Chapter 1810

A simple "long time no see," choked and hoarse, conveyed endless hardship, marking the passage of a full cycle, aging the years.

Xiong Er was stunned, staring blankly at Ye Chen, his charming little eyes wide and round, flickering with surprise.

"How is it? Don't recognize me?" Ye Chen said with a relaxed laugh.

"Am I still half-asleep?" Xiong Er scratched his head.

"Easy fix for that." Ye Chen stepped forward, rolled up his sleeves, and without another word, slapped him across the face.

The slap was crisp and clear. Xiong Er hadn't been half-asleep before, but Ye Chen's blow left him thoroughly dazed.

"Still out of it?" Ye Chen dusted off his hands, smiling faintly.

"Damn." Xiong Er let out a howl that shook heaven and earth, the word bursting with dominance.

"You idiot, what's wrong with you! Why are you howling first thing in the morning?"

"You jerk, didn't take your medicine? Step in dog shit?"

Xiong Er's yell set off a chain reaction, and the entire Heng Yue erupted in curses, one after another, creating a lively uproar.

Ye Chen covered his ears. After three years, the people of his homeland were still full of energy, cursing without even pausing for breath.

The most impressive was the one next to him—short in stature but with a voice that boomed over all the others.

"He's back, he's back, Ye Chen is back."

"Ye Chen?" Exclamations echoed through Heng Yue. People climbed to the peaks and descended the mountains; the outer sect elders and disciples all rushed into the inner sect.

In fact, everyone from Heng Yue Sect had come.

The crowd surged like streams converging at the base of Yu Nu Feng, forming an ocean that blanketed the ground.

When they saw Ye Chen, everyone's bodies trembled violently, their eyes bulged, their minds reeled, and they could hardly believe it.

In that instant, all the lively people turned into stone statues, staring in silence, no one uttering a word.

The world fell eerily quiet, the only sound the unified beat of hearts, like the pulse of the earth.

"Am I seeing this right?" Xie Yun stammered. "Or am I still dreaming?"

"That smug grin is just like Ye Chen's style." Situ Nan stroked his chin, his expression meaningful.

"Buddha is merciful, it's real, it's real." Long Wu and Long Yi rubbed their shiny bald heads, fully embracing their divine roles.

"Master, is that you?" Xi Yan trembled uncontrollably, her eyes brimming with tears, staring intently, afraid that in a blink, he would turn back into a distant memory, a fleeting illusion.

"Ye Chen, is that you?" Lin Shi Hua, Shangguan Yu Er, Bi You, Luo Xi, Liu Ru Yan, and Hao Tian Shi Yue all tensed up, their eyes tearful.

Everyone held their breath, unable to distinguish reality from illusion, hoping he would say it himself.

Ye Chen smiled through his tears, his voice choked. "Ye Chen is back."

Those words made everyone tremble again, as if struck by lightning. Their minds thundered, their expressions a mix of shock, confusion, excitement, bewilderment, and dizziness.

With that, everyone burst into tears, their eyes glistening, blurring their vision and their thoughts.

The mighty Shengzhu of the Tian Ting had finally returned, but he was still so weathered, cloaked in the dust of time.

"I knew Ye Chen would come back to marry Xi Yan." The young girl threw herself into his arms, hugging him tightly with all her strength, as if trying to merge him into herself. Her tears soaked his chest as she greedily listened to his heartbeat and breathed in his warmth.

"Easy there." Ye Chen laughed, though blood welled in his mouth. Xi Yan's grip was too strong; even his Gu Yi Sheng Ti couldn't handle it.

"He's back, he's back." His confidantes covered their mouths, tears streaming uncontrollably as they cried and laughed like madwomen, forgetting the passage of time.

"He's back, he's back." Yang Ding Tian and the others were overcome with emotion, tears streaming down their aged faces like children.

"He's back, he's back." Xie Yun and the disciples wiped away their tears and reached into their storage bags, pulling out weapons for a fight.

"Come on, Xi Yan, step aside." Xiong Er pushed forward, yanking Xi Yan away and swinging a stick at Ye Chen's head.

In an instant, Ye Chen saw stars from the blow. He'd slapped Xiong Er earlier, and now he was getting his payback.

"Everyone, back off." Before Ye Chen could steady himself, Xie Yun, Situ Nan, and Huo Teng—the bunch of troublemakers—pounced on him, burying him in a flurry of kicks. Their faces twisted in anger as they cursed, "This is for not coming home."

The scene spiraled out of control, turning into complete chaos.

Wave after wave came to beat Ye Chen, a dense crowd blocking the way—so many that people from outside couldn't even squeeze in.

Well then! The great Shengzhu was nowhere to be seen amid the mob.

"Are you all crazy?" Ye Chen yelled hoarsely, getting pummeled until he could barely stand. He finally crawled out of the crowd, only to be dragged back in.

He didn't even dare look up; there were too many attackers, and all he saw were feet aimed at his face.

The elders watched with awkward coughs. Was this their idea of a welcome ceremony?

A few of the more mischievous ones, like Zhou Da Fu and Pang Da Chuan, looked eager to join in.

Ye Chen's confidantes, however, couldn't help but laugh through their tears.

His miserable cries were like the most wonderful music in the world, a long-absent sound proving he was alive.

It wasn't until who knows when that the howls of pain finally died down.

Xie Yun and his gang of scoundrels finally stopped, sweating profusely, with looks of pure satisfaction on their faces.

As for Ye Chen, he lay sprawled on the ground like a starfish, covered head to toe in footprints, beaten beyond recognition, no different from a lump of nothing.

They'd gone too far—nearly killed him. Lucky his Sheng Ti was tough; anyone else would've died ages ago.

This proved the people of his homeland were still full of spirit; their welcome ceremony was unlike any other force's.

"Wow, so many treasures—these could sell for a fortune."

"This little bead glows—don't qiang qiang, it's mine."

"This heavy sword is perfect for me, great for smashing people."

Though they weren't beating him anymore, the scoundrels surrounded Ye Chen, raiding his storage bag and taking anything of value without leaving a thing.

If the situation weren't so public, they'd have stripped him down to his underwear, leaving just a pair of shorts.

That was the custom in Da Chu, a specialty of the land, carried on with great enthusiasm by its people.

Poor Ye Chen—he'd underestimated his homeland's shamelessness, and even as a master, he was left in the dust.

Shangguan Yu Er and the others couldn't stand it anymore. They surrounded Xiong Er and his group in turn.

More screams erupted as the women went berserk, their blows neither light nor heavy, making the scene a bit bloody.

The onlookers watched with twitching corners and pounding hearts.

The old saying still held true: Messing with Ye Chen was one thing, but never mess with them—the consequences were severe.

"Set up the feast." Yang Ding Tian spoke up, full of excitement.

Normally so proper, he was unusually unrestrained now, looking younger despite his age.

"Drink!" The people of Heng Yue roared with passion, their voices shaking the heavens.

Soon, banquets were laid out, with the aroma of wine filling every mountain peak. The valleys, foothills, pavilions, battle platforms, and palaces were all bustling with people, like a grand festival, the atmosphere lively and vibrant.

On Yu Nu Feng, there was also a banquet, a table over a hundred feet long, circled by people of all ages—elders and juniors alike.

Ye Chen woke up, his face dark as he glared at Xiong Er and the others. What a "joyful" welcome ceremony.

"Don't sweat the small stuff." Xiong Er chomped on a lamb leg, utterly shameless.

"We got beat too, so we're even." Xie Yun clutched his face, sporting perfect black eyes on both sides.

"We're not the grudge-holding type." Situ Nan said, nosebleed dripping, while stealing a glance at Xi Yan and the others.

"Dear, ignore them and have some soup." Xi Yan giggled, holding a bowl of fish broth in one hand and a spoon in the other, like a dutiful wife feeding it right to Ye Chen's mouth.

"That 'dear' sounds so sweet." Ye Chen chuckled.

"So, how did you survive?" Huo Teng asked.

His question drew everyone's gaze to Ye Chen; they all wanted to know what had happened back then—they'd seen him turn to ash with their own eyes.

"It's a long story; I'll tell you later." Ye Chen smiled.

Everyone fell silent, knowing Ye Chen well—he always shared the good news and hid the bad. That simple phrase hid so much hardship; his journey home must have been full of trials and tribulations.

The women's eyes reddened again, tears welling up.

Why, among all the beings in the world, did he have to suffer so? From past life to present, he was covered in wounds.

The elders like Yang Ding Tian felt deep guilt.

As the older generation, they should have shielded the younger ones, yet time and again, they'd let a junior charge ahead.

He should have been in his prime, enjoying the protection of his seniors, but instead, he'd carried the weight of the world on his back repeatedly.

Ye Chen smiled, not because he wouldn't say, but because that story was too long, long enough to bring tears.

For Heng Yue, it had only been three years, but for him, it was a thousand years of cycles. People aged, and so did hearts; though young, his hair had turned white prematurely.

"Enough talk—drink up." Xie Yun broke the silence with a shout, grabbing a large wine jar.

"Drink!" The Heng Yue disciples perked up instantly, jumping to their feet in waves, all moving in sync—they tore off their shirts, hoisted their wine jars, bare-chested, ready to drink until the end of time.

"Come on." Ye Chen laughed heartily. As the Shengzhu of Da Chu's Tian Ting, he wouldn't back down, and his wine jar was the biggest of all.

"Drink!" The Heng Yue elders also let loose, the whole sect—young and old—raising their jars high.

While Heng Yue was lively, the outside world was even more so, thundering with activity.

Looking down from above, it was an ocean of people—some flying on swords, some riding spirit beasts, some soaring through clouds, some stepping on rainbows—all heading toward Heng Yue in southern Chu.

Word had spread: Ye Chen was back.

The three sects, nine halls, and eighty-one gates of the Tian Ting were all stirred.

The scene was massive, with millions of cultivators like a dark curtain covering the sky and blanketing the earth, marching forth in grandeur.