Fourth Brother, if you ask me, that spot for Second Brother’s family was never worth it. Young Master Han is right—our Huzi may be simple, but it is sturdy and steady. He might even encounter some opportunity,” Yun Che’s fifth uncle chimed in with a tone of regret, though a glint of amusement flickered in his eyes.

  Hearing this, Yun Han’s face grew smug, and he added fuel to the fire: “The path they chose is their own. Hit the wall, blame no one. My father and I warned them, but some people just don’t know their limits.”

  Yun Feng, standing beside him, looked uneasy and tried to speak: “Shitou, he—”

  Before he could finish, his father shot him a sharp glare. Yun Feng swallowed his words, sighed, and turned away.

  Yun Qingmo’s expression was cold as water as he scanned the room. His voice carried absolute authority: “This matter ends here! Anyone who mentions it again will answer to me! Che’er, you were not ready for the Immortal Sect; it is merely a matter of timing, not blame.” He then turned to Yun Che, softening slightly: “Shitou, don’t take it to heart. Even if the path of immortality is blocked, there are other ways. Go with Fourth Uncle and explore the world. The Jianghu is vast, and Fourth Uncle has connections in many sects. I planned to take Huzi to gain experience anyway; having you two together is perfect.”

  Yun Han sneered sharply: “Fourth Uncle’s idea is perfect! Shitou, go! Tell the sect master you are a ‘failure’ who couldn’t even pass Xuanshuang Sect’s trials. Maybe they’ll take pity and make an exception!”

  Yun Che, who had been like a statue, slowly lifted his head. Those jet-black eyes, once empty and lifeless, now burned with a cold, silent flame. He scanned the faces around him—mocking, indifferent, or gloating—and finally fixed his gaze on Yun Han’s malicious expression. His words came slowly, hoarse yet terrifyingly clear:

  “Yun Han, listen carefully. I, Yun Che, will one day enter the Immortal Sect again. Every humiliation today, every word of mockery you and your father cast on my parents—I… will remember it all.”

  Yun Han’s face darkened, about to retort, but Yun Qingmo stepped forward, eyes flashing with deadly intent. He glared at Yun Han and spoke low, full of menace: “Little brat! Say one more word and I’ll shatter your mind and turn you into a fool! Let’s see if your Immortal Master will accept a fool as a disciple!”

  Yun Tianhai’s face went pale. He yanked his son behind him, shouting, “Fourth Brother! How dare you!”

  The surrounding relatives gasped, but no one dared intervene, only observing this family clash.

  Yun Qingmo, enraged, laughed bitterly, exuding the aura of a seasoned fighter: “Oh? Big Brother, want to test me? Go ahead!”

  As the conflict reached its breaking point, Yun Chengshan hurried forward, holding his fourth brother back, voice trembling: “Qingmo! Listen to Second Brother! You still have your family—don’t risk it! Your intentions are clear, and Second Brother will remember. Let’s send them off. Go home.”

  Yun Qingmo cast a final glare at Yun Tianhai and his son, then snorted heavily. Guarding his grief-stricken sister-in-law and the terrifyingly silent nephew, he left the noisy, icy scene of disputes and faint mockery behind.

  The carriage bounced along the dirt road in silence. The only sound was the wheels crunching over stones.

  Yun Chengshan looked at his son’s pale profile, pain and disappointment intertwining in his chest. Finally, he exhaled deeply: “Shitou, it’s nothing serious. I was driven from home at your age—far worse than what you endure now—and yet I survived. Come home. If you want to study, I’ll provide; if not, travel with Fourth Uncle and see the world—it will do you good.”

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Yun Che’s mother held him tightly, tears silently streaming: “Shitou, you are my only son. Don’t think of anything reckless… I only want you safe. That’s more important than anything.”

  Feeling the warmth of his mother’s embrace, Yun Che’s nearly frozen heart cracked slightly. He lifted his head and looked at his worried, worn parents. In a calm, steady voice, he said, “Father, Mother, rest assured. I will not act rashly. I… have my plan.”

  These words did not ease their worry. Yet, cradled by his mother’s warmth and the gentle sway of the carriage, Yun Che, exhausted and battered after days of emotional torment, finally succumbed to sleep.

  He dreamt a fragmented dream: he soared with his parents over Xitou Village, past Qinglan City, into the endless sea of clouds. Their smiles were vivid under the sunlight…

  Late at night, Yun Che awoke in his familiar yet unfamiliar room. Moonlight streamed through the window, casting pale patches on the floor. His body ached, but something deep inside had settled and hardened.

  Silently, he rose, dressed, and stood outside his parents’ room for a long time, taking a deep look. Returning to his own room, he sat under the moonlight, prepared ink and paper, and wrote:

  "To my beloved parents:

  Your son, unworthy and shameful, has brought you grief. Yet the path of immortality is not closed; my spirit will not die. Today, I resolve to seek my fate again. I will not return without finding a path, even if it means no Immortal Sect will accept me.

  Do not worry; provisions will be secured.

  Your unfilial son, Yun Che, humbly bows and bids farewell."

  He carefully placed the letter under his pillow, wrapped the osmanthus candy from his mother close to himself, packed the remaining food and a set of old clothes, and quietly stepped into the cold night.

  Moonlight, like frost, covered the village road, stretching his shadow long and solitary.

  The path to becoming an immortal, he would not abandon. If the Xuanshuang Sect could not take him, another sect surely would! Even if no gate remains, he must see for himself the end of the “Path of Inquiry”!

  Three days later, Yun Che ventured alone into the desolate deep mountains. Following the vague directions he had painstakingly memorized, he pressed eastward. Thorns tore his pants, stones wore down his shoes, yet he barely noticed, constantly clearing branches and climbing upward.

  Seven days later, he reached the heart of the vast mountain range. Thanks to his lifelong skill in identifying plants, he avoided poison, insect nests, and wild beasts. That noon, after climbing a solitary peak, he finally glimpsed the familiar, towering main peak of the Xuanshuang Sect rising above the sea of clouds, faintly glowing with icy blue light.

  Hope and bitterness surged together. He sat on a rock, exhausted, eating hard rations washed down with spring water, eyes locked on the mist-shrouded sect.

  Just as he paused to find a route down and approach the sect’s outer perimeter—

  “Huff… huff…”

  A low, dangerous breathing sound, heavy with a pungent stench, came from behind.

  Yun Che’s hair stood on end. He spun around; his heart nearly stopped!

  A giant white tiger, far larger than normal, had silently approached within ten yards! Its crimson eyes locked on him, drool dripping from its jaws, making sharp sounds on the rocks, its killing intent fixed on him.

  No retreat, no evasion!

  A bitter, grim smile touched Yun Che’s lips. Without hesitation, as the white tiger lunged, he threw himself backward, resolutely plunging off the cliff behind him!

  The roaring wind tore at his body. Memories flashed—his parents’ tears, Yun Han’s mockery, the icy trials at Baqi Cliff, the blood on the Path of Inquiry…

  “Father, Mother… your son has failed…”

  Just as darkness threatened to engulf him, his body collided with dense branches jutting out mid-fall.

  Crack! Crack!

  Branches snapped, slowing his fall slightly but shredding his skin. Pain shot through his right arm. Amid the chaos, a massive, unnatural suction force suddenly pulled him from below, from a crevice in the cliff!

  Whoosh!

  Unable to resist, Yun Che was grabbed by the invisible force, veering off his fall path and crashing into a dim, vine-covered cave entrance. His back slammed against the stone wall, halting his descent.

  Cough… He spat blood, stars danced in his vision, and organs shifted painfully. His right arm throbbed with agony. Fighting the urge to pass out, he pushed himself up from the cold, damp floor.

  After a long while, the strange suction force finally subsided.

  The cave was pitch dark, with faint light coming only from the entrance. The air was cold and damp, filled with old dust and a subtle, indescribable antiquity.

  This was no ordinary beast’s den.

  Leaning against the wall, gasping, sweat mixing with blood soaking his torn clothes, Yun Che stared into the bottomless darkness of the cave. A weak, stubborn thought sparked within him, like a flickering candle in the wind:

  Could this extreme peril… conceal a sliver… of true opportunity?