Chapter 2842: The Path of Repentance

"Refine it, refine it for me."

At the peak of Yu Nu Feng under the moonlight, Ye Chen's roars echoed far and wide. He was completely consumed by madness, mobilizing his origin source without any regard for the cost, determined not to stop until the broken sword and its fragments were completely refined.

Precisely because of his madness, no one dared to disturb him.

That mountaintop had become a forbidden zone. When the women approached, they hesitated, unsure how to address him – as husband or father. Either identity was enough to drive him to the brink of insanity, as if this undertaking had become an insurmountable obsession.

That night, Ye Fan walked out of his room, holding Yang Lan's memorial tablet, and quietly left Yu Nu Feng. Before he departed, he looked back at Ye Chen.

He was headed for Zhu Xian Zhen, planning to deliver Yang Lan's memorial tablet to the Yang family and to apologize to his deceased in-laws for failing to protect their daughter.

Ji Ning Shuang didn't stop Ye Fan from leaving. Perhaps wandering would do him some good; if time could erase memories, then the vast changes of the world might help this pain fade away.

The next day, Ye Ling also left, leaving behind a letter and wearing the cloak her mother had given her.

In the night, her white hair fluttered, and her silhouette carried a weariness that belied her age.

She first arrived at Tian Xuan Men and entered Ling Xiao Dian.

Buzz! Buzz!

Ling Xiao Dian trembled slightly, as if in confusion and heartache. When Ye Ling had left before, she was so different—full of youthful energy, a playful and clever girl. How had she become like this? Her cultivation remained, but her origin source was gone, leaving her with an ordinary bloodline.

That wasn't the worst of it; her body was covered in scars of injury and sorrow. What kind of blow could have left her so battered and broken?

"Mother, Ling'er is leaving."

"Perhaps it will be many years before I return."

Ye Ling bowed respectfully to Chu Xuan and Chu Ling, tears still lingering in the corners of her eyes, before slowly turning away.

She left, cloaked and hooded like a traveler, exiting the gates of the various heavens and entering the vast starry sky. All that remained was a frail silhouette. As she had said, a long stretch of years awaited her in the mortal world, with no knowing when she might return.

Behind her, Chu Xuan and Chu Ling's eyes were also wet with tears. Though they were in a deep slumber, it seemed they could hear, see, and feel that their little Ye Ling had suffered a great ordeal.

Ah!

Dong Huang Tai Xin stood on the mountaintop, sighing endlessly. She had watched Ye Fan leave from here, and now she was watching Ye Ling go as well.

Ye Chen's son and daughter—one in pain, the other in guilt—were likely to be away from home for many years.

Dong Huang Tai Xin knew it, and Ye Chen surely knew it too. He understood his children: Ye Fan was going to Zhu Xian Zhen, while Ye Ling's journey would take her to far more places.

Just as he had anticipated.

Three days later, Ye Ling entered an ancient star and proceeded to a spiritual mountain within it.

That was the family home of San Shao. She had traveled countless miles just to pay her respects to him.

Ah!

Upon seeing Ye Ling, San Shao's father let out a quiet sigh and quietly departed.

At San Shao's tomb, only Ye Ling remained. She removed her hood, revealing her head of white hair.

"San Shao, I'm sorry."

Her words were still choked with emotion. Through her tear-blurred eyes, a scene seemed to materialize: a little chubby boy, like a shadow at her heels, constantly pestering her, declaring he wanted to marry her, willing to be her little brother, and eager to accompany her on escapades of mischief and deception.

Now, he was gone, killed by her hand.

She still remembered how stubbornly he had clung to her leg, refusing to let go even in death.

Incense burned at the grave, its swirling smoke blurring her vision and clouding her mind.

Perhaps, in that moment, the boy called San Shao had truly entered her heart.

But she didn't know if it was love; she only knew that his death made her cry, and for the endless years ahead, she would always remember his name.

Bathed in moonlight, she walked away.

Ah!

San Shao's father watched her leave, sighing again. He didn't blame Ye Ling; it wasn't her fault. If blame was to be placed, it should be on that damned Zhu Xian Sword, or on his son for falling in love with someone he shouldn't have.

Back in the starry sky, Ye Ling put on her hood once more.

When she reappeared, it was on another ancient star.

In front of a mansion, white banners fluttered in the wind—there was a funeral inside for someone she had killed. She had come here to repent, ready to face any punishment.

It was because she was Ye Chen's daughter.

Some things she needed to confront, refusing to tarnish her father's legacy.

After a long while, people from the mansion emerged and invited her in.

Once again, she stood before a grave, bowing respectfully—to pay homage to the departed spirit and to apologize to the family, as humbly as she had with Ye Fan.

"Young friend, we don't blame you."

The family was reasonable, not out of deference to Ye Chen, but because this disaster was truly not Ye Ling's fault—it was the evil of the Zhu Xian Sword. They could see that clearly.

"Thank you, senior."

Ye Ling bowed once more and left quietly.

A day later, she entered a vast continent.

"Get out! The Wang family doesn't welcome you."

"Your father is the Holy Body—we can't afford to mess with him."

"The daughter of an emperor, high and mighty—you can kill without consequence, I suppose."

Before she even reached the immortal mountain, a crowd rushed out from within, their faces twisted with hatred.

Not everyone was understanding. Many hurled insults, their tones mocking and sarcastic. The ignorant younger ones went further, throwing stones from a distance, pelting the frail girl.

Ye Ling stood silently, unmoving as a rock, letting the stones hit her body. She was like someone being paraded through the streets, scorned by the world.

"Dammit."

An elder who had been following in secret, Di Lao, grabbed his weapon and nearly charged out. For the sake of Ye Chen, who had saved the heavens multiple times, everyone owed him a great debt. His daughter had come to repent, yet she was treated like this. It was infuriating—a bunch of ungrateful fools whose minds must have been kicked by a donkey. The real culprit was the Zhu Xian Sword, not little Ye Ling. If they had any guts, they should go after the sword instead of venting on a young girl.

"Don't go out."

Tian Lao was there too, holding Di Lao back.

"Let me go—I'm about to explode."

"What is Ye Ling doing this for? Does Ye Chen not know? He knows and hasn't stopped her, which shows his intention. If she can't see the ugliness of the world and understand the complexities of life, she won't reach the peak of the Dao. This is both repentance and a trial. Some things need to be experienced firsthand to be truly comprehended. Ye Ling dares to come here without shaming her father's name—those stones thrown at her will one day become marks on her path to the Dao."

"Though I don't fully get what you're saying, I think you're right."

Di Lao took a deep breath, put his weapon back in his storage bag, and could no longer bear to look at Ye Ling directly.

That petite figure was now covered in dirt and bruises, like a little beggar standing before the ethereal immortal mountain, begging in the humblest way.

Boom! Rumble!

Suddenly, thunder rumbled, and dark clouds gathered in the sky, with lightning flashing.

It started to rain.

No one knew if it was a merciless downpour or a compassionate one, but it poured for three full days, cleansing the heavens and earth but not the world's filth.

The people from the immortal mountain had all left.

In the rain, only Ye Ling remained, standing still and letting the torrents soak her, unflinching.

Even Tian Lao could no longer bear it.

However, in the end, neither of them emerged.

"The Wang family, huh? I'll remember that."

Di Lao grumbled bitterly. When the heavenly demons attack or the ancient chaos stirs, would this family be so bold and arrogant then? After receiving so much favor from the Holy Body, treating his daughter like this—had their conscience been eaten by dogs?

Only on the fourth day did Ye Ling quietly depart.

Her journey was incredibly long, traversing vast stretches of the starry sky, entering ancient star after ancient star, repenting at every stop.

Some families of the deceased forgave her, while others cursed or raged—she endured it all.

This repentance of hers was not as the daughter of the Holy Body, but as Ye Ling herself. She walked for so long that dust covered her entirely, each step leaving traces of time.

Like her father, her best years were spent on the road.

Perhaps it was because she had always stood so high, born into nobility, unaware of the common world's hardships.

"Is that... Ye Ling?"

In a western part of the starry sky, Lie Huo Zhan Ti and Zhang Zi Fan suddenly stopped, staring in the distance at that faint, ghostly figure, stunned.

It had been three years since they last saw Ye Ling, and they never expected to encounter her in the stars. Now, looking at her, they felt a pang of heartache.

The Ye Ling of the past had smiled so brightly, full of mischief and spirit.

The Ye Ling now had none of that former glory; she was like a weathered traveler, worn down by time, her hood unable to hide her fluttering white hair.

Zhang Zi Fan said nothing, only sighing quietly, as if guessing what Ye Ling was doing. The daughter of the Holy Body had done nothing wrong, but these three to five years would be her rebirth, helping her comprehend the Dao through ordinary life.

Ye Ling walked further away, and Lie Huo Zhan Ti followed, dragging Zhang Zi Fan along.

Along the way, they saw everything too clearly—and it hurt too much. There were times when Ye Ling was insulted by people that Lie Huo Zhan Ti nearly lost control; if not for Zhang Zi Fan holding him back, countless families and sects might have suffered. Zhang Zi Fan understood it best.

There was a road Ye Ling had to walk alone. Though long, it would bring her a slight sense of peace. What Ye Ling lacked wasn't her origin source, but the resilience born of guilt. She needed to overcome this inner barrier.

"I wonder how much it would pain the Holy Body to see this."

"Do you think the Holy Body can't see?"

Zhang Zi Fan spoke as he quietly turned away.

No one knew on which day Ye Ling entered an ordinary ancient star and made her way to a mortal town: Zhu Xian Zhen.

This was her first time in Zhu Xian Zhen. In the deep, quiet night, she stood outside the Yang family mansion for a long time—this was Yang Lan's roots.

Ye Ling's journey had reached another waypoint.

Bathed in moonlight, she sealed her own cultivation and transformed into a mortal. She found the small courtyard where her father had once stayed, wiped the dust from the table, and retrieved the fortune-telling tools he had used from under the bed.

The next day, an old, worn fortune-telling table appeared, with a white-haired young scholar sitting behind it. He was handsome, with clear brows and eyes, quiet and unassuming.

It was Ye Ling, disguised as a man, walking the same path her father had in Zhu Xian Zhen.