Chapter 25: So I Was Just a Substitute?

That evening, Xiao Yifeng arrived at Shoujing Hall to request an audience. He asked the maid on duty to announce him, and moments later, the young woman returned to usher him inside.

The hall was brightly lit. Lin Ziyun sat on the main seat, dressed in a plain but elegant palace gown. She looked dignified, though her expression held a trace of helplessness as she spoke to the girl beside her.

Su Miaoqing sat next to her mother, the very picture of a proper lady. Dressed in a flowing green dress that accentuated her stunning features, she sat upright—zheng jin wei zuo—posture perfect, absentmindedly stroking the snow-white fur of Xiao Bai in her lap.

Su Miaoqing was one of the few disciples who refused to wear the standard Wentian Sect uniform. As the “Little Princess” of Wuya Hall, she had the capital to be willful. She preferred colorful dresses, and given her status, no one dared to gossip or correct her.

When Xiao Yifeng entered, Su Miaoqing’s face lit up as if she had just been granted a royal pardon. The mask of propriety vanished instantly.

“Alright, alright, Mother! Little Feng is here!” she chirped, hugging Lin Ziyun’s arm and smiling coquettishly. “I know everything you’re going to say. I’ll be careful, I promise!”

Lin Ziyun shot her daughter a side-eye before turning to Xiao Yifeng.

Xiao Yifeng hadn’t expected the Senior Sister to be here. He bowed respectfully. “Disciple Xiao Yifeng pays his respects to Master’s Wife and Senior Sister.”

“I’ve told you a hundred times, skip the empty formalities,” Lin Ziyun said with a warm smile. “Sit.”

Xiao Yifeng didn’t refuse. He thanked her and took a seat.

“Little Feng, you’re visiting so late,” Lin Ziyun asked, curiosity in her eyes. “Have you encountered a bottleneck in your cultivation? Do you lack any resources?”

Xiao Yifeng recounted his conversation with the Eldest Senior Brother earlier that day.

“Master’s Wife,” he concluded, his voice earnest. “The Enforcement Team training only lasts three years, and duty is only half a day. It won’t hinder my progress. I truly wish to go out and gain experience. I beg you to fulfill my wish.”

Lin Ziyun’s brow furrowed, and she gritted her teeth lightly. “That Xiang Tiange… I explicitly told him not to mention this to you, yet he went behind my back. Just wait until I get my hands on him.”

Xiao Yifeng quickly interjected to defend his senior. “Master’s Wife, this isn’t Eldest Brother’s fault. I genuinely want to go. I’ve reached the seventh layer of Qi Condensation, and I’ve squeezed every drop of knowledge I can from the morning lectures. What I lack now is actual combat. This is the perfect opportunity.”

Lin Ziyun sighed. She knew Xiao Yifeng better than anyone. This boy wished he could split a single day into two just to cultivate more. If he was asking to go, it wasn’t for fun—it was because he didn’t want to make things difficult for her and Su Qianyi.

“If you go, your daytime studies will be neglected,” she said, her tone softening. “But fine. The morning sessions are of little use to you and Qing’er now anyway. Your Senior Brothers and Sisters have nothing left to teach you. We’ll cancel them.”

She paused, her expression turning serious. “It’s all because your Master cares too much about his face. He refuses to lower himself to ask for favors… Listen to me. The Enforcement Team is a mixed bag—dragons and snakes intermingle there. Wait a moment.”

She stood up. “I will give you a few treasures for self-defense. Be extremely careful. Do not seek out trouble or fight over petty grievances.”

“This disciple understands! I will follow your teachings!” Xiao Yifeng responded quickly, relief washing over him.

He knew Wuya Hall was in a precarious spot. He didn’t want to add to his Master and Mistress’s burdens, especially with Su Miaoqing’s Foundation Establishment approaching.

The cancellation of the morning classes was an unexpected bonus. He had long felt that listening to the seniors repeat the same theories was a waste of time he could be spending on meditation.

Su Miaoqing’s eyes sparkled. She clapped her hands, looking at her mother with eager anticipation. “Mother! Is the Enforcement Team fun? Can I go too?”

Lin Ziyun glared at her, feigning anger. “What nonsense are you spouting? Your only priority is Foundation Establishment. Until you succeed, you aren’t going anywhere!”

Xiao Yifeng couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle.

Su Miaoqing caught it immediately. She pouted her red lips and glared at him. “Fine, I won’t go. It’s just Foundation Establishment, right? Watch me break through in 2 days! And you—Little Feng, what are you laughing at? Stop laughing!”

Xiao Yifeng immediately schooled his face into a mask of solemnity. “En. Senior Sister is ice-snow clever. You will surely succeed instantly.”

“Stop bullying Little Feng,” Lin Ziyun scolded gently, tapping Su Miaoqing on the head. “How old are you? Still acting like a child.”

“I’m not bullying him! Ask him yourself!” Su Miaoqing whined, clinging to Lin Ziyun. “And I’m not old!”

Lin Ziyun was defenseless against her daughter’s spoiling tactics. She shook her head, helpless.

After a few more minutes of small talk, Xiao Yifeng saw that the hour was late and rose to leave.

Lin Ziyun stopped him. She handed over a pile of items: several defensive Talismans, a Top Grade fire-attribute Spirit Weapon—a longsword—and a high-quality Storage Bag.

She also pressed a set of array diagrams into his hands.

“This is the Fire Crow Array,” she explained solemnly. “It is a top-tier Foundation Establishment formation. Once activated, as long as your Spiritual Qi holds out, no ordinary Foundation Establishment cultivator can break through it easily.”

She then pointed to the Storage Bag. “Keep this safe. Remember the rule: never reveal your wealth. It isn’t that I don’t want to give you a Storage Ring, but with your current cultivation, wearing one would be like a toddler walking through a bandit’s market clutching a brick of gold. It invites death.”

“Most disciples don’t earn a Storage Bag until they reach Foundation Establishment,” she added. “As for Storage Rings… those are standard for Nascent Soul experts. If you stay within the sect, you might be safe, but out in the Jianghu, a ring on a weak cultivator is a death warrant.”

The weight of the items in his hands felt immense, but the weight in his heart was heavier.

Lin Ziyun’s motherly care washed over him. He had originally planned to use Wuya Hall merely as a stepping stone, intending to jump ship to another branch later. But Lin Ziyun treated him as her own flesh and blood. That sincere, protective love struck a chord deep in his soul—a hunger for maternal love that had spanned two lifetimes.

In his previous life, after he was falsely accused of murdering Su Qianyi, he had been thrown into the terrifying Suoxin Prison of the Enforcement Hall.

He remembered Lin Ziyun visiting him there. She had worn a plain robe, her eyes rimmed with red. She hadn’t asked how or why. She had looked him in the eye and asked only one thing.

“For so many years, I have treated you well. I only ask you this: did you have a hand in your Master’s death?”

When he denied it, she didn’t question him further. She simply turned and left, leaving behind three words.

“I believe you.”

Shortly after, he found a miraculous opportunity to escape the heavily guarded prison. If anyone told him Lin Ziyun hadn’t secretly orchestrated that escape, he wouldn’t believe them.

She had protected him across two lifetimes. Even when he was the prime suspect in her husband’s murder, she had trusted him unconditionally.

Humans are not made of grass or wood; how can I be without emotion?

Xiao Yifeng sighed internally, his heart heavy with gratitude. He bid farewell to the mother and daughter and walked out into the night, his mind churning.

Lin Ziyun watched his retreating back.

As he walked away, his figure tall and graceful—yushu linfeng—she felt a sudden wave of dizziness. A memory overlapped with reality.

Years ago, shortly after she married Su Qianyi, they had a son. The boy suffered from a congenital deficiency and was frail, but the couple treasured him like a rare jewel.

At that time, Su Qianyi had just ascended to the position of Hall Master. Despite his sharp tongue, he was soft-hearted. He had spared his rival—a senior brother who had fought him for the position—and merely confined him within the hall instead of executing him.

That mercy had been a mistake.

When their son was ten years old, he was poisoned by one of Su Qianyi’s hidden enemies within the hall. He died a tragic, painful death.

This was a wound in Lin Ziyun’s heart that never healed, a topic so taboo that no one in Wuya Hall dared to whisper it. Su Qianyi lived in constant guilt over it, compensating by doting on her excessively. It was years before they had Su Miaoqing, but the shadow of the first son never truly faded.

Then came the disciple recruitment ceremony.

When Lin Ziyun saw the ten-year-old Xiao Yifeng, she froze. He was handsome and refined, with a sallow, sickly complexion that mirrored her lost boy. She saw his eyes—full of spirit yet brimming with unshed tears—and his thin, lonely frame standing amidst the crowd, bewildered and helpless.

In that trance, she thought her son had returned.

That was why she had insisted Su Qianyi take him as a True Disciple. That was why she treated him with such intense, almost desperate affection.

Su Qianyi knew. He understood his wife’s heart perfectly.

And that was precisely why he disliked Xiao Yifeng.

Men and women process grief differently. To Su Qianyi, his son was gone. Dead. He did not want his wife projecting her love onto a stranger, treating this boy as a vessel for a ghost. Xiao Yifeng was Xiao Yifeng. His son could not be replaced.

But Su Qianyi couldn’t bear to shatter his wife’s illusion and hurt her all over again. So he pretended not to see, turning a blind eye to her favoritism while maintaining a cold distance himself.

If Xiao Yifeng knew the truth—that he was merely a substitute, a bandage for a grieving mother’s heart—