The Gong Family Head, Gong Xuanyao, had appeared at some unknown point within the archives tower. He wore a dark robes embroidered with cloud-crane patterns, his bearing commanding and stern. Around him emanated the powerful aura of someone long accustomed to a position of authority, mingled with the sharp, biting presence of one who had only just emerged from closed-door cultivation. His sharp gaze swept over the chaos strewn across the floor and then settled on Gong Tinglan.

“What in the world are you making a mess of?” The Family Head strode forward, his voice carrying suppressed fury: “Your father went into closed-door cultivation for just over a year, only to find that you’ve somehow gotten yourself entangled with this Lang Jiuchuan. Looking at what this woman has done — her ill intent toward the occult clans is plain to see from the Rong Family incident alone. Her conduct is wild and ungovernable, her schemes deep and concealed. Getting involved with her is no different from plotting with a tiger. Don’t forget — the Gong Family is also among the occult clans.”

Gong Tinglan’s brow furrowed, a flicker of displeasure crossing his face. “You, Family Head, have never met Daoist Friend Lang. To judge her character solely based on one-sided words from the clan’s elders — isn’t that far too biased and unworthy of the impartiality a Family Head should uphold? It falls short of the proper bearing, too.”

It did not surprise him that the Family Head had learned of Lang Jiuchuan’s actions. Even in closed-door cultivation, there were plenty of eyes and ears keeping watch on his behalf — upon emerging, someone would be sure to report matters of every kind. It was only right, after all, that as the head of a clan, he could not be truly blind and deaf.

But to define Lang Jiuchuan’s character based solely on hearsay was, to say the least, unconvincing.

The Family Head’s eyes narrowed. He cast a sidelong glance at this heir of his, his voice cold: “I’ve rarely seen you defend anyone — and to defend a woman, of all people. Could it be that you intend to take her as your cultivation partner?”

If so, everything he had just said, he could consider unsaid.

Gong Tinglan: “?”

Could we not be serious for a moment? The way this conversation pivoted — this is rather too fast and too much.

“Your son’s heart belongs entirely to the dao, with ambitions fixed on reaching the Returnal Void realm. I have long since severed all thoughts of earthly ties. Put that idea to rest, Father.” Gong Tinglan said flatly.

A fleeting expression of disappointment crossed the Family Head’s face before he restored his commanding sternness and said: “Your father knows you were born with a rebellious bone in your body. You refuse arranged marriages — I yield to your wishes. You privately rallied the younger disciples of the clan in an attempt to overturn old systems and cut away the rotten flesh — I held down the voices of discontent for you. I do these things because your father knows that each generation has its own ways of thinking. You are the Gong Family’s young master. As long as you can make the Gong Family flourish and lead us further, your father will cooperate with you — including handing over your father’s own network of allies. But what you have been doing lately — your father requires an explanation. If you’re simply causing trouble, don’t blame me for exercising my authority as Family Head impartially.”

Gong Tinglan stood with his back straight as a rod and met his gaze directly. “Whether or not I’m causing trouble — Family Head, why not hear me out first? Do you know why the Rong Family collapsed overnight, and what calamity came down upon them? Beyond the fact that the Rong Family brought heavenly retribution upon themselves through every manner of evil deed, there is also the karmic backlash from the Rong Family Head colluding with the Imperial Preceptor — their joint wickedness turning back upon them.”

Without waiting for the Family Head to respond, he continued, his voice growing cold: “Tracing the Rong Family’s catastrophe to its root — it was rot. The foundation had already been riddled with decay, which is why a single change of winds brought their tower crashing down. Do you believe this was Lang Jiuchuan stirring up trouble for no reason? No. The true source of the disaster was the Imperial Preceptor — he orchestrated the entire tragedy. He exploits the nation for his own enrichment, slaughters the bloodlines of noble families, siphons off their fortune, and his schemes stretch deep and wide in ways that are nothing short of horrifying…”

Gong Tinglan slowly laid out everything he knew and had witnessed, concealing nothing. Within the archive tower, nothing was heard save for his clear, dispassionate voice — and the Family Head’s increasingly hurried and heavy breathing.

The clan’s elders were the Family Head’s eyes and ears, but even they were not omniscient about all things under heaven. Gong Tinglan could hardly have recklessly shared the Imperial Preceptor’s true face and deeds with everyone — which was why the elders too had been kept ignorant of what Gong Tinglan was actually doing. They had only sensed that his recent conduct was erratic and domineering, mixed with an ineffable and unnerving tension — and so had reported all this to the Family Head.

Now, at last, the Family Head had drawn all the information from his son’s own account, and was so shaken that the jade slip in his hand shattered in his grip.

He harbored no suspicion that Gong Tinglan had fabricated a case against the Imperial Preceptor in order to upend the occult clans’ established order. The heir of the Gong Family was no ignorant fool.

“…Qian, Yang, and Li are a cautionary mirror for all of us noble families. Father, consider — when one man has seized the fortune of the entire world, what would this realm become? The Gong Family of the occult clans — what would we be in his eyes but ants? In the end, we too would be nothing more than a mote of dust vanishing without a sound into the long river of history. What would remain of a lasting legacy, of a teaching passed down through the ages?”

The color finally drained from the Family Head’s face.

The Imperial Preceptor was the great pillar of the nation, his cultivation profound and unfathomable. That he was seizing the national fortune — even the fortune of noble families — what was his true intent?

“Are you certain you are not exaggerating? A lineage is not easily built. You are the young master of our Gong Family — in all you do, preserving and protecting the Gong clan must be the foremost consideration.”

Gong Tinglan let out a laugh — a laugh laced with a thread of mockery and disappointment. “This is one of the very sources of the occult clans’ long rot: precisely because all of you have placed so-called clan interests above everything else, the heart and soul of the occult clans’ dao has long since lost its purity. It is why the cultivation of most practitioners of our generation is mediocre at best — because you have been deceiving yourselves for so long, and have been put on a pedestal by the world as lofty beings above all others, and that illusion has eaten away at your dao-hearts.”

“Insolence. Is this how you speak to your father?” The Family Head was greatly displeased.

Gong Tinglan showed not a trace of fear, his expression one of upright and unyielding principle: “Family Head — if all we do is seek to preserve ourselves through troubled times, turning a blind eye to the greater cause of the people, then what distinguishes our Gong Family from those worldly families scrambling for petty gain? Or is it that in your eyes, we are no different from them? We are a noble family of the occult arts — we come from the lineage of the dao school. What we carry forward is not merely techniques and secret methods. It is the dao itself — and with it, the responsibility to guard the righteous path of the human world, to discern the workings of Heaven, and to protect all living beings.”

His voice rang clear and piercing, carrying a force that brooked no argument, as he said coldly: “Family Head, do you still remember the teachings of our Gong Family’s founding patriarch? A practitioner of the dao must discern right from wrong, distinguish the orthodox from the deviant, and know what to do and what to refrain from. Now, a demonic evil has usurped the nation and brings calamity to all living beings. Our Gong Family has perceived this — how can we stand aside out of fear of unknown risk? To see evil and not strike it down is to be complicit in its harm. That is the true failure of our ancestor’s teachings, a true disgrace to everything we have learned and everything our lineage stands for.”

The Family Head’s entire body trembled. Their eyes met.

His heir was still young — and yet he already carried within him the energy and moral force to lead a younger generation, and the ability to stand fully on his own. He had truly embodied the founding patriarch’s teachings: to discern right from wrong, to distinguish the orthodox from the deviant, to hold to the path without ever wavering.

Reflecting on himself — perhaps, over the years, the interests of the mundane world had truly polluted his dao-heart, leaving him to calculate and hesitate, forever weighing gains and losses.

“Family Head — what I wish for is not to drag the Gong Family into ruin. What I hope is that our Gong Family can become a true model of the orthodox occult path — one that, when faced with a catastrophe threatening all living beings, has the courage to stand forward, to right what is wrong and uproot what is deviant. Only then can we truly be remembered through the ages and held in esteem — not to end like the Rong Family, leaving behind nothing but infamy.” Gong Tinglan’s gaze burned as it fixed on him. “To choose to cower for a time, and in the end perhaps face annihilation regardless — or to choose to step forward, and stake everything on a name written into history, on a future of a flourishing lineage. Family Head, the decision is yours.”

The Family Head said in a flat tone: “And if I choose to tend only to my own affairs?”

Gong Tinglan curved his lips: “Father — you are old. Your son can only resort to seizing the seat.”

The Family Head: “…”

What transcendent genius, what divine young master of the age — this is plainly a born rebel.