Chapter 36: My Name Is Yun Che

Cloud? Xiao Che staggered, a momentary shock rippling through him. On the Cangyun Continent, his master had given him the surname Yun as well—how utterly fantastical a coincidence.

"Beyond knowing that your biological father’s surname is Yun, I know nothing of his other details—his name, his origin. Your father, Xiao Ying, was someone I met during my travels across the Proud Cloud Continent years ago. When your father was attacked by a powerful mystical beast, Xiao Ying rescued him. Afterward, they traveled together, their hearts in harmony, and when they parted, they swore brotherhood as unrelated kin."

Xiao Lie tilted his head slightly, as if recalling past scenes, his voice tinged with nostalgia: "When Xiao Ying returned, he spoke of your father with unceasing praise, declaring him not only handsome and bold but also a true dragon among men, gifted beyond measure. At that time, Xiao Ying’s talents were unmatched in the Flow Cloud City, yet he humbly admitted that before your father, his own abilities were utterly insignificant… I once questioned him about his cultivation level, but he merely smiled and said, 'If I said it, you wouldn’t believe me anyway.'"

"As for my son’s temperament, I know him best. He never speaks falsehoods. Your father was, without doubt, a supreme genius, his mystical energy already reaching a realm few could fathom at such a young age. Yet this dragon among men chose to bond with Xiao Ying, whose mystical energy was then but meager—his magnanimity and grace were profound."

"Later, Xiao Ying married and sired a child. Two months after his son’s birth, he encountered your mother."

At these words, Xiao Lie’s emotions shifted visibly. Xiao Che held his breath, silent as the grave.

"...At that time, your parents were drenched in blood, cradling you—also drenched in blood—in their arms. You were but two months old, unconscious in your mother’s embrace. Xiao Ying barred their entry, carrying them to a hidden sanctuary. They were riddled with wounds, their mystical energy nearly exhausted… They stayed only moments before insisting on leaving, for the pursuers were too formidable, even the Flow Cloud City itself unable to withstand them. Remaining would only burden Xiao Ying."

"Xiao Ying could not keep them. He knew their family could not match such foes, nor did he have the strength to protect them. From their eyes, he saw their unwavering resolve to flee—clearly, they had reached the point of no return, having long ceased to hope for survival. So, using the pretext of embracing you, he quietly placed his own son—my grandson—into the bloodstained swaddling cloth, hiding you within his child’s embrace."

Xiao Che’s eyes flickered violently. Xiao Lingxi let out a choked cry, "Ah!"

"...When your parents left, having clutched the securely guarded infant, they had no time to scrutinize whether the child was theirs. After Xiao Ying departed, he sought me out, kneeling before me to beg forgiveness. He said, 'I am young. Losing a son—I could have more. But if you perish, my brother, your father, would be forever severed from his lineage. No one would avenge him.'"

"Though my heart bled with pain, I could not fault him. For such a son, bound by such profound affection and duty, how could I reproach him? Thus, only we—the father and son—knew that my grandson had become you. Your two-month-old body, wounded, took half a month to stabilize. Your meridians were damaged, clearly from that trauma. In such a cataclysmic pursuit, your injuries spared your life—how merciful."

Xiao Lie’s voice faltered, his face etched with suppressed anguish, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles whitened: "Less than a month later, Xiao Ying was assassinated, his meridians shattered, his life extinguished. When I arrived upon hearing the news, he clutched my hand and whispered, 'The assassin who killed me… he came to question me about your parents’ whereabouts. The man claimed he’d seen Xiao Ying sheltering a bloodied couple and infant. The assassin sought to extract your parents’ escape route.' As his final breath left him, he smiled, for the assassin’s words at least confirmed your parents had not been found—perhaps they still lived!"

"...Xiao Che’s heart surged with an ocean of unspoken waves, his eyes fixed on Xiao Lie’s prematurely white hair. Grief, unbearable and raw, tore through him—grief for lost children, lost wives. No one knew, not even his sole grandson, his last bloodline, had been severed. Beneath his knees lay a child whose life had been traded for another’s—a cruel irony. No wonder he’d aged prematurely… Such a chain of calamities, such a storm of sorrow—ordinary hearts would have shattered, or worse, perished."

Xiao Che’s sorrow deepened, realizing the architect of this tragedy was himself.

Had he not truly exchanged the life of the real Xiao Che for his own, Xiao Ying would not have been slain. His wife would not have died by his side. Xiao Lie’s wife would not have withered in despair. Xiao Ying’s son would not have been a laughingstock, a useless husk. Their family would have remained whole, their days filled with joy. In the sect’s hierarchy, Xiao Ying’s unparalleled talents and his father’s legendary mystical energy and reputation would have elevated him to the highest ranks—perhaps even sect leader. Xiao Lie would not have been mocked, but revered, his status unchallenged. The other four elders would not have dared oppress him, but crouch like mice before him…

Xiao Ying had sacrificed his own son to save him—yet he, and his entire family, had endured such exquisite torment.

Yet for sixteen years, Xiao Lie had never unleashed his fury or resentment toward this "architect of calamity." Instead, he had shown him boundless, untrammeled love—even knowing his meridians were shattered, his days as a cultivator ended, he remained as tender as ever. Perhaps a grandfather’s love for his biological grandson is natural. But for another’s child, the progenitor of his family’s ruin, such devotion required a heart vast enough to embrace both love and duty…

Xiao Che’s heart trembled, his nose running with unshed tears. A father’s son, a son’s grandson—how could such a magnanimous elder not have sired such a devoted child? Yet they owed their lives to their ancestors, a debt no mortal could repay. Xiao Che’s hands clenched the stone table’s edge, fingers tightening. Gazing at Xiao Lie’s sorrowful visage, he could not fathom how to express his gratitude for the decades of love. After a long pause, his voice cracked: "Grandfather, I… I… your kindness, I will—"

"Hmph," Xiao Lie smiled gently, his voice soft with affection: "My child, you grew up under my care. Though not by blood, you are my true grandson in heart. You once said, 'Though we lack blood, we are forever family.' If we are family, these things are owed. I need no gratitude or repayment. As long as you live well, I need not cling to this world, even if I remain here forever."

Xiao Che’s mouth fell silent, his gratitude unspoken. After a moment, he bowed deeply. Indeed, he was his grandfather—now, and always. When he was alive, he would honor him; when gone, he would wear his mourning, fulfill every duty a grandson could.

Seeing him, Xiao Lie nodded, his expression relieved. He continued: "The past—if you wish to know more. But about your parents, Xiao Ying spoke little. As to why they were pursued, he said only that they carried a 'Mystical Heavenly Treasure,' and that the words 'Mystical Heavenly Treasure' were a terrible taboo, never to be spoken in the presence of outsiders."

Mystical Heavenly Treasure? Xiao Che memorized the name.

"After your parents departed, no word reached them in the following sixteen years. I longed to believe they’d return, having discovered the child they’d taken was not their own, and would come at the right time to reclaim their son. But year after year, they never came. Yet this does not prove they are dead… The pendant around your neck—I’ve worn it since childhood, never to be removed. It was the sole item left on you after Xiao Ying exchanged his son for you. Should your parents still live, it may serve as proof of your reunion."

Indeed, if they lived, they would return to the Flow Cloud City to reclaim their child. But sixteen years had passed… Their survival seemed nearly impossible.

Yet if they were still alive, might their son—Xiao Ying’s heir—also endure?

The night deepened, nearing the time when the Star-Obscured Grass would fail. It was time for Xiao Che to depart.

"Grandfather, cousin… I must leave." Though reluctant, he forced the words from his throat.

Xiao Lie nodded, glancing outward: "Leave swiftly. If they discover you here, it will bring great trouble."

"Ah? You’re leaving?" Xiao Lingxi gasped, her hands gripping his tightly.

Feeling her desperate eyes, Xiao Che’s heart ached. He yearned to take Xiao Lie and Xiao Lingxi with him, but how could he? Outside, the world held no protection for them. They were the ones safeguarding him.

He rose, clasping Xiao Lingxi’s hand, meeting her gaze, and spoke slowly, letter by letter: "My lady, I must go… but trust me. Within three years, I will return. Then I will repay tenfold the suffering and pain you’ve endured. I will make the entire Xiao Sect kneel and beg you to leave this Strait of Regret!"