218: Chapter 218 The Final Gift: The Decline of the Sun Family!

...

Clouds and mist filled the sky, obscuring the entire firmament over the Southern Mountains.

Unlike Great Elder Yun Tianfan's dissolution into the Dao back then, where the descending clouds and mist still carried a trace of warmth, Sun Yao's was ash-gray, cold and devoid of any warmth.

It was as if the obsessions and regrets of her entire life had transformed into this leaden cloud, weighing heavily on everyone's heart.

Daoist Yun Du stood atop the Main Peak, looking up at the clouds and mist.

The Daoist did not move, his hands merely tucked into his sleeves, his knuckles curling slightly.

He knew this day would come.

From the day Sun Yao announced her death seclusion, he had been waiting for this day.

But now that it was actually here, the stone that had been hanging in his heart for over a decade did not fall; instead, it sank even deeper.

The clouds and mist lingered over Baifeng Cloud Gorge for several hours before finally dispersing slowly, merging into this blessed land...

Strands of Cloud Dao qi sank into the sea of clouds within the gorge.

The density of the entire sea of clouds surged by several tenths in an instant, and the originally thin Cloud Dao qi became increasingly dense.

"This girl..."

Daoist Yun Du shook his head secretly.

The spiritual energy dissipated during Sun Yao's dissolution was even purer than Great Elder Yun Tianfan's.

A century of accumulation and her entire cultivation were completely returned to Baifeng Cloud Gorge. The blessed land, which was originally expected to take another century to form, had this fire lit under it by her...

And the progress was suddenly shortened by several decades.

Perhaps the next strand of Cloud Dao qi is predicted to condense in just sixty years.

It was just unknown who would use their life to seek the Golden Core realm next.

...

Inside the Meeting Hall, white banners were hung once again.

In just a few short decades, White Cloud Temple had seen two consecutive failures in Core Formation. The last one was Great Elder Yun Tianfan, and this time it was Sun Yao.

The two funerals left the entire Sect in a state of panic and unease.

Many Disciples, witnessing this scene of death and the dissolution of one's Dao, lost their drive to ascend on the spot. Though some remained firm in resolve, they could not help but be shaken.

"The Grand Elder's Core Formation failed back then because he lacked heaven and earth qi. Now, Junior Martial Uncle Sun Yao had the Cloud Dao Qi in hand, so how could she also..."

"Did you not see the celestial phenomenon that day?"

"The phenomenon dispersed so quickly; the core embryo definitely failed to solidify."

"Sigh, this lineage of the Sun Clan is probably going to lose its roots."

Private discussions quietly spread throughout the Sect.

Sun Yao was one of only two Golden Core seeds of the Sun Clan's current generation.

Had she succeeded in Core Formation, the Sun Clan could have enjoyed another few centuries of glory. But since she failed, the Sun Clan now had half a foot out of White Cloud Temple's core circle.

This was something everyone knew all too well.

Sun Mao knelt before Sun Yao's spirit tablet.

His hair had turned completely white overnight.

What were once merely grizzled temples had now spread into a full head of silver hair. His old face was deeply lined with wrinkles, making him look as if he had aged twenty years.

He was already advanced in years. Although his cultivation at the Foundation Establishment Middle Stage could extend his lifespan, the successive blows of losing his brother and sister had completely drained his vitality.

First, Sun Lin and Sun Qiyan had perished in the Kunyuan Secret Realm, and not even their bones could be brought back.

Then, Sun Yao had dissolved into the Dao and perished just like that in her quiet room.

Sun Yao and Sun Lin were his closest kin, and Sun Qiyan was a junior in whom he had placed high hopes. Now, they were all gone.

"Uncle Mao."

Sun Chengzhu knelt by his side, his voice hoarse.

Sun Mao did not look back; he merely reached out a withered hand and pressed it onto Sun Chengzhu's shoulder.

"Chengzu."

"Your nephew is here."

"The Sun Clan... is in your hands now."

These words were spoken extremely softly.

As softly as a falling leaf drifting into the cold wind of late autumn.

Sun Chengzhu's body trembled, and he kowtowed deeply. "Your nephew... accepts the charge."

...

After the first seven days of mourning for Sun Yao, Sun Mao fell ill.

At first, it was just a cough—intermittent and not particularly violent. Everyone assumed he was just suffering from excessive grief that had affected his lungs, so they did not pay it much mind.

But later on, the coughing fit grew increasingly severe. He often coughed up blood, his lungs withered, his heart vessels were damaged, and no medicine or treatment could cure him...

The root of Sun Mao's illness was of the mind.

For a Family to lose its Core Disciples across two consecutive generations was more than anyone could bear. Moreover, Sun Mao had already been pushing himself to the limit, having developed chronic ailments back when the Sun Clan was nearly wiped out.

He had originally been holding on by a single thread of breath to manage the Sect's affairs and support the Sun Clan.

But now that breath had escaped him, and his entire being was like a kite with a severed string, drifting downward, with very little of his lifespan remaining...

...

When the news reached Zixiao Peak, Shi Jian was lying by the edge of the Thunder Pool, basking in the sun.

After hearing about Sun Mao's condition, he remained silent for a long while.

Finally, he let out a sigh. "The Sun Clan's fortune in this generation has run its course."

"So what?"

"Could it be that you've felt a stir of compassion?"

Zi Xiao's voice echoed in his mind. Shi Jian smiled and shook his head.

"How could I?"

"Destiny is not something that can be forced."

"The Sun Clan currently has over a hundred Cultivators, but in the cheng generation, only Sun Chengzhu has reached Foundation Establishment. In the Qi generation, Sun Qiyan is dead, and the rest are mediocre."

"As for the fifth generation, the Yuan generation, not many capable people have emerged either—just a few prospects with Three Spiritual Roots, and they haven't grown up yet."

"My relationship with the Sun Clan is limited to the first three generations. If Sun Chengzhu also perishes in the end, I will probably abandon the Sun Clan and cultivate another human faction to do my bidding..."

"A gap in succession," Zi Xiao remarked.

"It's more than just a gap in succession."

"The Sun Clan is now like a severed vine. A few leaves are still hanging on it, making it look decent, but in truth, it is already hollowed out at the base."

"So you're sure you won't lend a hand?"

"How would I help?"

Shi Jian lifted his eyelids. "I have already given the Sun Clan enough. The heaven and earth qi belongs to White Cloud Temple; it is not my personal property."

"I can show favoritism once or twice, but I cannot do so for a lifetime."

"If the Sun Clan wants to rise again, they must ultimately rely on themselves."

"What I can do is protect the Sun Clan from ruin for two hundred years according to our agreement back then. Counting it up, it has already been a hundred and seventy or eighty years."

"In the future, if the Sun Clan cannot stand on their own feet and prove their value, perhaps I will no longer concern myself with them..."

"They are humans, and I am a demon."

"I don't owe them anything, and they don't owe me anything. Rather than me needing them, perhaps they need me more..."

...

Once Sun Mao fell ill, he never got out of bed again.

Lying in bed, the periods of time he remained conscious each day grew shorter and shorter.

Most of the time he was in a deep sleep. On the rare occasions he woke up, he would ask about trivial matters—such as how Sun Chengzhu's cultivation was progressing, whether those children of the Yuan generation had made any improvement, and how the business of the shops in White Cloud Immortal City was doing. He asked about everything down to the smallest detail...

It was as if he wanted to pour out all the worries he had accumulated over the past hundred-plus years in his final moments, as if making his last arrangements.

Sun Chengzhu often came to pay his respects.

He would sit by the bedside and answer his clan uncle's questions one by one.

Sometimes, as his granduncle listened, he would drift back to sleep. He would then sit there quietly, looking at that aged and haggard face, his heart feeling as if it were being repeatedly squeezed by an invisible hand.

That was an indescribable, profound sorrow.

...