Chapter 2074: Dreaming of Home

Chapter 2074: Dream Back to Hometown

At night, Ye Chen emerged from the ancient tomb, bathed in moonlight, and returned to Zhu Xian Zhen. The blood-robed elder was extraordinarily ruthless, having devoured countless people and turned the once peaceful town into a scene of bloodshed.

As he stepped through the city gate, all he saw was desolation. Many households had hung white banners, and widows and orphans, dressed in mourning clothes, knelt before their doors, tossing paper money into braziers. The sounds of choking sobs and anguished cries filled the entire town, and the dark night was destined to be accompanied by tears.

Ye Chen sighed inwardly, accompanied by an inexplicable sense of guilt. If he had thought earlier to harness the power of his bloodline, perhaps these people wouldn't have had to die.

"Ye Daxia has returned," someone suddenly called out as he walked along.

The residents of Zhu Xian Zhen gathered upon hearing this, and without a word, they knelt down one after another, loudly thanking him for saving their lives. If not for Ye Chen that day, they too would have met a grim fate. Compared to those lofty gods, this great hero was the true savior.

Ye Chen said nothing, only using a gentle force to help the crowd to their feet, then quietly made his way to the small garden. They called him a savior, but even he found it laughable. When it came to killing, he had slain more than the blood-robed elder.

In this world, there were no saviors—only the cruel laws of existence.

Ling Feng and the others arrived but did not approach, merely watching Ye Chen silently from afar. From his desolate figure, they seemed to glimpse a corner of the cultivation world, filled with slaughter and strewn with blood and bones. The gods in the eyes of the people had never truly pitied the masses.

Under the gaze of the crowd, Ye Chen's figure gradually faded into the distance.

In the alley, Ye Chen wearily pushed open the garden gate and saw the evil demon sitting at the stone table, quietly drinking wine, as if oblivious to his return.

"My call—you must have heard it," Ye Chen said slowly, his tone calm and even.

"Heard it loud and clear." The evil demon held the wine cup, savoring the fine liquor.

"When Tian Sha Gu Xing was born, you pitied the people and brought down Ling Tian Xian Yu. Why didn't you save them this time?"

"Are you questioning this god?"

"How dare I." Ye Chen gave a self-mocking smile and sat down under the old tree.

"The mighty Huang Gu Sheng Ti—you've walked over mountains of corpses. When did you become so sentimental?" The evil demon, with his back to Ye Chen, spoke leisurely. "During the day, I was in Zhu Xian Zhen. You didn't save Tian Sha Gu Xing, but this god would have. However, I only saved her. The life and death of mortals—what does it have to do with me? Your sighs and guilt aren't true pity; they're resentment and anger toward the laws of the world. You want to change them, but alas, you're powerless."

"You're implying something more," Ye Chen said flatly.

"You're a smart one. If you understand, why play dumb?" The evil demon poured another cup and held it to his nose, gently inhaling the aroma. From start to finish, he never turned around.

Ye Chen fell silent, lowering his head and gaze. He realized this was another test, grinding his state of mind. His pity stemmed from not being cold enough, and his aversion to the cruel laws was a sign of his powerlessness. Even as the emperor of Da Chu or a supreme great emperor, he couldn't defy the vast forces of heaven and earth.

After some time, he got up and returned to his room, pulling the covers over his head and falling asleep.

In the garden, the evil demon remained, quietly drinking. Under the bright moon, she murmured softly, "Fu Xi, you're being too harsh on him."

With a sigh, the table was left with only the wine cup, and the evil demon was gone.

The night was not peaceful; cries of grief still echoed. Those who had lost loved ones were destined for sleeplessness.

Accompanied by tears, the dim night gradually faded.

The Zhu Xian Zhen of the morning was not as bustling as usual. Many families were holding funerals, with paper money scattered across the streets, and everywhere a sea of white as people in mourning clothes filled the scene.

At the fortune-teller's table, Ye Chen sat quietly, saying nothing, his expression neutral.

Today, no one came for fortune-telling; all were immersed in sorrow.

"The money I've saved over the years—I've distributed it to the poor families. Does that count as accumulating virtue?" The first to arrive was Shangguan Jiu, uncharacteristically generous for once, even though he never paid for wine. As a martial arts expert, he was still just an ordinary person who believed in good deeds bringing good rewards.

"Skip a few visits to the brothels, and you'd have plenty," Yang Xuan retorted with a scoff.

"As if you've never gone," Shangguan Jiu shot back.

"Every time, it's me footing the bill. How dare you say that," Yang Xuan grumbled.

"In a time of mourning, you two could show a bit more sensitivity," Ling Feng said lightly.

At that, the two fell quiet.

How could they not feel the sorrow? As people who lived by the blade in the martial world, they had never felt someone's death so deeply before. Perhaps they had truly come to see this place as home.

Not long after, Yang Ge Lao arrived, holding Xiao Yang Lan.

The family's gratitude to Ye Chen was beyond words. Compared to the others in the town, they were fortunate, having been saved by the martial arts legend at the critical moment.

A month passed quietly, and the small mortal town gradually returned to normal.

On another night, Ye Chen slept soundly.

The sky was full of stars that night, and occasionally a beam of starlight filtered through the window, falling across Ye Chen's face, making his brows furrow slightly, as if he were having a terrifying nightmare.

When he opened his eyes again, swirling mists surrounded him, a hazy white expanse. As the mists slowly dissipated, a vast landscape came into view—mountains and rivers, grasses and trees, all as warm and familiar as in his memories. This was Da Chu, his homeland.

"Dream back to Da Chu." Ye Chen was overwhelmed with emotion, striding through the void toward Hengyue Zong.

The Da Chu of the night was peaceful and serene, and the Yunu Peak of the night was as elegant as ever.

When Ye Chen arrived, the women were all there—some embroidering, some watering flowers, like Xi Yan and Luo Xi, who sat with their chins in their hands, gazing at the stars.

Besides them was a little one, not at all sleepy, toddling across the grass in pursuit of butterflies, occasionally calling out "Mommy" and bursting into giggles.

That was Xiao Ye Fan, still just two or three years old. His memories stopped at his childhood, and though young, he was quite sensible, often crouching by the window in the dead of night, staring outside and waiting for his mother to return.

Ye Chen laughed through his tears. Seventy-six years had passed since he left, and he never imagined returning in the form of a dream. He could see his loved ones, but they could not see him.

"Daddy." As Ye Chen watched, Xiao Ye Fan suddenly called out, full of excitement, and stumbled toward him on little feet.

Ye Chen was stunned. Could the little one see me?

The women were also startled, turning their gazes. They thought Ye Chen had returned, but saw nothing.

By the time Xiao Ye Fan reached Ye Chen's feet, he looked up with his little head and stretched out his hands, saying in a childish voice, "Daddy, hug me."

" Can he really see me?" Ye Chen murmured, completely baffled.

After all, he was in a dream, while Ye Fan was in reality. By all logic, Ye Fan shouldn't be able to see him—this went against the rules of illusion and reality.

"Daddy, hug me." The little one pleaded again, pulling Ye Chen from his thoughts.

Ye Chen felt a lump in his throat and instinctively crouched down. Calculating it, he hadn't held Ye Fan in seventy-six years—he hadn't been a good father.

Yet, as a figure in the dream, he couldn't touch Ye Fan or hold him in his arms.

Xiao Ye Fan started to cry, his eyes welling up with tears.

The women hurried over, with Chu Xuan being the fastest, scooping up Xiao Ye Fan. Chu Ling gently wiped away his tears with a handkerchief, saying softly, "Be good, Ye Fan."

Xi Yan and the others also knelt down, pulling out toys to comfort the little one, thinking he missed his parents too much.

Xiao Ye Fan was understanding and stopped crying, but he kept staring at Ye Chen with wide eyes.

The women frowned slightly. Only when they reached Ye Fan did they sense a familiar aura, as if someone were watching them.

"Dream back through the ages," Chu Xuan murmured.

"Ye Chen, is that you?" Chu Ling asked hurriedly, staring ahead. Though she couldn't see anything, she felt it, as if she knew about the dream's power to connect realms.

"It's me." Ye Chen replied with a tearful smile, but they were destined not to hear.

The night grew deeper.

Xiao Ye Fan fell asleep and was carried back to his room.

The women, however, could not sleep.

Ye Chen lingered, his ethereal form floating there, gazing quietly. This dream seemed to last a long time, as if to let him see his fill.

Suddenly, a breeze carried a woman's fragrance.

At the window of Ye Fan's room, a ethereal female figure appeared, bathed in moonlight, pure and flawless, like a dream. Upon closer look, it was Ji Ningshuang. She glanced at the sleeping Ye Fan, then turned back with a gentle smile at Ye Chen.