
"Your performance today was commendable. Though you sustained injuries, you must not let fear take root. Continue your training in the Demonic Forest for a few more days. Should such dangers arise again, you must not act with such recklessness."
In front of his disciples, Dongfang Kunlun's demeanor shifted into stern authority.
His sharp, solemn expression served as a sobering reminder to all the young cultivators.
"Well then, I'll be off. Continue your training, and stay vigilant!"
Gu Qingli waved her pudgy little hand at the young cultivators from Kunlun City in farewell.
By now, Ouyang Qian had already awoken and was anxiously waiting in the courtyard.
Gu Qingli simply explained that all her abilities had been passed down from Dongfang Kunlun, who had secretly begun training her long ago.
Ouyang Qian, of course, believed her without hesitation.
As the sky gradually darkened, the great Demonic Forest beyond Loulan City fell into pitch-black silence.
Meanwhile, within the Gu Clan's ancestral hall, the clan head Gu Yifeng sat with a grave expression in the seat of honor. The five grand elders on either side mirrored his solemnity. The entire Gu household was on high alert, the air heavy with tension, and the younger members dared not speak out of turn.
The eight coiling dragon pillars of yellow jade that lined the great hall—rarely lit—now burned brightly with flame-headed torches, casting a brilliant glow that banished every shadow. The ceremony was clearly meant to honor an esteemed guest whose name had echoed through the ages for centuries.
"Clan Head, Master Kunlun has arrived at the street's end," a guard rushed in to report, though his expression held a trace of peculiar astonishment.
Gu Yifeng rose immediately, his robes billowing as he gave the command. "Come, we shall welcome Master Kunlun."
At his word, the four great elders fell in behind him, followed by a procession of junior clan members. Their numbers quickly swelled to nearly forty, a testament to the reverence they held for Dongfang Kunlun.
"Qingche, is it true that Master Kunlun has taken Qingli as his disciple?" came a youthful voice from the rear, belonging to a young lord of a branch family.
A girl's voice replied sourly, "I highly doubt it. What could that useless girl possibly have to offer someone like Master Kunlun?"
Gu Qingche frowned. "Watch your tongue."
As a direct descendant of the main bloodline, and gifted himself, Gu Qingche's words carried weight. The younger branch disciples immediately fell silent.
He cast a worried glance into the distance. He had always held genuine affection for Qingli, his younger cousin.
His brow furrowed. Over a month ago, he had watched helplessly as Qingli's family left the Gu household. The bitterness in his heart had not faded since. Never had he imagined his clan could be so cold. Qingli, after all, was a noble-born child of the direct line—only five years old. To cast her aside like that… did the elders of the Gu family possess no shred of compassion?
But he was still too young, his voice too faint to sway the elders. They had even forbidden him from visiting her.
At the grand gates of the Gu estate, dozens of pairs of eyes were fixed unwaveringly on the wide boulevard a few hundred meters ahead. There, walking toward them, was a tall, elegant man—his figure like jade sculpted by heaven—cradling in his arms a delicate little girl, their image perfectly harmonious.