Chapter 22
The crowd stood frozen in horror.
The atmosphere shifted in an instant—thick, suffocating, wrong.
The Meng couple looked as if all the blood had been drained from their faces, pale to the point of absurdity, like layers of white paint had been brushed over their skin.
Above them, the projection flickered.
For a long moment, the image froze—then shifted again.
Meng Siyu reappeared.
But this time—his expression was twisted. Frenzied. His eyes burned with a sinister, unhinged light.
“Mother still isn’t pregnant… why?” his voice rang out, sharp and unstable. “Is it really that hard for Foundation Establishment cultivators to have a child?”
His breathing grew uneven, agitation seeping into every word.
“No… it must be because you didn’t try hard enough,” he continued, tone turning accusatory, almost hysterical. “You kept saying you’d cure my illness… but in the end, you’ve done nothing!”
His voice rose, cracking under the weight of his own rage.
“It’s all your fault! All of it!” he shouted. “If you hadn’t given birth to me—how could I have ended up like this?!”
By the end, he no longer sounded human—his voice twisted into something feral, like a beast driven past the brink of reason.
Then the recording stone went dark.
Silence fell.
Slowly, almost instinctively, every gaze turned toward Meng Siyu.
Shock lingered on their faces… but it didn’t stay there for long.
It curdled into something colder.
Fear.
A chill crept down their spines, sharp and inescapable.
Was this man… capable of killing?
The thought alone made their scalps prickle.
How many times had they greeted him casually, unaware they might have been brushing past death itself?
Several of the male cultivators who had once flattered him stiffened, as if waking from a dream.
Being tricked for affection or spirit stones was one thing—
But being tricked for their lives?
That was something else entirely.
“You’re not Xiaoyu… our Xiaoyu would never be like this!”
Mother Meng abruptly let go of him, stumbling backward as if burned, staring at Meng Siyu like she was looking at a complete stranger.
Father Meng loosened his grip as well, though more slowly. He said nothing—but suspicion was written all over his face.
The shift was immediate.
Brutal.
Meng Siyu felt it like a blade to the chest.
He had expected this outcome the moment the recording stone was revealed.
And yet, somewhere deep down, he had still clung to a fragile, almost laughable hope—one built on years of indulgence and blind affection.
Now, that illusion shattered completely.
His chest tightened. Air refused to come. His face flushed red as he weakly pounded against his own chest, struggling to breathe.
In the past, his parents would have rushed to him without hesitation, frantic with worry, their voices filled with panic.
But now…
They didn’t move.
Not a single step.
The recording had struck them too deeply, like being told the child they had cherished for years was never truly theirs—that everything had been a lie.
Wei Houming watched the scene unfold, then slowly closed his eyes.
The storm inside him had not vanished—but for the first time, his thoughts were clear.
Some things… were simply not worth holding onto.
Something invisible snapped.
The shackles binding his heart shattered in an instant—and his aura surged.
Spiritual energy rushed in from all directions, spiraling upward into a massive vortex that twisted through the air.
Wei Houming’s eyes snapped open.
His figure blurred—and in the next moment, he stood at the center of the vortex, streams of spiritual energy pouring into his body like a flood.
Lou Yuqing stared up blankly. “What… is this?”
“Breakthrough,” Gu Buqi replied, concise as ever.
Si Nidie clapped her hands, eyes lighting up. “Captain Wei, nice!”
Elder Wei Tu’s face broke into a wide grin. “As expected of my disciple.”
This trip had resolved his inner demons—and now, even his cultivation had advanced.
What could be better?
Ming’er had been accumulating strength for years. Breaking through now was only natural.
A dull, heavy sound echoed through the air.
The vortex slowly dissipated.
Wei Houming descended, a faint glint flashing in his eyes.
He had stepped into the mid-stage of the Golden Core realm.
The crowd was stunned.
Just like that?
Someone muttered dazedly, “When I tried to break through to Foundation Establishment, I took pills, set up a Spirit Gathering Array, even had people guard me… and I still failed…”
A passerby patted his shoulder sympathetically. “Brother, you’re not alone. Look on the bright side—there are always geniuses in this world.”
Lou Yuqing watched Wei Houming land, her heart lifting with relief.
His fate had changed.
He wouldn’t end up like the system had predicted.
“Cough—cough—cough!”
Meng Siyu’s breathing hitched violently.
Seeing Wei Houming break through only deepened the resentment clawing through his chest. The emotional backlash made it harder to breathe, and he coughed uncontrollably.
This time, his parents didn’t even glance at him.
Instead, they looked at Wei Houming—
Guilt flickering in their eyes.
Wei Houming turned away, his expression indifferent as he addressed Elder Wei Tu. “Master.”
Elder Wei Tu immediately understood.
Meng Siyu’s condition was deteriorating rapidly. If he died here, things would become troublesome.
“Alright, alright,” he muttered, waving a hand. “I’ll grant your wish this once.”
He formed a seal, channeling a surge of powerful spiritual energy straight into Meng Siyu’s body.
The effect was immediate.
Meng Siyu’s breathing steadied.
Strength returned.
But the next words he heard sent ice flooding through his veins.
“I’m not saving him,” Wei Houming said calmly, his tone devoid of warmth. “When the demonic calamity struck, the city where the Meng family lived was wiped out overnight. At the time, there were suspicions of an insider.”
His voice carried the cold clarity of an Enforcement Hall trial. “Unfortunately, that person was never found. Now… it’s confirmed that Meng Siyu is suspected of colluding with demonic cultivators.”
A beat.
“Before he dies, we need the truth.”
If proven—whether he acted alone or not—he would face the consequences.
Elder Wei Tu nodded. “As he should.”
Back then, he had rushed to that city to provide support and found Ming’er along the way.
By the time he arrived—the place had already become a sea of blood.
Not a single survivor.
Thinking about it now…
The Meng family’s ability to escape must have been due to Meng Siyu’s warning.
The burly guard captain stepped forward, bowing slightly. “Senior, this involves demonic cultivators. It’s no small matter. I’ve already informed the City Lord—he should arrive shortly.”
Elder Wei Tu smiled faintly. “Very well.”
He understood perfectly.
The man simply feared losing credit for such a major case.
The captain lowered his gaze, guilt flickering across his face. He knew he couldn’t hide his intentions—but he had no choice.
Fortunately, the senior wasn’t unreasonable.
It’s over…
Meng Siyu collapsed onto the ground, his eyes hollow.
He wanted to faint.
Desperately.
But the spiritual energy stabilizing him was too strong—no matter what he tried, he couldn’t lose consciousness.
Then his father’s voice came, sharp with anger. “How could I have raised such a vicious son?! At such a young age, you’re already scheming against your own parents and brother—how can you face us?!”
His mother turned to Wei Houming, pleading desperately, “Child… Mother was wrong. I was blind to trust that heartless creature. Can you… give me another chance to make things right?”
Meng Siyu let out a low, mocking laugh.
He knew exactly what they were doing.
Wei Houming had ignored them—so now they were stepping on him to curry favor.
His gaze slid toward Wei Houming.
But there was nothing.
No reaction. No expression. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment.
Wei Houming met his gaze without the slightest ripple of emotion.
“Heh…”
So it wouldn’t work.
Fine. If he couldn’t escape—then neither would they.
A sudden surge of strength forced Meng Siyu upright. “I’ll report them!” he shouted hoarsely. “They’re all involved!”
As expected, the Meng couple’s faces drained of color.
“Don’t drag us into this!” they cried frantically. “We don’t know anything! The recording stone proves it—it was all him!”
Meng Siyu only smiled, cold and dismissive.
Once mud falls into a cesspool, who cares whether it was filth to begin with? Who would believe them now?
The couple looked around in desperation, but every gaze that met theirs was hostile—suspicious—cutting them down without mercy.
They were on the verge of tears.
But it didn’t matter.
Wei Houming’s voice cut through the tension, calm and steady. “After interrogation, we’ll know the truth.”
Only then did Meng’s mother dare to breathe again.
Just as the tension seemed to settle—
A new voice rose from the crowd.
“Fellow Daoist,” a young man said, his attire clearly different from the others, “this person is a traitor from my Southern Frontier. I’m afraid you can’t take her away.”
The moment Mother Meng saw him—her pupils shrank sharply.