Chapter 117 - 116: The guilt.

Chapter 117: Chapter 116: The guilt.

Another person glanced toward Chen Yichen’s departing figure.

"I’ve also heard that he hardly ever returns to his residence anymore."

"He goes to that woman’s grave every single day and stays there until evening. Sometimes, he doesn’t even leave until the following morning."

"He’s even neglecting his cultivation..."

"What a shame. He was doing quite well before all this happened."

"The Great Dao is merciful, yet cruel at the same time. But as for a man’s fortune, his misfortune may simply not have arrived yet..."

Their conversation gradually faded as Chen Yichen continued along the pathway. He had heard every word clearly, from beginning to end.

From the moment they first mentioned his name, their conversation had reached his ears. Yet, his expression remained unchanged. Not even the slightest movement could be seen across his face.

Like a pool of stagnant water beneath the gentle touch of sunlight, his expression remained undisturbed. His fingers tightened around the edge of the tray, and he subconsciously took a deeper breath over his next few steps.

Nevertheless, his grip remained firm around the wooden tray, and his footsteps continued at their previous pace, despite the heaviness weighing on his knees.

He had grown accustomed to such conversations by now.

There was little point in correcting them, much less explaining anything. After all, he remembered her. He remembered her far better than any of them ever could.

And that was enough for him...

At least...

For now...

Soon...

The pathway gradually began to slope upward as he left the more populated sections of the family grounds behind.

The surroundings became increasingly quiet.

Unlike the lower courtyards, where the sounds of cultivation, conversations, and occasional sparring could be heard throughout the day, this particular route saw very little foot traffic.

A few old trees stood along the stone steps, their branches extending over the pathway and casting patches of shade upon the ground.

Chen Yichen continued climbing, his figure passing beneath the dark patches of shade as his footsteps echoed through the solitude, accompanied only by the rustling of leaves in the breeze.

He passed the training grounds, where several young members of the family were practising their body techniques under the supervision of an older Chen Family cultivator.

Their voices carried faintly through the air, occasionally accompanied by the sharp sounds of weapons clashing.

He did not turn his head, though his eyes briefly lingered on the training grounds from the corner of his vision, longer than he would have liked.

Further ahead, the pathway divided into two.

One led toward the ancestral hall, while the other continued up the mountain, winding through a stretch of woodland before reaching the ancestral grounds.

He took the latter without hesitation. He was already familiar with the path.

The higher he climbed, the quieter the surroundings became. A gentle breeze passed through the trees, stirring their leaves and carrying with it the faint fragrance of grass and damp soil.

Eventually, the stone steps came to an end, where a gate leading to the ancestral grounds stood.

Beyond it, toward the lower corner of the grounds, lay a secluded clearing overlooking a considerable portion of the family estate.

From there, one could see the rooftops of the buildings below, the distant training grounds, and even the outer walls surrounding the family estate.

He entered through the gate and turned left.

Several graves were arranged across the ancestral grounds, each marked by a stone monument. Most belonged to members of the Chen Family who had passed away throughout its long history.

Chen Yichen walked past them without stopping, his long robes swaying in the wind as he passed by. He headed toward a particular grave situated a little farther from the others.

The monument was relatively simple, but unique marks and patterns had been carved across its surface, making it rather distinct from the other monuments there.

He had painstakingly travelled all the way to Blue Cloud Mist City to have this monument personally customized.

His gaze shifted toward the surrounding ground.

The mound had been properly maintained, with no weeds growing between the stones. A few flowers had been placed nearby, though some had already begun to wilt.

He sighed.

"I told you, didn’t I?"

"I’m not very good at tending to plants..."

Chen Yichen stopped before the grave and crouched down, sending a flickering green light from his palm toward the wilting petals.

"I even learned several techniques to take care of them..."

"I raised quite a few spiritual herbs whenever I had the time, but most of them ended up dying anyway."

"Alas..."

"What good is talent without the will to pursue it?"

For a moment, he remained crouched there, looking at the name carved upon the stone. Then, he slowly lowered the wooden tray.

He placed it carefully before the grave, adjusted the dishes until they were properly arranged, and poured tea into the two porcelain cups.

One for himself.

The other for her.

After finishing, he settled down on the ground, folding his legs beneath him. He stared at the grave for a while before finally speaking again.

"Xiaoyu..."

His voice was quiet, and his words drifted into the air like a soft mist in the morning.

"I’m here again to visit you..."

He glanced at the dishes before letting out a small breath.

"I brought you some food today. The kitchen prepared quite a few things, so I took some before the others could finish them."

He picked up one of the dishes and examined its contents. Among them was a soft, sliced bun, split down the middle and filled with a yellowish butter-and-sugar spread.

"Look. They even made this one."

A faint smile appeared on his face.

"You used to complain whenever they didn’t serve it. I remember you once argued for nearly half an hour because they had forgotten to prepare it."

He placed the dish back down.

"I wonder if they’d still remember you."

His gaze lingered on the grave.

"Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter. I remember."

He reached for one of the porcelain cups and took a small sip of tea. Afterwards, he placed it back down and looked toward the other cup.

"Your tea is getting cold."

He paused, then chuckled softly.

"Though I suppose you’d complain if I let it get too hot, too."

"You’re really making things difficult for me, you know?"

His voice had grown softer.

"I keep bringing two cups, but I end up drinking both of them."

He lowered his head, rubbing his thumb against the side of his porcelain cup.

"Still... I don’t think I can bring myself to stop."

The faint smile on his face gradually disappeared. Nevertheless, he kept himself together.

"Anyway, quite a few things have happened recently."

He began telling her about the family, the people he had encountered, and the small happenings that would otherwise have seemed insignificant.

He spoke about the younger members who had recently made progress in their cultivation, the elders who had been arguing over some trivial matter, and the changes around the family grounds.

Especially the Sword Peak. The sword disciples there were making breakthroughs one after another, progressing as naturally as fish swimming through water.

Then there were the money-minded family members of the Second Peak, also known as the Palace of Gold, and finally...

The cold and aloof members of the main peak’s management team under the Patriarch. Though their attitudes were somewhat understandable, considering that those in positions of power usually had to bear considerable pressure.

Occasionally, he would pause, as though waiting for her to respond.

Then he would continue.

"Oh, right. I almost forgot."

He looked toward the grave again.

"I haven’t told you about what happened the other day."

His expression softened.

"Something rather funny happened. I thought you’d enjoy hearing about it."

He recounted the story of how he had been mistaken for a ghost and how an elder had personally confronted him, nearly getting him into serious trouble.

A soft laugh broke through the awkward silence, and he laughed along as much as he could. It was almost as though she were standing right before him, laughing alongside him.

He continued speaking, but his words gradually became quieter. There were so many things he wanted to tell her. So many things that had happened since the last time they had spoken.

And yet, no matter how much he said, there was always something missing.

The person who should have been listening was no longer there.

Chen Yichen lowered his eyes toward the food.

"...You know, sometimes I still feel like you’re going to come back. Sometimes, I feel like you’re still alive... somewhere out there..."

His fingers tightened slightly around the porcelain cup.

"I keep thinking that one day, you’ll suddenly appear behind me and complain about how long I’ve been taking."

He gave a quiet laugh, but it faded almost immediately.

"But you never do."

The clearing fell silent.

Chen Yichen stared at the grave for a long while before speaking again.

"...I miss you, Xiaoyu."

"I truly... do."