Chapter 66: From Now On, I Live for Myself
This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation
Qin Ming’s head throbbed with excruciating pain, as if a dull axe was hacking at his skull over and over. It felt as though his head was splitting open, his vision darkened, and the agony threatened to make him faint.
He took a deep breath, but it didn’t help. His body staggered, emotions surging wildly inside him like flames consuming his very core.
“Why?” he whispered through the unbearable pain. “Why would they do this to me?” He had imagined many scenarios, but not once did he think it would be his own parents who instructed Cui Hong to treat him this way.
The realization tore at his soul like claws, leaving his body trembling. It was a pain far worse than when the feather-clothed youth had shattered his arm and fractured his skull with that glowing purple bamboo staff.
Stumbling backward, Qin Ming felt fragments of memories flashing through his mind. No wonder, during his third awakening, he had dipped his finger in coarse tea and written a single word on the table: Abandon.
Now he remembered more. Before the feather-clothed youth found him, when he still lived in that peaceful village, he had silently written that same word one night: Abandon.
Then came the fire. A sudden, devastating inferno swallowed the village, as hordes of powerful fighters descended upon it, their battle cries deafening. Qin Ming had remained silent throughout, facing the life-and-death calamity with a calm that bordered on detachment. He simply watched, saying nothing.
“Was I already so disillusioned back then that I didn’t want to speak?” Qin Ming muttered to himself, standing in the barren desert as his pounding headache forced him to relive that night. “Was it disappointment? Or maybe a deep sadness and a sense of loss?”
He could see his younger self clearly now. Even as the fire threatened to engulf him, his expression remained unchanged. In the end, he had gazed toward the dark sky with a look of quiet resignation, as if he had let go of everything.
“At the final moment, did I feel… relieved?” Qin Ming mused. “I must have known this would happen. And when it finally did, I could face it with calm.”
Standing there in the desolate wasteland, Qin Ming’s eyes turned red as he thought of his past self. The emotions welling up inside him were overwhelming—anger, frustration, defiance. They came from the deepest corners of his heart.
“Chong He, are you alright?” Cui Hong’s voice broke through his thoughts, tinged with concern. He stepped forward hesitantly.
“Don’t come any closer!” Qin Ming’s voice was low and commanding.
The flames roared in his mind again. He saw the crumbling beams of his childhood home, nearly crushing him as they burned. Back then, he hadn’t cared about life or death. Two years ago, in that moment of silent surrender, he had let out a final sigh, as though leaving everything behind.
But now, things were different.
“I lost so much of my memory after that feather-clothed youth nearly beat me to death,” Qin Ming said bitterly. “Is that why I can’t let go of the past? Why I can’t understand what made me so resigned that night?”
The memories came rushing back like shards of glass cutting through his mind. He saw glimpses of a distant time, even before the feather-clothed youth entered his life.
Another night. He saw many people.
It was a much earlier memory—before he was cast out, before he encountered the Cui family. In the vision, he stood surrounded by a crowd. Across from him were a middle-aged man and woman, watching as he climbed into a bronze carriage engraved with cloud patterns.
The man was stern, his gaze piercing and steady, as though it could see into a person’s soul. He said nothing as Qin Ming left. Beside him, the woman wore an elegant palace robe, her hair styled in a high bun with a golden feather hairpin gleaming in the light. Her delicate face was emotionless as she watched him depart.
Even the elders nearby, vibrant with energy, seemed subdued by the couple’s presence. They stood at a respectful distance, unwilling to get too close.
In the memory, Qin Ming turned to look back. All he saw were their retreating figures. The man and woman were already walking away, taking their entourage with them. Qin Ming opened his mouth, as if to call out to them, but no words came.
The memory was fragmented and hazy, but Qin Ming could feel the intense emotions of his younger self—grief, longing, and a deep, unspoken resentment.
“Chong He, are you sure you’re okay?” Cui Hong asked again, his face full of worry.
Qin Ming’s gaze hardened. “I’m fine. In fact, I’m doing great—much better, now that I have nothing to do with you or your family.”
The searing pain in his head began to fade. Wiping his face, Qin Ming realized there were tears streaming down his cheeks. Annoyed, he quickly brushed them away. He didn’t even know when he’d started crying, but it made him furious.
Tears? He didn’t need them. They were a weakness he had no use for anymore. The past was the past, and it deserved to be left behind. What was there to cry about?
Expressionless, Qin Ming spoke again. “I used to think I must’ve done something wrong. But now I know—I never owed you anything. I never betrayed the Cui family. Yet here you are again, dragging me back into this mess. What more do you want from me?”
Cui Hong hesitated, guilt flashing across his face. “I came here for two reasons,” he admitted. “To find the Yin-Yang Elixir and to take care of your arrangements. There’s a residence prepared for you. You’ll be safe there, with people to protect you. There’s no need for you to venture into the outside world.”
“One sentence, and you think you can destroy my future?” Qin Ming’s voice was sharp and cutting, his eyes blazing with fury.
He remembered the countless times he’d been battered and bloodied, wandering through snow-covered lands like a beggar. If it hadn’t been for the people of Twin Trees Village taking him in, he would’ve died.
Now, after all he had fought for, after risking his life in the mountains to carve out his own path, they wanted to lock him away in this remote corner of the world with a few empty promises. Why should he accept that? Everything he had, he had earned with his own blood and sweat—without a single ounce of help from the Cui family.
Cui Hong fell silent, his guilt deepening. He wanted to say something, but the weight of his mission held him back. Failure was not an option.
After a long silence, Cui Hong finally spoke with grave seriousness, his voice steady but heavy with meaning. “Chong He, I imagine you’ve started practicing one of the local awakening methods, haven’t you? After all, the technique from the silk script can’t be cultivated without the guidance of those who came before us—it’s impossible now. These local methods, though, they aren’t anything remarkable. Even if you put in all your effort and drain yourself completely, at best, you’ll become a skilled fighter in this small, insignificant place.
“But if you were to step outside of this little world, you’d be nothing more than a shadow, not even close to the kind of brilliance real powerhouses command. So why not stop now, while you’ve only just started? Break off this path to awakening and settle here instead. You could live a life of peace and prosperity, cared for and protected. Isn’t that better?”
Qin Ming felt a surge of heat rise in his chest, a fiery indignation that spread through him like wildfire. His path, his life—who were they to decide it for him?
“Let me get this straight,” he said, his voice sharper now. “You mean to tell me that no matter whether it’s the silk script’s method or any other awakening method, you’ll stop me? You’ll obey orders to come after me, won’t you?”
Cui Hong stayed silent.
“My parents’ decision…” Qin Ming’s gaze wandered toward the vast, pitch-black desert. Anger swirled within him, but beneath it was a deep sense of helplessness.
The hardships he’d endured in the past had brought him face-to-face with death—he had even tasted it and returned—but he had never been afraid. Yet the knife of familial betrayal, the wound it left, was something he wasn’t prepared for.
Fragments of memory flitted through his mind, broken and incomplete, like a shattered mirror reflecting bits and pieces of the truth. From the word “abandon,” he’d pieced together a vague, heart-wrenching picture. Abandoned child. Chess piece. Either one was enough to make his breathing rough and unsteady. He couldn’t let it go.
He was sure of one thing: he had done nothing to wrong the Cui family. He’d risked his life for them, nearly died for them, and yet here he was—cast aside to this desolate, remote land.
The firelight in his mind burned brighter, illuminating a montage of blurry images. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became. The Cui family—many among them—had known exactly what was going to happen that fateful night.
“Did they throw me out there just to take the hit?”
What he couldn’t understand, though, was why. Why, after everything, after he had been brought so low, did they still choose to treat him this way?
The despair he’d once felt, the kind that made life itself seem like a cruel illusion pieced together by lies, was resurfacing. The faith he’d clung to back then had crumbled.
Cui Hong stepped forward, his silence laden with regret. Despite his conflicted feelings, he was preparing to act.
“Can you at least tell me everything I’ve been through?” Qin Ming asked suddenly, pointing to his head. “You must have seen what happened that night. My skull was shattered in three places by that feather-cloaked youth. I’ve lost so much of my memory. If you’re going to make a move, at least let me die with some understanding.”
“What?” Cui Hong’s expression shifted dramatically. He seemed both shocked and remorseful. “I had no idea… You’ve lost your memory? That’s our failure. We should have reached you sooner. I’m sorry, young master—Chong He.”
His voice quivered with emotion. “I didn’t come here to kill you. My mission is to sever your path to awakening. Afterward, no one will target you again. You could marry, have children, and live a peaceful life, free from conflict.”
“How is that any different from killing me?” Qin Ming’s voice rose. “I’ve chosen this path to awakening—it’s my future. What right do you have to cut it off? I’ve forgotten everything about my past, and all I have left are scattered fragments. What more are you afraid of?”
“How could it come to this?” A startled voice broke the tense silence. On the rugged path at the edge of the desert stood Li Qing Yue, her feathered robes shimmering faintly. Beside her were her maid and two men in golden armor, as well as Meng Xing Hai, the new City Lord of Red Glow City.
The desert fell silent again.
Cui Hong remained where he was, staring at the young man before him.
Qin Ming realized the inevitable—Cui Hong was going to act. He spoke, his voice tinged with bitterness. “A weak family—my neighbors, just an ordinary couple—could care for their two children with warmth and love. They’d protect them with their lives. But a millennial clan? From this day forward, we have nothing to do with each other. Let’s leave it at that.”
In that moment, a voice deep within Qin Ming seemed to sigh, urging him to let it go. They were his parents, after all. He shouldn’t hold on to the blame. He had paid his dues; it was time to move on. He could leave it all behind.
But he shook his head. He couldn’t. Not yet.
“I’ve already died once,” Qin Ming declared, his voice echoing across the barren desert. “From now on, I am no longer Cui Chong He. The one standing here, alive again, is Qin Ming. From this moment on, I will live for myself!”