Lauren let out a mocking chuckle.

  “And yet I saw you desperately trying to break their protective formation. And what about all these people you called over? Were they just there to watch the scenery?”

  The cultivators Indiana had summoned instantly realized the situation was spiraling out of control. Desperate to clear themselves of any blame, they hurriedly spoke up:

  “We didn’t know anything!”

  “Indiana only said she and Senior Brother Timothy were being bullied!”

  “She asked us to come help—nothing more!”

  Herbert’s temples throbbed violently.

  “And what you saw… matched what she described?”

  They had, in fact, all witnessed the ruins of the Evercrest estate. With bitter expressions, they nodded.

  Herbert staggered slightly, nearly fainting from rage.

  He forcefully steadied his breathing before speaking again.

  “If you wanted to be included in the family register, you should have discussed it properly with your elders. If you were patient, polite, and demonstrated your worth, who would have rejected you?”

  “Why did it escalate into open warfare?”

  “I—I didn’t!” Indiana sobbed. “My uncles and aunts all agreed! Only Grandpa opposed it!”

  Herbert’s gaze sharpened.

  “So because he opposed it, you wanted to wipe out the entire Evercrest family?”

  “No!” she cried.

  “Still lying?” Herbert roared. “Then tell me—were her words true or false?”

  Indiana’s body trembled. She glanced at Lauren, drew a shaky breath, and slowly closed her eyes.

  “…Yes,” she said quietly. “But that wasn’t my intention. Grandpa refused so harshly that it angered my senior brother. They argued. Then things spiraled out of control.”

  “You’re full of shit!” Herbert exploded.

  “You wretched, venomous child—do you still not recognize your own crime?!”

  He stood abruptly and struck out with a palm.

  Boom!

  Indiana was sent flying across the hall, crashing violently into the massive doors. Blood sprayed from her mouth as she collapsed to the floor.

  Herbert hadn’t originally been furious with her.

  But the moment he heard her push the blame onto the unconscious Timothy, his rage completely detonated.

  “Master… Master…”

  “Don’t call me that!” Herbert snapped. “For heaven’s sake, you’re driving me insane!”

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  “What kind of hatred does Timothy even have against them? If it weren’t for you, he would never have gone to that cursed backwater in the first place! You ruined him, and now you still dare to shove the blame onto him?!”

  He pounded his chest in raw frustration.

  “I never should have let you two get involved with each other. You’re a damn jinx! Ever since Timothy got together with you, nothing good has happened. He made enemies everywhere just for your sake!”

  “No, that’s not—”

  “Shut up!” Herbert roared. “You still dare say it’s not? Wasn’t it you who egged him on to challenge all the so-called righteous sects to establish his authority?!”

  Indiana stared at him in disbelief.

  “That was my idea. And didn’t you agree to it back then?”

  “Bah!” Herbert spat. “I must have been out of my damn mind to agree.”

  If he wanted the boundary marker, he should’ve taken it quietly, in the shadows. Instead, he let Timothy make a grand show of it—turning the entire cultivation world into enemies. And in the end, the marker was still stolen.

  The more Herbert thought about it, the more rage churned in his chest.

  Forget it. That incident had happened too many years ago. He didn’t even want to think about it anymore.

  His eyes returned to Timothy’s half-dead body on the ice platform. His heart twisted in agony.

  “Timothy isn’t a reckless fool,” Herbert said hoarsely. “If you hadn’t kept whispering poison in his ear, he would never have attempted to wipe out an entire family!”

  Indiana wiped at her bloodstained tears.

  “Master, I really didn’t. I tried to persuade my senior brother.”

  “Persuade?” Herbert sneered. “That was pouring oil on the fire!”

  Indiana’s mind went blank.

  Her master—who had always doted on her, who had always trusted her without question—now looked at her as if she were a stranger.

  Even her fellow disciples said nothing. Not one of them spoke up for her.

  Why…?

  Why did this happen?

  Why was everything collapsing at once?

  At last, she choked out through her sobs:

  “I don’t ask for much. I just don’t want to be laughed at. They whisper behind my back that I was born of a prostitute. Master, do you have any idea how it feels? I was terrified every day that I’d be ridiculed! I only wanted a proper place in the family… I never imagined it would end like this.”

  Herbert, the Immortal Venerable, staggered back into his chair as if the strength had been sucked from his body.

  “There’s a saying among mortals,” he said slowly. “‘A true hero doesn’t ask about his origins.’”

  “Being born of a prostitute—so what? What’s so shameful about that?”

  “Master,” Indiana cried, “you’re not me. How could you possibly understand the torment I’ve endured?”

  “I was in seclusion trying to break into the Nascent Soul stage. My inner demons were all fear—fear of mockery, fear of being exposed—”

  “Don’t understand?” Herbert cut in quietly. “How could I *not* understand?”

  He lifted his head, his eyes bloodshot, a bitter laugh crawling from his throat.

  “I’m glorious now, aren’t I? Do you even know what my name was?”

  “Porky. Hah… Porky.”

  His laughter was hoarse, twisted with self-mockery.

  Even Drake, seated calmly at the side, turned to look at him in surprise.

  “I was born to a slave in Blackstone,” Herbert went on. “My mother didn’t even know who my father was. Hah… she truly didn’t.”

  “My master gave me the name Porky.”

  The hall fell dead silent.

  Everyone understood what kind of “slave” he meant. In certain great families, there were communal breeding slaves—less than human, never acknowledged as people.

  No one had ever imagined that Herbert’s origins were this tragic.

  “When I was young, I crawled on the ground and let my master’s son ride me like a horse,” Herbert said flatly. “If not for a Moonlit Sect Daoist who happened to pass through Blackstone on a talent scouting trip—and impulsively told me to take a test—where would I be now?”

  “I’d still be a Porky in Blackstone, until the day I died.”

  His voice echoed through the hall.

  No one dared to breathe.

  Now it made sense why Herbert loathed that name so deeply. It was carved from humiliation.

  Even Lauren felt a faint, unexpected ache in her chest.

  Herbert’s face was flushed, veins standing out along his temples.

  Drake lightly tapped his fingers against the armrest. The crisp sound snapped Herbert back to awareness.

  “You’ve got quite the memory,” Drake said calmly. “You still remember things from thousands of years ago.”

  Herbert froze for a heartbeat, then steadied himself.

  “With your state of mind,” Drake continued, “how could you possibly cultivate in seclusion? That Blood Qi Pill was wasted on you.”