Chapter 178 Her Rebirth Was Never Meant to Be…

Chapter 178 Her Rebirth Was Never an Accident

A Chan’s fingers rested on his wrist, her gaze meeting his. "Bai Xiuming, aren't you upset?"

"Why would I be upset?" he countered.

"Because... I envy Hui Xue for becoming a demon?"

Bai Xiuming chuckled. "I’m not so overbearing as to restrict even your thoughts."

A Chan blinked. For a fleeting moment, she almost asked him, *If I truly became a demon, what would you do?*

But she swallowed the question, instead smiling at the man beside her, and said cheerfully, "Let’s go. I want to sleep early tonight. Tomorrow, I’ve promised Hui Xue we’ll go out and play."

"The High Priest said you spent all day helping her prepare offerings. Aren't you going to help tomorrow?" Bai Xiuming asked casually.

Before the ancestors of the Wu Clan, there was no distinction of rank or status; even the High Priest had to work. He’d been bossed around all day, and A Chan, he imagined, hadn’t escaped either.

"No," A Chan grumbled. "She told me today to learn the ritual dance from Lie Xing and perform with them during the ceremony. I suspect she just wants to see me make a fool of myself."

Bai Xiuming raised an eyebrow, his gaze sweeping over A Chan before he suddenly laughed. "I’m rather looking forward to it."

That night, A Chan retired early. Shortly after bathing at dusk, she fell asleep.

Despite the day’s many events, she’d expected to be restless, but perhaps thanks to the herbal tonic given by the High Priest, she slept soundly, not even waking to the nocturnal cries of the nine-headed bird.

The next morning, as was customary, Lie Xian called her over for breakfast. At the table, when A Chan mentioned her plans to go out with Shen Huixue, Lie Jiang enthusiastically urged Bai Xiuming to continue contributing to the Wu Clan’s ancestral altar.

Bai Xiuming’s chopsticks paused mid-air. "As an outsider, wouldn’t it be improper for me to be overly involved in building the altar?"

Lie Jiang waved a hand dismissively. "Of course not! Our ancestors treat all races equally. Once you’re here, you’re family."

A Chan bit back a smile; this was probably the first time Bai Xiuming had been so passively befriended.

But Lie Jiang wasn’t finished. "If you have time, you could even hunt outside and bring offerings to the High Priest. When the ancestors receive your tribute, they’ll surely bless you."

As if fearing Bai Xiuming’s disbelief, he added earnestly, "Truly."

Bai Xiuming remained silent, feeling as though Lie Jiang was trying to get something for nothing.

Shortly after they finished eating, Shen Huixue arrived.

A Chan hurried to greet her, then linked arms with her and waved at Bai Xiuming. "I’m off to play! You work hard!"

Bai Xiuming didn’t even bother to lift an eyelid, choosing to ignore her.

Once outside the village, Shen Huixue transformed back into her true form. Since arriving, her demonic power had gradually stabilized; her true form was now more than twice the size A Chan had seen the day before.

A Chan rode on her back, the white figure darting forward like lightning.

Their destination turned out to be the woods behind the village. The terrain was winding, and various trees grew profusely, yet Huixue nimbly avoided all branches, carrying A Chan deeper into the forest.

After about half an hour of traversing the woods, a towering ancient tree appeared in A Chan’s sight. Its colossal branches and leaves were so dense they blotted out the sky, and no other trees grew in its vicinity.

Two wooden huts stood on either side of the tree.

Dried herbs hung on racks outside the huts, and various household items were piled in the corners.

As they neared the ancient tree, A Chan faintly heard snoring from its branches. This was clearly an old tree demon, fond of sleep and utterly indifferent to their arrival.

After setting her down, Shen Huixue transformed back into human form and whispered, "I heard this tree was planted when the Wu Clan migrated here. It’s thousands of years old."

"Five thousand three hundred, to be precise."

A voice sounded from behind them. A Chan turned to see a thin, black-robed old woman. One of her eyes was black, the other white, without a pupil.

Noticing A Chan looking at her, she introduced herself: "I am Wu Yang. You may call me Granny Yang."

"Hello, Granny Yang. I’m A Chan."

"I know." Wu Yang walked past them, opened the door to the house on the left side of the ancient tree, then turned and said, "Come in and sit."

A Chan and Shen Huixue followed Wu Yang into the house.

The interior was similar to the High Priest’s abode, but with many green plants, adding a touch of vitality.

After the three sat down, Granny Yang knocked on the wooden wall. Three distinct knocks sounded, and soon after, a vine coiled its way in, carrying three bowls of honey water. It placed the honey water in front of A Chan and the others, and before leaving, it playfully tugged on Shen Huixue’s sleeve.

"Granny Yang," Shen Huixue began, "I brought A Chan here because we wanted to ask you about something."

Granny Yang took a sip of the honey water brought by the vine and slowly said, "No hurry."

She asked the two, "Have you had breakfast?"

"Yes," A Chan replied.

Wu Yang nodded and told Shen Huixue, "Then stay for lunch here."

Shen Huixue was somewhat taken aback; she had visited Granny Yang’s place several times but had never been invited to stay for a meal.

She had heard from villagers that Granny Yang was aloof and didn’t interact much with people.

Had it not been to help A Chan gather information, she wouldn’t have specifically sought her out. Although Granny Yang had become much gentler due to her persistence, she was still not particularly close.

"Alright, then we’ll impose," Shen Huixue hesitated before nodding.

A smile crinkled the corners of Granny Yang’s eyes, and she added, "A flock of black phoenixes recently moved deeper into the woods. I hear their meat is delicious, perfect for stew."

Both Shen Huixue and A Chan were instantly tempted.

However, Shen Huixue quickly understood Granny Yang’s intention: she likely wanted to speak with A Chan privately and found her presence inconvenient.

She turned to A Chan, who blinked back. Shen Huixue then stood up. "Alright, then I’ll go meet those black phoenixes. I’ll be back later."

"Be careful on your way," A Chan cautioned.

"Don’t worry."

After Shen Huixue left, only Granny Yang and A Chan remained, and the room suddenly grew quiet.

After a long moment of contemplation, A Chan finally spoke, "Granny Yang, do you know my mother?"

She didn’t introduce herself, thinking that since the High Priest knew her, Granny Yang should too.

Granny Yang didn’t immediately answer A Chan’s question. She seemed to recall something, and her gaze became distant.

After a long pause, she slowly began, "I was your mother’s disciple. I followed her and learned from her since childhood. I saw you and your sister when you were born."

A Chan’s voice caught. *To have followed Mother since childhood... how enviable.*

"Then... do you know how she and my father died?" A Chan voiced the biggest question in her heart.

Granny Yang fell silent. Just as A Chan thought she wouldn’t speak, she finally said, "Your mother never told me about this, but I guessed."

"What did you guess?" Granny Yang’s attitude made A Chan instinctively tense. A wave of inexplicable panic rose in her heart—was her parents’ death somehow related to her?

Granny Yang didn’t look at A Chan. She turned her gaze away, her voice heavy with emotion: "Our Wu tribe once suffered a great massacre. Have you heard of it?"

A Chan nodded. "I know. It was done by the Demon Emperor."

She had no impression of the Demon Emperor, as he had long been buried in the long history of the demon race by the time she was born. However, many elders on Qingyu Mountain, and even her grandmother, occasionally spoke of the Demon Emperor with reverence and longing, as if they greatly missed the time before the demon kingdom fragmented.

"Your father and mother met by accident. It’s said he fell in love with your mother at first sight and shamelessly followed her back to our tribe," Wu Yang recalled the past, slowly recounting it to A Chan. "At that time, we didn’t know he was the Demon Emperor’s most trusted subordinate."

A Chan frowned. She knew little about her father’s past and had never known of his connection to the Demon Emperor, because her grandmother would never speak of these things, and no one on Qingyu Mountain would tell her.

"We had little contact with the demon race, and at first, the tribe was very hostile towards him. He lived in our tribe for a long time, living with everyone, hunting together, driving away fierce beasts, and sacrificing to ancestors. Gradually, the tribesmen accepted him. Later, your mother was moved by him, and they became a couple. Then one day, he received a letter saying he needed to return home." Wu Yang’s voice gradually deepened. "Not long after he left, several powerful demon armies suddenly appeared. They massacred the Wu tribe, captured the High Priests of various tribes, and demanded that the High Priests hand over their tribal inheritances. Some High Priests refused, and their people were killed in front of them. Those who yielded also met tragic ends. Our tribe, thanks to your mother’s efforts, suffered the least damage, but we all knew there was no hope left. It was then that your father returned, the demon armies retreated, and we survived."

A Chan realized that this story was not destined to have a perfect ending.

Speaking of those past events, Granny Yang’s eyes were filled with sorrow: "It was too tragic then; corpses were everywhere, both Wu and demon. Only we survived."

"Was the appearance of the demon race related to my father?" A Chan didn’t believe her father would do such a thing, but so many coincidences appearing together made it impossible to refute.

She finally realized why her mother had detested her and A Mian so much, refusing to even look at them. Her mother hated the demon race, and she hated her father.

Wu Yang shook her head. "He explained to your mother that he had only returned to Qingyu Mountain and had not told the Demon Emperor about the Wu tribe, but no one believed him. Looking back, the Wu and demon races have been enemies since ancient times. The Demon Emperor wanted to advance further and coveted the Wu tribe’s heritage. Whether he knew about your father’s connection to the Wu tribe or not, he would have acted."

"And then?" A Chan pressed.

"Then, with a sea of blood and deep hatred between them, your mother and father completely broke off their relationship." From then on, the tribe never again saw the High Priest and Lord Xi Jing together.

Their end came as suddenly as nightfall in the wilderness.

"Soon after, your father left. Under your mother’s leadership, we struggled to survive here. Our lives slowly improved, and then we heard that the demon race had split, and your father had betrayed the Demon Emperor."

Granny Yang recounted the bloody history of the demon race very simply: "Then one day, we heard that the Demon Emperor was dead. Your father and his friends had joined forces to kill the Demon Emperor."

"With the great revenge avenged, Mother must have been happy?"

But Granny Yang’s aged face held a trace of imperceptible bitterness. "When the Demon Emperor died, your mother discovered she was pregnant."

A Chan’s voice was very small: "Mother didn’t want to give birth to us."

She didn’t like them.

Granny Yang looked at A Chan, who was hanging her head, and sighed: "But she still gave birth to you."

If she hadn’t given birth to these two children, would everything have been different? Wu Yang had sat here countless times, asking herself this question, wanting to know the answer.

But no one would give her an answer.

Now, this child named A Chan sat before her, and she suddenly knew the answer.

There was never an "if"; her teacher would have given birth to these two children no matter what.

A Chan held her breath, a tremor in her voice: "Granny Yang, are we... related to our parents’ deaths?"

If there was no connection, Granny Yang wouldn’t have started from the beginning, telling the story all the way up to her and A Mian’s birth.

"Yes," Wu Yang gave A Chan a definite answer. She said, "Before his death, the Demon Emperor cursed your father."

A Chan opened her mouth, struggling to speak: "What did he curse him with?"

"He cursed him to have his bloodline severed, and his descendants... would all meet a terrible end."

Wu Yang never had the chance to witness the Demon Emperor’s death with her own eyes, nor did she know what exactly happened then, or why the Demon Emperor would leave such a curse.

But that was the Demon Emperor, the curse left by the most powerful demon in the history of the demon race. It took effect, and no one could break it.

"So that’s how it was," A Chan murmured, a sudden realization dawning on her.

No wonder she couldn’t find A Mian anywhere; perhaps A Mian had already met her fate by then, and later, she herself had died. Then, she had come back to life in Ji Chan’s body.

A Chan thought of the altar she had seen yesterday. The High Priest had said that each time the altar was awakened, it would reveal scenes of the underworld, and she had personally witnessed her father being tortured in hell.

What kind of sin would require such punishment in the underworld?

A Chan thought, if she was destined to die, how could she have been so lucky as to get a chance to live again?

Her rebirth was never an accident.

What immense price must have been paid to allow her, who should have died, to be reborn and live again? A Chan could barely bring herself to imagine.

Wu Yang said, "Your mother was the smartest person I’ve ever known. Almost all the various formulas passed down in the tribe today were improved by her; their effects were better than before, and the methods of production, the materials used, and even every step were simpler and clearer. But later, she gave up on this research."

Wu Yang looked at A Chan. "She began studying the forbidden arts of the Wu tribe."

A Chan’s heart felt as if it were tightly gripped by a hand.

"They are called forbidden arts not just because they are intolerable to heaven and earth, but also because they have irreversible effects on the practitioner. Before she disappeared, her consciousness was already unclear. She forgot familiar tribesmen, and even didn’t remember who I was. Just two days after that, your father also disappeared. Later, we found that altar, and around it, there were traces of forbidden arts having been used."