Chapter 597 - 79: The End is Near, Qingxing’s Thoughts

"Yulong pays his respects to the Clan Leader."

After the great clan council ended, Song Yulong immediately sought out Song Changsheng and performed a grand ceremonial bow.

Song Changsheng quickly helped him up, saying with a displeased expression, "Brother, what are you doing?"

"First, to congratulate you, Clan Leader, on ascending to the Purple Mansion realm. Second, to express the gratitude of my clansmen. Thank you for giving us a place to call home," Song Yulong said sincerely with a cupped-fist salute.

"I should be the one thanking you on behalf of the clan. If you hadn’t arrived in time, the outcome of that battle would have been uncertain."

If Song Yulong hadn’t risked everything to rush over and reinforce them that day, breaking the stalemate and ending the battle early, the Song Clan would have shed far more blood.

This point alone made it worth Song Xianyun going against everyone’s objections to take them in.

"You’re too kind, Clan Leader. We only did what we should have. For the great battle in ten days, please do not forget us. Our entire branch is at your command."

Faced with Song Changsheng’s praise, Song Yulong took no credit and instead loudly requested to join the battle.

Song Changsheng first acknowledged Song Yulong’s heartfelt willingness to fight for the clan, but then shook his head, rejecting his request to participate.

Seeing the anxious look on Song Yulong’s face, Song Changsheng placed a hand on his shoulder and sighed. "I heard from Fifth Uncle about what you all went through at the Ancestral Vein. It was the clan’s failure, our inability to help you, that allowed those people to bully you so brazenly.

You went through so much to escape with your people. Let them have a few days of peace. Your foundations weren’t strong to begin with—don’t exhaust what little you have left. You’ve already done more than enough for the clan.

Before you return to Zhangye, go see my mother. I’ve asked her to prepare a batch of cultivation resources for you. You can be frugal with anything else, but not with cultivation. Focus on nurturing the younger generation in your family. There will be plenty of opportunities for you to contribute to the clan in the future. There’s no need to rush."

With that, Song Changsheng patted Song Yulong’s shoulder and turned to walk toward Song Xianyun’s small courtyard.

Although the clan had assigned him a courtyard, Song Xianyun had always lived and worked in the Minor Affairs Hall. Song Changsheng had only visited a few times as a child and almost never after growing up, so his memories had become hazy.

As Song Changsheng walked along the gravel path overgrown with flowers and weeds, the memories in his mind gradually sharpened.

When he arrived outside the small courtyard from his memories, he found quite a few people gathered at the gate to visit Song Xianyun. Strangely, however, everyone was standing silently outside.

Only when they saw Song Changsheng did they murmur, "Clan Leader."

Song Changsheng nodded to each of them in turn, then walked up to the middle-aged man standing guard at the gate and asked softly, "Why isn’t anyone going in?"

Startled to see Song Changsheng himself, Song Qingyang quickly cupped his fist and said, "Clan Leader, it’s not that this nephew is keeping everyone out. Fifth Uncle personally instructed that Great-grandfather’s current condition is too fragile for many visitors. Everyone is waiting out here voluntarily."

Song Changsheng nodded slightly. "I’m not blaming you. May I go in and see him?"

"Of course. Great-grandfather has been asking for you. This way, Clan Leader." Song Qingyang quickly led the way for Song Changsheng.

The moment the door opened, the pungent smell of medicine assaulted him. On a soft couch shrouded by a light gauze canopy, a skeletal Song Xianyun lay with a breath as faint as a silk thread, his eyes tightly closed, his lips opening and closing unconsciously.

Song Qingyang’s wife, Zhang Qianqian, was keeping watch by the bed. She was several months pregnant, and her belly was already showing.

Seeing Song Changsheng arrive, she quickly rose to greet him.

But Song Changsheng’s attention was entirely on Song Xianyun. He didn’t even notice Zhang Qianqian’s movement as he hurried to the bedside.

Looking at Song Xianyun’s withered face and emaciated frame, Song Changsheng’s heart jolted, and for a moment, he felt a lump form in his throat.

Seeing this, Song Qingyang secretly wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, then helped Zhang Qianqian quietly exit the room, leaving the space for the old man and his grandson.

He knew the old man had been waiting for Song Changsheng to appear.

Song Changsheng sat down by the bed and quietly studied the old man’s face, a sour feeling stinging his nose.

Song Xianyun had always been a very kind man, and he was especially good to Song Changsheng, always treating him like his own grandson.

He still remembered when he was first found to have a Spirit Root. A smiling Song Xianyun had stuffed a Storage Bag into his arms, and inside were one hundred Low-Grade Spirit Stones.

It might not sound like much, but at the time, the clan had just gone through a major battle. Its finances were in dire straits, and expenses far outstripped income. They couldn’t even pay the clansmen’s stipends. For Song Xianyun, one hundred Spirit Stones was no small sum.

Moreover, on every one of his birthdays, Song Xianyun would meticulously prepare a gift for him. Though they were just little trinkets, they were something Song Changsheng could only have dreamed of in his past life.

For over thirty years, Song Changsheng had watched this kind old man work until his hair turned white and his spirit ran dry for the sake of the clan.

Now, the clan was thriving, having reclaimed its former glory, yet the old man who had dedicated his entire life to it was lying on this small sickbed.

He reached out, gently patted the old man’s shoulder, and whispered, "Twenty-first Grandpa, I’m back."

"Is... that... Changsheng... Are you back...?"

Song Xianyun’s eyes struggled to open a crack, and his withered hand fumbled about aimlessly.

"Yes, Twenty-first Grandpa, I’m back." Song Changsheng quickly grasped his hand, his fingers inconspicuously feeling for a pulse. The moment he made contact, his heart dropped.