Chapter 489: You Are Leaving!

"You are leaving! To the Higher Realm! A realm of gods and monsters! And you... you cannot even stand to defend yourself! Let me come with you! I will mobilise the Southern Army! We will march on the gates of Heaven!"

"The Heavens have very strict border control, Father. I don’t think the infantry will clear customs," Ji’an teased gently, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. "I will be fine. I am not defenseless."

Lin Xuan, the youngest brother, pushed past the General and fell to his knees directly in front of her wheelchair. He reached out, his trembling hands lightly hovering over her paralysed legs hidden beneath the white robes.

"Sister," Xuan sobbed, big, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. "It’s my fault. If I had trained harder, if I was stronger, I could have gone with you! I could have fought the bad people! They wouldn’t have hurt your legs!"

Ji’an’s expression softened into maternal warmth. She reached down, flicking Xuan lightly on the forehead.

"If you went to fight bad people, Xuan’er, they would have made you do paperwork for eternity," Ji’an smiled. "My legs are fine. They are just on strike. Don’t waste your tears on my kneecaps. Save them for your sword forms."

But the heaviest silence came from the man standing behind them.

Lin Feng did not kneel. He stood rigidly, his fists clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles creaked. His eyes were dark, bloodshot, and burning with a soul-crushing inadequacy.

He looked at his little sister, then at the wheelchair.

"I failed you," Lin Feng whispered, his voice hoarse, sounding as though he had swallowed glass.

Ji’an looked up at him.

"I am the eldest brother," Lin Feng continued, a single tear escaping his eye, tracing a path through the dust on his cheek. "I am supposed to be your shield. Mother told me to protect you. And when they came down... when they crippled you... I was in the capital. I was playing politics while they broke you. I should have been there. I should have died in your place."

Ji’an’s heart ached.

Even without the memories of the seventeen timelines, the fundamental, hard-coded protective instinct of Lin Feng remained absolutely identical. He was biologically programmed to blame himself for her pain.

Ji’an unlocked the kinetic brakes on her wheelchair with a subtle pulse of Qi. She rolled forward, parting the General and Xuan, until she was directly in front of her older brother.

She reached up, grabbing him firmly by the lapels of his clothes, forcing him to lean down until they were eye-level.

"Listen to me, Elder Brother," Ji’an said, her voice dropping the serene facade, vibrating with a fierce, absolute, unyielding truth.

She looked deep into his eyes.

She saw the phantom echoes of the brother who had torn his soul apart for her in the void, the golden spark that had pretended to be a System just to hold her hand.

"You did not fail me," Ji’an stated, her dark eyes blazing with an intensity that pinned him to the spot. "You have never failed me. You have protected me in ways you cannot even begin to comprehend."

Lin Feng blinked, confused by the magnitude of her statement, but captivated by the certainty in her voice.

"You gave me everything I needed to survive," Ji’an whispered, her thumb brushing against the corner of his eye. "You gave me the foundation. But I am not a child anymore, big brother. I am the Apex. You don’t have to carry my shield. It’s time I took things into my own hands. I am going up there to settle a tab, and I need you to stay here and keep the restaurant running. Can you do that for me?"

Lin Feng stared at her.

The crushing guilt didn’t entirely vanish, because he was an older brother; it was practically a chronic illness, but the unwavering absolution in her eyes managed to loosen the knot around his throat.

He swallowed hard, nodding slowly, placing his large hand over hers.

"I will hold the line, Xiao-An," Lin Feng vowed, his voice thickening with emotion. "I will wait for you."

Ji’an offered a brilliant, beautiful smile. "Good. And make sure Master Jiu Zui actually takes a bath at least once a month while I’m gone. I don’t want to come back to a biohazard."

"I HEARD THAT, BRAT!" Jiu Zui barked from behind them, though he was frantically wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

"You were meant to!" Ji’an called back cheerfully.

The family tearfully stepped back, giving her space as the final preparations commenced.

"Alright, clear the runway, let’s wrap this up before the emotional exposition ruins my itinerary."

The voice was smooth, resonant, and dripping with extreme, unapologetic corporate efficiency.

Stepping out from the shadows of the pavilion, draped in his signature, chaotic midnight-purple silk robes, was Yan Zhaoge.

The Overtime Boss looked to be in his element.

He carried a sleek, glowing jade clipboard, tapping a starmetal stylus against it as he approached the peach tree.

"Boss," Ji’an greeted smoothly, leaning back in her wheelchair. "Is the VIP transit gate ready? I’m not flying coach to the Highest Realm."

"Please," Yan Zhaoge scoffed, stopping beside her, waving his hand dismissively. "I am a Sovereign of both realms. I do not do ’coach’. I have secured a direct, luxury ascension beam. It bypasses the preliminary celestial audits. You will not have to wait in line behind a bunch of newly ascended, weeping orthodox monks."

He tapped the stylus against the clipboard, his amber eyes glittering with dark amusement.

"I have already forwarded your credentials to the High Council’s primary database," Zhaoge informed her, looking exceedingly smug. "You are officially registered as a ’Culinary Arch-Deacon on a Cultural Exchange Mission.’ The paperwork is flawless. It will take them at least three weeks to realise the anomaly has infiltrated their cafeteria."

"Three weeks is all I need to find the office," Ji’an smirked, cracking her knuckles.

"I will be following shortly behind you," Yan Zhaoge added, his tone softening slightly, shedding the corporate persona for a fraction of a second. "I have some... administrative tasks to complete here before I ascend. But I have arranged a safe house for you in the Outer Celestial Ring. The coordinates are embedded in your spatial ring."

He looked down at her paralysed legs, then back up to her serene, deadly face.

"You are sure about this, Ji’an?" Yan Zhaoge asked quietly. "The Highest Realm is not the Azure Empire. The gravity is literal and metaphorical. It will crush you if you falter."

"I don’t falter, Boss," Ji’an replied, her dark eyes locking onto his. "I just pivot to a new recipe."

Yan Zhaoge laughed, a rich, genuine sound, shaking his head. "I pity the Heavens. Truly, they have no idea what is about to hit them."

He stepped back, raising his hand, preparing to signal the sky.

"Ah! Wait! I have the provisions!"

A cheerful, bright, unburdened voice broke through the tension.

Bounding across the courtyard, ignoring the weeping disciples and the solemn family, was Shen Zechuan.

The abyssal prodigy, the boy born from the merit of a brother’s sacrifice, was wearing simple, neat black robes. He carried two overstuffed burlap sacks that looked incredibly heavy.

Zechuan didn’t stop to bow. He jogged right up to the back of Ji’an’s wheelchair.

"Ji’an!" Zechuan beamed, his void-like eyes crinkling with absolute, innocent joy. "I packed the spicy crystal-mantis jerky! And I packed the dried lotus roots! I also packed four incredibly smooth rocks I found by the river! They skip very well; I think they will be excellent for throwing at the guards!"

Ji’an’s expression melted into pure affection.

Because of her paralysed legs, she could not traverse the Highest Realm alone. She needed mobility.

And there was no one in the universe she trusted more to watch her back than the void-puppy.

Shen Zechuan was an anomaly born of the abyss.

He was not bound by the karmic ledgers. He did not need to ascend; he could walk through the dimensional barriers as if they were beaded curtains. The Heavens couldn’t audit him because, mathematically, he didn’t exist.

He was the perfect, untraceable companion.

"Excellent work, Zechuan," Ji’an praised, reaching back to pat his hand where it rested on the handles of her wheelchair.