Chapter 18
The Meng couple’s anxiety was written all over their faces.
If Wei Houming became convinced they harbored ulterior motives toward him, then everything they had planned—every calculation—would collapse into nothing.
Several days ago, after confirming that Elder Wei Tu had been absent from the Wendao Sect for years, they had begun preparing to seek out Wei Houming and acknowledge him.
This time, however, their intentions were different.
They no longer planned to use him as a blood source.
Because if they could successfully deceive him—truly win him over—then spirit stones, medicinal resources, even the cure for Meng Siyu’s weakness would all fall into their hands naturally.
All they had to do was play the role well.
Offer a few words of concern. Show a little warmth. Let him feel what “parental love” was supposed to be.
Once that happened, Wei Houming would willingly help them improve their cultivation.
After all, he was the youngest Golden Core cultivator in the Wendao Sect. The resources at his disposal… how could they not be tempted?
Compared to their original crude plan—draining blood and essence at the cost of irreversible damage—this was far more profitable. Far more refined.
And yet—
Before they could even act, Wei Houming had arrived at their doorstep… already aware.
The air froze.
“Child…” Father Meng spoke first, switching tactics instantly, his voice heavy with forced sincerity. “We were being hunted by demonic cultivators back then. We had no choice but to abandon you… otherwise, all four of us would have died.”
Wei Houming’s expression didn’t change. His voice, when it came, was ice-cold. “You just said… I was born frail. A burden. That’s why you abandoned me.”
A beat.
“Do you think my memory is that bad?”
For a fleeting moment, something in him wavered.
Then it hardened again.
He had seen through them completely.
No matter how much it hurt, the decision had already been made—he would sever everything.
But before he could speak further—
Father Meng’s voice broke, trembling. “Child… can you try to understand a father’s heart? How could I bear to watch you die?”
He swallowed, his breath uneven, forcing himself to continue. “We regretted it—abandoning you. We went back to look for you, and that’s when we saw Elder Wei Tu take you away. We thought… that was the best possible outcome, so we didn’t dare interfere.”
His gaze dropped, shoulders sagging as if the weight of it all pressed down on him.
“We’ve already told you what happened afterward. After learning you were taken in, we… we watched over you from afar. You were doing well. We couldn’t—shouldn’t—disturb you.”
His voice softened, almost pleading now.
“I know you can’t forgive that moment of cowardice… but I don’t want you to misunderstand us completely.”
A pause—then, quieter: “To you, I may not be a good father… and it’s only natural that you resent me.”
His voice trembled. His back—once straight—seemed to collapse inward, as if crushed under invisible weight.
Pitiful. Regretful. Broken.
A perfect performance.
Wei Houming’s brows drew together slightly. “You saw Master take me away… with your own eyes?”
“Yes,” Father Meng answered immediately, lowering his head.
His gaze flicked sideways—just for a moment—toward Lou Yuqing and the others.
These people… weren’t ordinary.
But as long as Elder Wei Tu wasn’t present—
He could still salvage this.
Unfortunately for him, that assumption couldn’t have been more wrong.
Lou Yuqing crossed her arms, watching with bright, expectant eyes.
[Ah. He just ran straight into a brick wall. Let’s see if Elder Wei Tu lets him keep acting.]
Si Nidie nodded silently, equally invested.
Sure enough—
Elder Wei Tu’s expression darkened. The veins on his fist bulged, rage gathering like a storm ready to break.
When he found Ming’er all those years ago… there hadn’t been a single soul nearby.
And now this man dared claim he had returned to look?
“Say that again.”
His voice dropped like thunder, heavy and suffocating.
“I don’t know what kind of technique you’ve cultivated… to slip past my divine sense without me noticing.”
The moment had come.
Ming’er’s heart had already reached its conclusion. There was no need to hold back any longer.
Elder Wei Tu stepped forward.
The pressure of a Nascent Soul cultivator crashed down without restraint.
Father Meng stiffened, his face draining of color. “Y-you… you’re Elder Wei Tu?”
A cold laugh answered him. “That’s right. I am Wei Houming’s master.”
His gaze was merciless.
“You’ve been deceiving my disciple. Tell me, how do you plan to settle this?”
Cold sweat poured down Father Meng’s back. His hands trembled uncontrollably.
A Nascent Soul cultivator.
If the other party wanted them dead, they wouldn’t even have time to scream.
Mother Meng’s fingers clenched tightly within her sleeve.
Everything they had prepared—all their carefully rehearsed plans—had been built on one assumption: That Wei Houming could be controlled.
They knew his past. Knew he had been searching for his origins.
They believed that if they grasped that weakness, they could manipulate him effortlessly.
And they had been confident.
Even when he came to their door, they hadn’t panicked. Because they thought they understood him.
But now, he had seen through everything.
And worse—he had brought the one person they feared most.
Elder Wei Tu.
Their plan hadn’t just failed—it had collapsed completely.
For a Nascent Soul cultivator to kill a Foundation Establishment cultivator…
It was no different than crushing an ant.
This was why they had only dared approach Wei Houming when Elder Wei Tu was absent.
And now—
Their teeth chattered uncontrollably.
Wei Houming watched them in silence—then, suddenly, a quiet, self-mocking laugh slipped past his lips.
Look at them.
So composed when facing him. So brazen in their lies, as if truth itself could be bent at will.
And now?
Under his master’s gaze, they couldn’t even speak.
Not a word.
The contrast was almost laughable.
They had always known.
Always known exactly who they could deceive… and who they dared not provoke.
To them, he had never been anything more than the easier target—the one they could manipulate, exploit, discard at will.
Something in his chest cracked, the soundless fracture spreading deeper than before.
The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.
The Meng couple’s eyes pleaded desperately, begging him to say something—anything—in their defense.
But Wei Houming simply watched.
Cold. Detached. Almost amused.
Then—
Meng Siyu spoke.
“Wei Houming, no matter what… they are your biological parents.”
His voice cut through the tension like a blade.
“You should understand—without them, you wouldn’t exist. You wouldn’t have the life you have now.”
Everyone: ?!
Lou Yuqing blinked.
[What kind of logic is that?!]
Wei Houming paused—then let out a soft, almost disbelieving laugh.
“So… by your reasoning,” he said slowly, his gaze fixed on Meng Siyu, “I should be grateful to them?”
Meng Siyu hesitated—just for a fraction of a second—before nodding, his voice steady. “You can think of it that way.”
Something flickered across Wei Houming’s face, unreadable, shifting too quickly to grasp. “You really believe that?”
“That’s the truth.”
Silence fell.
It spread outward, subtle at first—then heavier, pressing down on everyone present.
Confusion rippled through the onlookers.
The logic… was completely reversed.
They had abandoned Wei Houming first. Only afterward had he become Elder Wei Tu’s disciple.
And yet, in Meng Siyu’s version of events, it was Wei Houming—who, after achieving success—had coldly refused to forgive the parents who had “no choice” but to let him go.
The audacity of it was almost impressive.
“Meng Siyu… that’s enough,” Mother Meng said softly, reaching out to tug at his sleeve, her voice threaded with unease.
But Meng Siyu shook her hand off without hesitation. “No. Let me speak.”
She sighed bitterly.
That stubbornness… it had always been there.
Father Meng’s eyes flickered with something darker—but he said nothing.
Meng Siyu pressed on. “Not only are you ungrateful—you’re bullying us. Our cultivation is lower. We can’t resist you. Does humiliating your own family make you feel accomplished?”
His eyes were red, his thin body swaying slightly.
Fragile. Wronged. Unyielding.
Wei Houming frowned. “Which part of what I said gave you that impression? From beginning to end… did I ever say I would do anything to you?”
Meng Siyu shot back immediately. “Does silence mean there’s no oppression? You brought your master here. What else are we supposed to say?”
Elder Wei Tu: …What did I do to deserve this?
He folded his arms and simply watched.
Let Ming’er handle it.
Meng Siyu looked up at Wei Houming, eyes glistening.
Compared to him, he looked less like an older brother—and more like the younger one.
Weaker. Smaller. Fragile enough to break.
Years of illness had hollowed him out.
Even speaking a few sentences left him breathless, a faint flush creeping unnaturally across his pale face.
“Xiaoyu—” Mother Meng rushed forward to support him. Father Meng followed close behind.
“I’m fine,” Meng Siyu said, shaking his head, as if brushing off the concern.
Then he lifted his gaze to Wei Houming again, his voice softening, almost gentle.
“Compared to me… you’re the lucky one.” A faint, fragile smile touched his lips. “I envy you. You got to live a good life.”
He paused, breath uneven, as though the words themselves were costing him something.
“I’ve spent mine trapped in this body… sick all the time.” His voice grew lighter, thinner, like it might dissolve at any moment. “You probably don’t even know what it feels like when it flares up.”
His words drifted through the air like scattered willow fluff—soft, weightless, and yet impossible to ignore.
Wei Houming watched him.
And for a brief moment—
Something inside him shifted.
He didn’t agree with Meng Siyu’s reasoning. He owed the Meng couple nothing.
But Meng Siyu…
He had been sick since birth. His body had never properly developed—fragile, weakened, constantly on the verge of collapse.
That part… was real.
As for everything else—the deception, the cross-dressing, the schemes for spirit stones…
Wasn’t that, in the end, just survival?
What good would harsh judgment do now?
If he stepped in—if he paid to cure Meng Siyu’s illness…
Would that finally sever the last fragile thread between them?
Or would it only bind them tighter?
His thoughts spiraled, one after another, tangling into something he could no longer sort through.
Messy. Relentless.
Without realizing it, he began to make sense of it for him—turning facts into explanations, explanations into excuses.
After all… when he had been abandoned, Meng Siyu had still been a child. Too young to know anything. Too young to choose.
From Meng Siyu’s perspective, wasn’t the story completely different?
He was the one who had been kept. Raised. Protected—however imperfectly.
While his brother…
Was the one who had been taken away… only to return later, cured, successful, standing somewhere far out of reach.
Caught between his own suffering and his brother’s fortune—
How could resentment not take root?
Wasn’t that… only natural?
Wei Houming’s grip on his resolve loosened, almost imperceptibly at first—
Then more.
And more.
Until even he could no longer tell where his clarity ended… and the excuses began.
Lou Yuqing’s eyes flickered, her thoughts snapping into place.
[How could I forget Meng Siyu? He’s the real heavyweight here.]
What?!
Wei Houming’s thoughts snapped—cleanly, violently—back into place.