Chapter 176 He Left Something for You, Waiting…

Chapter 176: He Left Something for You... Waiting

Finally, the fox vanished from sight, the black mist gradually faded, and the scene before them warped and blurred.

Yet A Chan found it hard to look away. The number of tails a fox spirit possessed was closely tied to their cultivation, making nine-tailed foxes exceedingly rare in this world.

Apart from her grandmother on Qingyu Mountain, there was only... her father.

The High Priest's voice broke the silence: "Every awakening of this altar reveals different visions."

"All manifestations of the Netherworld?" Bai Xiuming, unusually intrigued by the altar, was the first to ask.

The High Priest sighed softly. "Yes."

"What comes next?"

"Nothing needs to be done."

A warm breeze swept around the altar, brushing against them like an invisible presence gently swishing its tail as it passed by.

As the wind faded, a massive skeletal phantom emerged from the altar, appearing in A Chan's line of sight.

It was the remains of a nine-tailed fox spirit, now lying peacefully beneath the earth. His time had frozen many, many years ago, unaffected by the world's noise or ruin.

A Chan's vision blurred. So her father had never left—he had buried himself here.

Her thoughts emptied. Her memories of her father had already grown faint, yet she knew he had been powerful, meant to outlive her.

She had always assumed they disliked her, didn't care if she lived or died, never imagining that her father was already gone.

Was it when she deceived herself and A Mian on Qingyu Mountain many, many years ago, insisting their father would come for them, that he had already been buried beneath this earth?

The answer she had desperately sought now had its conclusion.

Tears silently streaked her cheeks as A Chan fought for breath, her chest tight with pain.

Bai Xiuming was the first to notice her distress. He steadied her unsteady body, letting her lean against him. "What's wrong? Are you in pain?"

Clutching his sleeve, A Chan whispered between breaths, "Bai Xiuming, my heart hurts."

Bai Xiuming looked up at the High Priest, his gaze icy, his tone laced with distrust. "High Priest?"

The High Priest stepped forward and, under Bai Xiuming's watchful eyes, gently pressed on A Chan's wrists and the side of her neck. The subtle herbal bitterness clinging to the High Priest gradually soothed A Chan's emotions.

Seeing her condition ease, Bai Xiuming asked, "What happened to her?"

The High Priest smiled reassuringly at A Chan, stroking her soft hair. "Nothing serious. A Chan's frail, and the lingering demon qi from the altar affected her mind. She just needs some rest."

With this explanation, A Chan's reaction made more sense now.

Bai Xiuming didn't question it further. He turned to A Chan, speaking gently, "Let me take you outside first, alright?"

A Chan shook her head. "I want to stay here."

"Please."

She continued shaking her head, gazing at him silently. Her lashes were still damp, her eyes rimmed red, her sorrowful plea in her eyes.

Under such a gaze, Bai Xiuming couldn't say no to her anything.

Reluctantly, he conceded, "Fine, you can stay. But if you feel unwell, tell me immediately."

"Okay," A Chan nodded obediently.

While Bai Xiuming's attention remained fixed on A Chan, the massive skeletal phantom gradually shrank, shrinking to hover at the center of the altar.

The High Priest spoke to Bai Xiuming, "Now we may honor Lord Xi Jing. Leave A Chan to me."

Bai Xiuming hesitated before releasing A Chan, allowing the High Priest to support her.

The High Priest held A Chan's slender wrist—her hands slightly rough but warm.

Bai Xiuming approached the altar's edge, taking out a wine jug and two cups.

Placing the cups on the ground, he poured wine into both, the scent of strong wine spreading.

Lifting the right cup, he tilted it slightly, letting the wine spill onto the earth.

"I, your junior, Bai Xiuming, stand in for my father, Bai Yu, to bid you farewell, Elder."

He poured three libations before setting the empty vessel back in place. The wine in the other cup rippled faintly, mirroring the heavens.

A Chan watched Bai Xiuming's back. She had known he was here for King Ming to honor a friend, but never imagined that friend would be connected to her.

So the thunder that had roared through the capital that night had been her father. The fallen Fifth Realm cultivator she assumed was a stranger—was him.

She had been asleep then, hearing nothing.

A Chan couldn't help but think that she and her father weren't fated to be family. Did he remember us when he passed? Had he ever considered telling his own children?

Probably not. Had she not come here, she might never have learned the truth.

If her father was gone, what of her mother? Was she... still alive?

Lost in her thoughts, A Chan only snapped out of it when Bai Xiuming finished his rites and walked back toward her.

Bai Xiuming reclaimed A Chan from the High Priest, lifting her into his arms.

She clung to his neck, stealing one last look at the altar.

The skeletal phantom had all but vanished, soon to be buried once more, lost to time.

"Shall we go back?" Bai Xiuming tilted his head slightly to look at her.

A Chan reluctantly forced herself to look forward. The High Priest walked ahead as Bai Xiuming carried her behind.

Even after some distance, A Chan had to glance back.

The phantom was gone, leaving only the empty, lonely altar behind.

It was a tomb of forgotten time.

On the return journey, A Chan stayed withdrawn.

She dozed off in Bai Xiuming's arms, rocked to sleep by the journey.

When she awoke, she found herself not in yesterday's lodgings but on a round wooden bed, its curtains unmistakably patterned in the Witch Clan style.

Sitting up, she realized the black fur pelt beneath her—identical to what she'd seen in the High Priest's quarters.

"You're awake?" The voice spoke as footsteps approached.

The High Priest walked up from downstairs, carrying a bowl of herbal tonic.

She approached the bedside and handed the tonic to A Chan. "Your emotions were too erratic—it’s bad for your health. This is a calming tonic. Drink it while it's warm."

A Chan took the bowl. The tonic must have cooled slightly, as the temperature was just right. She tilted her head back, held her breath, and drank the whole bowl in one gulp.

After finishing the medicine, she returned the bowl to the High Priest and received a green fruit in exchange.

The High Priest said to her, "In our Witch Clan, whenever a child falls ill, their elders always find them fruit to eat. Go on, try it—it's very sweet."

A Chan picked up the fruit and took a bite. It was indeed sweet.

The fruit wasn’t large, so she finished it in a few bites, and the bitter taste of the medicine vanished from her mouth.

Only then did A Chan speak up: "High Priest, where is Bai Xiuming?"

The High Priest smiled. "On the way back, you didn’t look well, so he carried you to me. He stayed with you at first, but I thought he was in the way and had Lie Jiang drag him off to help set up the altar."

Bai Xiuming hadn’t wanted to leave A Chan’s side, but the High Priest said she needed to perform a blessing ritual for A Chan and couldn’t be disturbed—afterward, A Chan’s health would improve.

He had always been deeply concerned about A Chan’s well-being. Though she had seemed much better recently, her condition today still worried him.

The Witch Clan’s methods, though mysterious, were often highly effective. Perhaps they could truly help A Chan recover, so he reluctantly agreed.

This was the first time A Chan had heard someone call Bai Xiuming "in the way"—the dislike was clear.

Since Bai Xiuming wasn’t here, A Chan finally voiced the question on her mind: "High Priest... did you already know me?"

She still remembered yesterday when the High Priest saw her and said, "A Chan is a good name," rather than praising the name Ji Chan—even though she had introduced herself as Ji Chan.

And today at the altar, the High Priest had smoothed things over for her in front of Bai Xiuming, smoothing over her emotional outburst.

A Chan didn’t think she was mistaken—the High Priest treated her with more gentleness than others.

The High Priest smiled. "Yes, I’ve known about you and A Mian for a long time."

A Chan’s eyes welled up instantly. "Did... did my father tell you?"

The woman before her knew where her father was buried—she must have known him and her mother, right?

The High Priest seemed lost in memory, her voice soft. "Your father often told us he had two sweet, lovely daughters. The elder one looked more like him—her name was A Chan. He also said that when his daughters grew up, they would surely be the most beautiful little foxes in the world."

A Chan trembled slightly, her voice trembled with emotion. "But... I’m not a fox anymore. How could you still find me?"

She thought of Hui Xue’s letter, which had reached her just days after the chains broke. She had seen bone-paper in the High Priest’s possession—if Hui Xue had written to her, she wouldn’t have used such special material.

So, Hui Xue’s letter might have been written under the High Priest’s urging, or perhaps some special method had been used to deliver it to her in time.

"It wasn’t me who found you—it was your father." The High Priest gently patted A Chan’s back. "Did it never occur to you that the altar has stood there for a hundred years? Why would your father’s presence suddenly leak out now?"

A Chan froze. That day in the spiritual realm, the six chains binding her soul had shattered completely.

She’d thought nothing had changed—but she was wrong.

"Your father knew you would come looking. He left something for you, waiting for you to claim it."

"What is it?"

The High Priest shook her head. "I don’t know. But it’s still beneath that altar—only you can retrieve it."

A Chan asked urgently, "When can we go get it?"

She wanted to know—what had her father left for her?

"Right now."

A Chan immediately got out of bed and was about to rush out when the High Priest caught her wrist and led her upstairs instead.

The third floor was just as spacious, its floor inscribed with intricate Witch Clan patterns forming a complex array. The walls were embedded with stones of varying sizes and colors. A Chan guessed and asked, "Is this a Witch Clan array?"

The High Priest nodded. "A teleportation array. We’ll go quickly and return before that boy notices."

"Alright." For the first time in a while, A Chan smiled slightly.

The High Priest grasped A Chan’s hand, and the two stood in the center of the array. As the High Priest chanted, the stones began to glow softly—and their figures vanished.

In an instant, they arrived at the woods where the altar stood.

They headed straight for the altar. Once there, the High Priest said, "Stand at the altar’s center and call out to your father."

A Chan had expected a complicated process—she hadn’t imagined it would be this simple.

"Is that all?" she asked again, just to be sure.

"That’s enough. Trust me—even in a different body, your father would still recognize you."

A Chan stepped into the center of the altar and called softly, "Father."

Then again, "Father..."

With each call, the sorrow she’d buried deep inside seemed to spill out.

A soft hum filled the air as a pillar of light suddenly rose from the altar. The light slowly dimmed, leaving a golden orb hovering before A Chan.

This was... a core.

Her father had left his core—for her.