197: Chapter 197 The Seed of Doubt

Hun Muxiao had been back in the Soul Realm for some time.

Every morning, she would go to the back mountain to practice her swordsmanship as usual. The sword light of the blood abyss sword was even sharper than it had been two years ago, and her cultivation at the peak of the Five-Star Dou Sheng allowed her sword energy to easily cleave through the thin mist above the ghost bell orchid meadow in the back mountain.

Her younger sisters would occasionally come to watch; Hun Muqing would sit on a rock, holding her sword, watching the entire set of sword techniques without saying a word before silently leaving, while Hun Muling would chatter away, pulling Hun Musheng along to discuss how amazing her eldest sister's sword strike had been and whether she could teach her.

The days passed very peacefully, so peacefully that Hun Muxiao had almost forgotten the exhaustion of wandering outside for the past two years. But there are some things that, once you start paying attention to them, can never be ignored again.

That evening, her younger sisters were sparring in the courtyard. Hun Muqing and Hun Muxian were practicing together, the Golden Emperor Sky Burning Flame and the phantom of the Nine-Colored Snake Scales weaving into a brilliant curtain of light in the courtyard. Leaning against a pillar, Hun Muxiao watched them, her gaze shifting from Hun Muxian's face to Hun Muqing's, then from Hun Muqing to Hun Muling, who was flipping through a movement Dou Technique under the corridor, then to Hun Musheng, who was crouching by the flower bed, and finally to Hun Mulan, who was lying on the stone table teasing a Void Beast cub.

She suddenly discovered something.

Hun Muxian's brows and eyes looked exactly like Aunt Xun'er, but the lines of her nose and chin resembled Father. Muqing's eyes and face shape followed Mother, but the contours of her mouth and jaw also resembled Father. Hun Muling's peach blossom eyes were practically a carbon copy of Aunt Yaoyao, but the curve of her mouth when she smiled faintly held the shadow of Hun Feng. When Hun Musheng was quiet, she resembled Aunt Xiao Yi Xian, but the way she knitted her brows in thought when focused was exactly like Hun Feng. Hun Mulan was the youngest, and her features had not fully developed yet, but the unbridled joy she showed when giggling while holding the Void Beast cub clearly inherited Hun Feng's temperament.

All six younger sisters resembled Father to some degree.

Except for her.

Hun Muxiao subconsciously raised her hand to touch her own face. Her brows and eyes resembled Medusa, cold and sharp; her face shape resembled Medusa, delicate and petite; her temperament resembled Medusa, icy and carrying an innate majesty. Even that cunning and lively spirit of hers was said by some to resemble Aunt Yaoyao. But no one had ever said she resembled Father. When she was little, she thought it was because she looked more like Mother, and that it was no surprise that her sisters followed their respective aunts' appearances. But today, as she stared at her sisters' faces one by one, she suddenly felt that something was wrong. Hun Muqing was also Mother's daughter, yet the jawline of Hun Muqing clearly had the contours of Hun Feng. And she—from head to toe, could not find a single trace of Hun Feng.

She was uncharacteristically silent at dinner. Hun Muling chattered away about a small bottleneck she encountered during cultivation today, Hun Muxian analyzed a few points for her, Hun Muqing continued to pick up food quietly, and only Hun Mulan would occasionally spout innocent childish words that made the whole table burst into laughter. Hun Muxiao held her bowl, her gaze sweeping back and forth across her sisters' faces, and the more she looked, the heavier the indescribable feeling in her heart became. Yao Yao noticed her abnormality and asked why she was as quiet as Hun Muqing today. Hun Muxiao smiled and said she was thinking about a new set of sword moves.

She did not tell anyone about the doubts in her heart. After dinner, she did not go to the study to chat with Hun Feng as usual, but returned to her room alone. She sat in front of the bronze mirror, looking at the face in the mirror that was becoming increasingly unfamiliar—the high bridge of the nose, the slightly upturned corners of the eyes, and the tightly pursed thin lips. When she was a child, she often stood beside Mother to compare heights in front of the mirror, and back then, she was most proud that everyone said she was growing to look more and more like Mother. But now she realized that she did not look like Father. It wasn't that she didn't look much like him; it was that she didn't look like him at all.

She tried to recall things from before she was five. Where was she before she was five? In the Jia Ma Empire, at the Starfall Pavilion. She vaguely remembered a large bamboo forest there, remembered an uncle who always wore black clothes often holding her in the courtyard to bask in the sun, remembered a gentle woman who braided her hair, and remembered an old man who taught her to recognize characters. But those memories seemed to be covered by a veil; the harder she tried to think, the blurrier the images became. She remembered that the first time she called Hun Feng "Father" was in the East Courtyard of the Soul Realm; she was about five or six years old then, and ever since then, she had always called him Father. But what about before that? Before she was five, had she called anyone else Father? Who was that uncle in black? Who was that gentle woman who braided her hair? Why was she at the Starfall Pavilion? And why did she come to the Soul Realm?

She couldn't remember. No matter how she tried, she couldn't remember. It wasn't that she didn't have memories—she remembered everything after the age of five very clearly: every blade of grass and tree in the Soul Realm, every word Father said, every smile from Mother, and every teasing remark from the aunts, she remembered them all. But things from before the age of five seemed to have been sliced clean off by someone using an extremely sharp blade, leaving only some extremely blurry fragments.

She remembered one more thing. She was six or seven years older than Hun Muxian. Mother and Father's marriage happened after that; she had always known this sequence, but she had never thought much about it before. But if Mother had given birth to her before marrying Father, then who was her biological father? If her biological father was Hun Feng, then why did all her younger sisters resemble Father to some degree, but only she did not? If her biological father was not Hun Feng—then who was she?

The bronze mirror reflected her pair of peach blossom eyes. These were not Father's eyes, nor were they Mother's eyes. Mother had said that her eyes resembled Aunt Yaoyao's because she was always with Aunt Yaoyao when she was little, and through constant influence, she had even picked up her gaze. She used to think this explanation was reasonable, but now she suddenly remembered something—Aunt Yaoyao had grown up with Father since they were children, and Aunt Yaoyao's bloodline was pure Hun Clan blood-attribute Dou Qi. Why did she have Aunt Yaoyao's eyes? Could it be that just because of constant influence, even the eye shape could become the same?

The more she thought, the more her head hurt; countless questions surged in her mind, none of which had answers, and every one of them pointed in the same direction. She dared not think any further.

She pushed open the door and walked into the courtyard. Moonlight spilled down through the gaps in the leaves of the dark-leaf osmanthus, casting mottled light and shadows on the stone table. She walked to the tree and looked up at the stars in the night sky, suddenly feeling very cold. If her guess was true—if she was not Father's biological daughter—then what did the "Father" she had called all these years amount to? And as she had carried herself as the eldest young lady of the Hun Clan all these years, was there something else hidden in the eyes of those branch family disciples besides awe when they looked at her? When those clan elders praised her, saying "She is truly the daughter of the Young Master," were they laughing at her?

She stood there for a long time, only returning to the room when the night wind chilled her fingertips. She did not go to the study to find Hun Feng, nor did she go to find Medusa. She simply sat back down in front of the bronze mirror, looking at herself in the mirror, as if looking at a stranger. Tomorrow, she would go find Mother to ask clearly. But tonight, she needed to be alone for a while.