Chapter 487: The Qin Family

A group of people flushed red with anger, their eyes blazing, breathing heavily, caught in a dilemma. They had never expected such a situation.

“Esteemed ones, seeing the Ancestor’s decree yet refusing to kneel—is this not outright defiance? Moreover, this decree bears the Ancestor’s seal. Do you dare oppose it? Do you wish to rebel?” Shi Hao spoke lazily, as if devoid of strength, yet his words cut into their ears like knives, humiliating and painful. There could be no worse scenario.

*Thud!*

Someone dropped to their knees, face twisted in discomfort, and declared, “Long live the Ancestor, his divine body eternal.” Once one began, the others followed suit, the sound of knees hitting the ground echoing continuously. Their faces burned with shame—this was truly mortifying. They had intended to intimidate Shi Hao, only to bring disgrace upon themselves.

In the end, even those who had stubbornly resisted knelt, including Qin Li, the elder brother of Qin Chao, and Qin Shoucheng, who had lost an arm and a leg. Their faces were ashen, filled with unwilling resentment.

“Rise, the ground is cold,” Shi Hao said lightly.

His words sent blood rushing to their heads, fueling their fury and humiliation. What was this? A grand procession had arrived, only to kneel in submission instead of asserting dominance.

As the young men and women stood, the atmosphere at the mountain gate grew tense, thick with killing intent. Their lungs burned with rage. Kneeling before the decree was no different from kneeling before Shi Hao himself. The most humiliating part? The decree he held was crumpled—clearly retrieved from his robes in a wrinkled mess, as if commanding them with mere scrap paper.

“You’ve defiled the decree! This crime is unforgivable!” Qin Li roared.

“What nonsense are you spouting?” Shi Hao glanced at him, then shook the decree. The paper instantly glowed, radiating golden light, pristine and sacred, its wrinkles vanishing. This treasure paper, worth fortunes for even a small piece, was made of rare materials—impossible to truly damage. A simple smoothing restored it.

“Take him to the Divine King Hall,” an elder at the gate interjected, unable to bear the spectacle. Prolonging this would only invite further trouble. Many had already realized that Shi Hao played by no rules—provoke him, and he would dare anything. If word spread outside, it would become a laughingstock.

Accompanied by Qin Ming, Shi Hao strolled leisurely, unhurried, admiring the scenery of this blessed land where violet mists and radiant clouds swirled—utterly at ease.

“I’m going to explode with rage!” Qin Li bellowed.

Fists clenched, the group seethed. They had come to provoke, only to be humiliated. Nothing could be more infuriating. Yet, they could only watch Shi Hao’s retreating back, powerless to act.

“Ah, is this a purple spiritual spring? Could it be the legendary Violet Mansion Elixir?” Shi Hao marveled, spotting a pool of violet water deep within Mount Neverdie, exuding a fragrant aroma.

“Such a treasure is rare even in the Upper Realm. This is merely imbued with a trace of its essence,” Qin Ming snapped irritably.

“Mind if I wash my face here?” Shi Hao asked, his shamelessness unparalleled. Having just provoked a crowd, he now casually indulged himself.

“Yes, I mind!” Qin Ming said coldly.

“One must be magnanimous,” Shi Hao replied, patting his shoulder with an air of generosity and calm.

Qin Ming, who had endured the entire journey, had planned to summon others to teach Shi Hao a lesson upon returning. Yet, he remained helpless, his anger boiling over. At these words, his fury flared, and he turned away with a flick of his sleeve.

This was their destination—a grand hall built beside the violet spring, majestic and imposing, shrouded in mist, exuding an intimidating aura like a Divine King standing tall. Nearby, a stone tablet bore the inscription: *Divine King Hall*. This was no ordinary place; its name carried weight.

In the past, Mount Neverdie had produced many mighty figures, some still alive in the Upper Realm. Based on their achievements and cultivation, halls had been erected in their honor, receiving worship and offerings.

“Hmm, impressive,” Shi Hao remarked. Within the mountain, the Divine King Hall was not alone—there were also Celestial God Halls and other grand structures, a testament to the once-flourishing strength of this lineage.

Not far away stood a grove of plum trees, alongside a few refined cottages, serene and transcendent, accompanied by a clear spring—perfect for nurturing body and spirit.

The Divine King Hall was vast. Shi Hao entered, waiting in a side chamber. Though he longed to see his parents immediately, he had to abide by the Qin Clan’s arrangements.

From the moment he stepped into Mount Neverdie, he knew he was treading dangerous ground—this was no ordinary place, but a den of dragons and tigers, where a single misstep could spell doom. Yet, for his parents, he had no choice but to come.

Of course, Shi Hao was no fool. He had prepared extensively for any possible danger.

After leaving him there, Qin Ming departed, asking him to wait. But as time passed—half a day—no one came. Clearly, the Qin Clan was displeased, deliberately ignoring him.

Though desperate to see his parents and inquire about his grandfather, Shi Hao could only wait patiently in their domain.

“Isn’t this the Human Emperor? Sitting alone?” Qin Li appeared, accompanied by several others, all smirking, here to mock him.

“Is this how Mount Neverdie treats its guests?” Shi Hao asked.

“The great calamity has just passed. The Ancestors are far too busy to summon you immediately. Wait slowly,” Qin Li laughed brazenly.

The others sneered, their hostility undisguised. Though Shi Hao was strong, would he dare act recklessly in the Qin Clan? They almost hoped he would, giving them an excuse to summon their experts and crush him.

Ignoring them, Shi Hao sat cross-legged, meditating.

“The prodigious Shi Hao, known for his lightning strikes and sweeping victories, now forced to endure in silence? What a marvel,” someone taunted.

If Shi Hao dared act, they would activate killing formations and summon Venerable Ones to suppress him, stripping him of all glory and pride.

Yet, Shi Hao remained unresponsive, not even glancing their way.

Soon, another group arrived, summoned to spectate, including the one-armed, one-legged Qin Shoucheng. Even Qin Ming lurked in the distance, observing.

They said little, merely laughing as if watching a play—a silent provocation.

“You truly have patience,” Qin Li jeered.

At this, Shi Hao opened his eyes. “Have all your people arrived?”

He stood, gazing at the dozens before him, and said calmly, “Then kneel once more.”

With that, he pulled another crumpled paper from his robes, smoothing it to reveal golden light.

“I @#$%…” Qin Li nearly cursed aloud.

Qin Shoucheng and the others turned ashen. *Again?* But upon reflection, they had brought this upon themselves.

To kneel again would be unbearable. Some gritted their teeth and knelt, while others pretended not to see, slinking away with bowed heads.

“Take care. Feel free to kneel whenever you wish,” Shi Hao called after them.

This was utter humiliation, yet none could retaliate. Fuming, they cursed inwardly. Were it not for the clan’s orders forbidding action, they would have attacked long ago.

Another hour passed with no one attending to him. Shi Hao wandered leisurely.

When Qin Ming returned, his eyes bulged with rage—Shi Hao was soaking his feet in the violet spring, utterly relaxed.

Qin Ming’s face flushed crimson. Pointing furiously, he stammered, “You—you—you!”

This spiritual spring produced scant water, reserved for refining medicines for young disciples. Yet Shi Hao used it to wash his feet—how could the younger generation, like Qin Li, bear such disrespect?

“My feet ached from idleness. This soothes them,” Shi Hao said casually, slipping on his shoes and socks.

Qin Ming, speechless, finally stormed off. “A Patriarch wishes to see you!”

He had delayed reporting, hoping to teach Shi Hao a lesson, but further stalling was futile.

The so-called Patriarch was a Venerable One, not an ancestral deity. White-haired and amiable, he said, “The youngsters lack manners. Pay them no mind.”

Shi Hao nodded silently.

“Truthfully, you are family here. Do not stand on ceremony,” the Venerable One smiled, engaging in small talk.

Shi Hao, however, was distracted, repeatedly steering the conversation toward his parents. Finally, the elder relented and led the way.

“The clan holds your parents in high regard, permitting them to cultivate in the Land of Neverdie—a privilege typically reserved for divine ancestors,” the elder said.

“Are they well?” Shi Hao asked, voice steady though his heart raced. At last, he would see them.

“They thrive. That place is enveloped in complete laws, akin to an immortal crucible, where cultivation yields twice the results,” the elder replied warmly.

Along the way, many pointed and whispered, astonished by Shi Hao’s audacity. After all, he had slain two of Mount Neverdie’s Venerable Ones—yet here he was, unharmed.

Though Mount Neverdie’s population was modest compared to sects like the Heaven Mending Sect or Western Sect, its halls and towers were numerous, housing no small number of cultivators.

The path wound through towering mountains wreathed in immortal mist, lush with medicinal herbs—a sacred land for cultivation. These peaks encircled a central mountain shaped like a human palm: the famed Five Elements Peak.

The valley nestled between these peaks was visible from afar, shrouded in clouds, entwined with spiritual vines, and dotted with ancient trees—a divine paradise.

“I do not know if the valley is open. It unlocks only sporadically, as it is where divine ancestors seclude themselves. But by the reckoning, it should open within two days,” the elder said.

“Father! Mother! I’ve come to see you!” Shi Hao shouted, his voice trembling with emotion.