Chapter 17
The couple who had given birth to both Wei Houming and Meng Siyu—two strikingly handsome men—could not possibly have been ordinary in appearance.
And they weren’t.
At a glance, Wei Houming resembled them by four or five parts—enough that their blood connection was undeniable.
Yet something felt… off.
Though only middle-aged, the Meng parents looked prematurely aged. Their hair had gone gray too early, their faces worn and lined, as if life had pressed them down again and again without mercy.
Wei Houming stared at them without blinking.
His fingers twitched faintly at his sides.
“Then answer me,” he said, voice steady but sharp. “Why didn’t you come to find me?”
Father Meng’s smile stiffened for a fraction of a second. Then it deepened, wrinkles folding into one another as unease flickered across his face.
“Child…” he began gently, “we originally intended to keep this a secret. Since you’ve come here, you must already know we are your biological parents. We simply didn’t want you to misunderstand.”
He let out a long, heavy sigh, as if burdened by decades of grief.
“When your mother gave birth to you, the demonic calamity broke out. While we were fleeing, we were separated from you in the chaos. That… was our fault.” His voice trembled. “If you wish to blame us, to scold us, even to strike us—we will accept it. As long as you can forgive us.”
His voice choked at the end.
Wei Houming’s pupils widened slightly.
Yes… that had been the story.
For fifty years, he had believed exactly that.
But now—
That belief felt like something fragile… something already shattered.
Was this man telling the truth?
Wei Houming’s gaze sharpened, cutting straight into the depths of Father Meng’s eyes.
Father Meng’s heart skipped. He quickly raised a hand to wipe at imaginary tears—subtly signaling his wife.
Mother Meng stepped forward at once, placing a hand on his back in comfort. Then she looked at Wei Houming, guilt written plainly across her face.
“Your father was struck eighteen times by a demonic cultivator. He was gravely injured…” Her voice softened. “Child, don’t blame him. If anyone is at fault, it’s me. I failed to protect you.”
As she spoke, she lifted Father Meng’s sleeve.
Beneath it, scars crisscrossed his arm—some shallow, some deep, some long enough to run nearly the length of his limb. A jagged map of old wounds.
Wei Houming had handled enough cases within the sect to know what he was looking at.
Those scars… were real.
A complicated emotion flickered through his eyes.
Still, he said nothing.
“Enough!” Father Meng suddenly snapped, slapping her hand away and tugging his sleeve back down. His face flushed, embarrassment creeping in. “Why bring up old matters? You’ll only make the child laugh at us.”
Mother Meng faltered. “I… I was just telling the truth.”
“Stop talking nonsense!” He cut her off sharply before turning back to Wei Houming, his tone softening again.
“Don’t listen to her. My injuries weren’t that serious—just lost some blood. She’s overly emotional. Thought I was going to die.” He let out a forced chuckle. “But I’m tougher than that.”
Wei Houming listened in silence.
Then Father Meng’s voice dropped, turning hoarse.
“But losing you…” he said slowly, “that was like the sky collapsing. We nearly died fighting those demonic cultivators. If it weren’t for your younger brother… we might not have survived at all.”
Mother Meng picked up where he left off, her voice trembling. “Your brother has always been frail. His body never developed properly. Leaving him alone would’ve been a death sentence. We… we couldn’t bear it.”
Behind them, Meng Siyu stood quietly.
He was thin. Fragile. A full head shorter than Wei Houming. His entire frame spoke of long-term illness.
Wei Houming met their gazes—and felt something recoil deep inside him.
That feeling…
Maybe it had always been there.
But now, it was impossible to ignore.
“And then?” he asked.
He wanted to hear all of it.
Every last word.
Seeing him relent, Father Meng visibly relaxed. “After that, we searched for you, but no matter how hard we looked, we couldn’t find you. In the end, we brought your brother to Ping’an City to hide.”
He paused briefly before continuing, his tone softening. “And then… by chance, we learned that you had been taken in by Elder Wei Tu of the Wendao Sect.”
Mother Meng nodded, tears welling.
“Heaven showed us mercy, you survived.” Her voice broke. “We wanted to bring you back… but we couldn’t.”
She lowered her head.
“We learned Elder Wei Tu was searching for medicine to cure your illness. With him, you wouldn’t suffer like your brother does…” Her voice trembled. “So…”
“So you pretended I didn’t exist,” Wei Houming cut in, his words rapid, sharp like a blade. “You left me with Master. And for all these years, you never once came to see me?”
Mother Meng stiffened.
Then, slowly, she lowered her head.
“It’s our failure as parents,” she said softly. “We gave you such a weak body, yet couldn’t cure you. If that’s the case… it’s better we never acknowledge you, and let you live a healthy life instead.”
For a brief moment, Wei Houming wavered.
Just a moment—then clarity snapped back into place.
The more pitiful their story sounded, the more absurd it became.
Because through it all, Lou Yuqing’s thoughts had never stopped.
[Perfect appearance—worn and weathered, just enough to stir sympathy.]
[Perfect expressions—layered guilt, just the right amount of self-blame.]
[Damn… their acting is good. If I didn’t know the truth, I’d almost believe them.]
[Look at this—playing the victims now. Late, but very convincing.]
[Abandoned him in the wilderness… and now calling it “for his own good”? Seriously?]
[If Elder Wei Tu hadn’t taken him in, he might not even be alive. And don’t forget—they originally planned to use him as a mobile blood bank.]
[They’re only staying away because Elder Wei Tu is a Nascent Soul cultivator. They’re afraid of being exposed.]
[Wait until he’s gone for long enough—they’ll swoop in, claim kinship, and latch onto Captain Wei.]
Lou Yuqing rolled her eyes behind Gu Buqi’s back, completely done with the performance.
Si Nidie, on the other hand, was seething.
Her fists clenched so tightly her knuckles turned pale. She had never felt this angry in her life.
Watching them twist the truth—painting themselves as tragic, helpless parents—when in reality they were nothing more than opportunists clinging to Captain Wei…
It made her blood boil.
She nearly stepped forward—but just then, Elder Wei Tu’s voice sounded in her mind.
“Let Ming’er handle this himself. Only then can he resolve the knot in his heart. We shouldn’t interfere. I believe in him.”
Hesitation only leads to chaos.
Si Nidie froze—then slowly nodded.
“…Is that so?” Wei Houming said quietly. “You expect me to believe that?”
He lifted his gaze. “Because what I heard… is completely different.”
The Meng couple stiffened.
Their eyes met for the briefest second—panic flashing between them.
Before they could react—
Wei Houming continued. “I was told… I was born for a purpose.”
His voice dropped. “Because Meng Siyu was weak, you gave birth to me… to use my blood as medicine for him.”
He stared straight at them. “Is that true?”
For a split second—
Their expressions cracked.
It was subtle.
But not enough to escape him.
“That’s nonsense!” Father Meng blurted immediately. “How could we do such a thing? Someone must be framing us!”
Mother Meng burst into tears. “Which heartless bastard told you that? How could we—your parents—be so cruel?!”
Wei Houming let out a low laugh. “Words mean nothing,” he said coolly. “I have evidence. When you abandoned me, someone witnessed it… and recorded everything with a recording stone.”
A recording stone.
The moment those words landed, the Meng couple’s composure shattered. That would be undeniable proof—panic surged across their faces almost instantly.
Around them, the others froze for a beat… before realization slowly dawned.
[He’s bluffing.]
Cold sweat slid down Father Meng’s temple.
“Recording stones can be forged,” he said quickly. “That person must have fabricated it to harm our relationship.”
Mother Meng seized the thread at once. “Or perhaps they know you’ve achieved something now—and are trying to extort you! Child, don’t fall for it!”
Their voices overlapped seamlessly, every word falling into place with practiced ease—perfect coordination, perfect sincerity.
A flawless performance.
Wei Houming’s smile grew colder.
Now he understood… how easily he could have believed them.
“Too bad,” he said softly. “There is no recording stone. If you were innocent, you’d be proving you didn’t abandon me… not questioning the evidence.”
Silence.
Their faces drained of color.
“You lied to us?” Father Meng whispered.
“Does it matter?” Wei Houming’s voice was ice. “The truth is already clear.”
He looked at them, each word measured, deliberate.
“I wish… I had never been born to you.”
His eyes closed.
For a moment, he forced the tears back, holding himself together through sheer will. He had thought he could remain unaffected—but the pain still came, sharp and unrelenting, tightening in his chest until it was almost suffocating.
The Meng couple, now exposed, panicked. They didn’t even notice his expression anymore, scrambling to salvage the situation.
“Child, it’s not like that!” Father Meng insisted. “Yes, we had selfish reasons, but it’s understandable! Your illness was worse than your brother’s. We simply couldn’t afford both!”
Mother Meng nodded frantically. “But we never intended to use your blood as medicine! Never!”
“Enough!”
Wei Houming’s voice cracked through the air like a blade.