In his past life, the memories in Feng Wuji's mind consisted only of a shattered family, a dining table where seats were forever vacant, and the exhausted, distant voices of his parents over the phone.
He harbored a sense of dread, as if pushing open the door before him would reveal only the same cold, desolate solitude.
"Young Master?" Xu Qing'er noticed something amiss with Feng Wuji and quickly called out to him.
"Huh?" Feng Wuji's body gave a start as he snapped back to reality.
Xu Qing'er looked at him in bewilderment. "Young Master, are you still upset about leaving without saying goodbye last time?"
As it turned out, long before the battle with the Blood Moon Cult had taken place, Feng Wuji was already an Elite Disciple. His father, Feng Zhanlong, had demanded that Feng Wuji return to the Feng Family to inherit the family business.
After all, Feng Wuji was the only son in the family.
The Feng Family's primary business was armed escort transport, backed by numerous secular martial arts experts.
If a Cultivator at the Foundation Establishment Stage were to become the future head of the family, the Feng Family's path to prominence would be much smoother.
"Let's go inside first and talk," Feng Wuji said with a forced smile, though profound anxiety still churned within him.
He took a deep breath and finally lifted his foot, stepping heavily across the high threshold.
Almost simultaneously, a rapid, stumbling series of footsteps rang out from deep within the hallway, rushing toward them in a panicked flurry.
"Wuji! My boy!"
The cry pierced the brief silence of the courtyard.
A pale yellow figure shot forward like an arrow released from a bow, violently crashing into Feng Wuji's arms.
The tremendous impact caused Feng Wuji to stagger, and he instinctively tried to steady his stance.
Taking a closer look, he realized it was his mother, Lady Lü.
He stood stiffly, his arms awkwardly hanging by his sides, letting the woman's scalding tears rapidly soak the fabric of his shirt across his chest.
Before his transmigration, when Feng Wuji was only three years old, his mother had already left him.
This had left him with zero experience of "maternal love."
For a moment, he had no idea how to respond and was completely stunned.
Lady Lü remained utterly oblivious to her son's stiffness, holding him with every ounce of her strength. Her hands trembled as she stroked his cheeks over and over again.
"You've grown taller, and thinner! Oh, my boy, you've really suffered!" His mother rambled incoherently, her voice choked and hoarse, every single word steeped in tears. "Mother thought... thought that you had fallen out with your father and would never... It's good that you're back! It's so good that you're back!"
Feng Wuji's lips parted; he desperately wanted to cry out "Mother."
Yet the word felt far too foreign to him. Though it had clearly reached his throat, no matter what he did, he could not force it out.
After a long while, Feng Wuji managed to squeeze out through sheer force of will, "Mother..."
"Ah!" Hearing this, Lady Lü's eyes curved into crescent moons of joy.
At that moment, a steadier set of footsteps hurried closer from the direction of the main hall.
It was Feng Wuji's father, Feng Zhanlong.
The presence between father and son instantly made the warm atmosphere somewhat rigid.
The head of the family tried his utmost to maintain a calm facade, his strides heavy and steady.
Yet the slightly reddened rims of his eyes and his lips pressed together so tightly they had gone pale betrayed the turbulent waves raging within his heart.
He walked up close, his gaze sweeping repeatedly across his son's face, as if trying to confirm whether this dust-stained young man with a hint of unfamiliar detachment between his brows was truly the restless youth from his memories.
"Three years, and you finally deigned to come back?" Feng Zhanlong put his hands behind his back and turned around, facing away from Feng Wuji.
Feng Wuji clenched his fists. "Father."
"It's good that you're back. Qing'er sent word earlier, and the house has had food prepared for a while now. Go wash your hands and come eat!" Feng Zhanlong's voice was low.
"Alright." Feng Wuji didn't say anything superfluous, turning and heading toward the well.
A household servant had already drawn water, ready to wait upon Feng Wuji so he could wash up.
"Young Master, the water is nice and cool!" a young maid said.
Feng Wuji reached out, and the maid took his hand, using a loofah sponge to scrub him clean, rubbing his palms and between his fingers.
Feng Wuji glanced to the side and saw that Xu Qing'er was crying.
"Mother..." Xu Qing'er was currently being tightly embraced by a middle-aged woman wearing a simple, clean cloth dress.
The woman was slightly plump, her temples touched with frost—it was Nanny Yu, who had raised and cared for Feng Wuji since he was a child.
At this moment, where was even a shred of Nanny Yu's usual gentleness and composure?
She and her daughter had depended on each other for survival, so now that they were reunited, their tears were naturally tears of joy.
"Mother, I bought you a lot of nutritional supplements, and I bought some for Master and Madam too," Xu Qing'er said, wiping away her tears.
"Qing'er is still the sensible one," his father glanced sideways at Feng Wuji. "Unlike some brat who didn't bring back a damn thing. You could at least have brought a bottle of wine meant for Cultivators!"
"Who says I didn't bring any? I know you old codger loves to drink!" Feng Wuji retrieved a bottle of spirit wine from his Storage Ring. "It's brimming with spiritual energy. Mortals can drink it to prolong their lives, but you can't have more than an ounce at a time."
Feng Zhanlong's nose soured, and he nearly lost his composure. "Alright, go eat!"
At the dining table, his mother kept putting food into Feng Wuji's bowl, as if she feared he might starve.
Feng Wuji had no idea how to handle this, so he simply opened his stomach and ate his fill.
"The marriage arrangement with the Zhang Family—your father went and called it off for you a while ago," Lady Lü said suddenly.
Feng Wuji's pupils constricted. He remembered that he truly hadn't wanted to marry, single-mindedly desiring only to cultivate, which was why he had broken ties with his family.
He raised his head to look at his father. "Father..."
"It's fine. A brat like you is single-mindedly pursuing longevity; we couldn't possibly let some young lady wait until she's old, could we?" Feng Zhanlong said, taking a sip of wine.
"Thank you." Feng Wuji held back for a long time before managing to spit out those two words.
Feng Zhanlong's hand paused slightly, but soon he laughed. "However, the Feng Family cannot be without an heir! Before your mother and I kick the bucket, I must hold a grandson."
Feng Wuji smiled. "Father and Mother, rest assured, your son will keep this matter in mind!"
"You keep your father company and have a couple of drinks. Qing'er and I are going to go get your room tidied up for you. Since you came back so suddenly, the sleeping mat hasn't even been laid out yet!" Lady Lü stood up.
That night.
The bright moon hung high.
Feng Wuji emerged from the main hall and saw that a smile had already appeared on his father's face.
This should count as a "father-son reconciliation," right?
Feng Wuji smiled, a newfound sense of belonging suddenly blooming in his heart.
Previously, he had always believed he was completely out of place in this world, yet he never expected that he now actually had a home.
And parents who cherished him.
His old man had been in high spirits that evening and drank quite a bit, ending up stumbling and being carried back by Uncle Zhong, the steward.
Meanwhile, Feng Wuji returned to his own room.
As he passed the side chamber, Feng Wuji suddenly noticed that the lights in the room shared by Xu Qing'er and her mother were still on.
On the roof of the side chamber, a Silver-Winged Crane was looking up at the moon, absorbing the lunar Yin Qi to cultivate.
Thud!
Thud!
Thud!
Heavy, muffled thuds shattered the silence of Feng Wuji's room.
Several large wooden barrels stained with dark red, filthy residue appeared out of thin air on the polished floorboards. The barrel walls were sticky, and an intensely nauseating, fishy stench abruptly erupted.
"Dark Blood Mosquitoes." Feng Wuji reached out his hand.
As his voice trailed off, a swarm of mosquitoes flew out from the corner, and the largest one among them landed squarely in the palm of Feng Wuji's hand.
"Evolution, begin!"