Qin Ruqing focused with unprecedented seriousness as she read for a while.

The current storyline was about Fifth Lingyu’s childhood.

Twice, he had eaten the raw flesh of demon beasts, which enraged the former clan leader of the Fifth family—none other than Fifth Lingyu’s biological father.

“Consuming the raw flesh of demon beasts, and not just once! Is this something a normal person, let alone the son of a clan leader, would do?” Fifth Mao stared at Fifth Lingyu, raising his voice in a mixture of shock and anger, his face full of disbelief.

He pointed his whip at Fifth Lingyu.

“When you were in your mother’s womb, you stayed for thirteen months and ultimately killed her. She had Nascent Soul-level cultivation, yet she was dragged to her death by you, like a parasite! The clan calls you a monster, and I’ve defended you. And how do you repay me? Do you insist on proving you’re a monster to the world?”

Fifth Mao’s gaze was filled with disappointment and confusion as he looked at the eight- or nine-year-old boy.

The boy raised his head, his dark eyes unsettling, and replied calmly, “Don’t grown cultivators like you also refine demon blood? Why can’t I?”

“We cultivate it! What are you doing?” Fifth Sheng couldn’t hold back his rebuke. “You can’t control your innate bloodthirsty nature! You’re not cultivating; you’re bloodthirsty! If word spreads, people outside might think the son of a clan leader is practicing evil arts. You’re disgracing the Fifth family!”

The boy’s mouth twisted into a cold smile, filled with mockery. “My mother died, I disgraced the Fifth family, and even killing a demon beast is disgraceful? So the Fifth family’s reputation is tied to me, and it’s my job to tarnish it?”

Qin Ruqing: Pfft~

Interesting!

She had initially thought that young Fifth Lingyu was entirely different from how he grew up, but after hearing a bit, she realized his sharp tongue hadn’t changed at all.

Well done!

While Qin Ruqing was entertained, Fifth Mao was so angry he lost his composure.

His hand, holding the whip, trembled.

In his fury, he lashed at Fifth Lingyu again.

The previous blows had been controlled, but this one slipped, carrying more force.

The whip of a clan leader was not something a child could endure.

Fifth Lingyu was sent flying, and when he lifted his head, a visible whip mark as thick as a finger ran from his cheek to his neck, oozing fresh blood.

Fifth Mao’s expression showed a moment of panic, realizing he had struck too hard.

Seeing the blood on Fifth Lingyu’s face, his regret was evident, but it didn’t last long.

Fifth Lingyu’s gaze slowly rose to meet Fifth Mao’s.

His eyes became fierce, like a young, enraged beast, showing clear intent to kill.

A child, staring so sharply and viciously at his father.

He wanted to kill him.

Fifth Mao froze, suddenly chilled to the bone.

He couldn’t help but remember his wife’s emaciated face before she died, as though all the life had been sucked out of her.

Then she died.

The child, who had been in her womb for thirteen months, had crawled out.

Fifth Mao had always had mixed feelings about this child.

Outsiders called him a freak, a monster.

Fifth Mao often defended him, instinctively protecting the child his wife had given her life for.

Until he noticed how heavy this child’s bloodthirst was.

Until he found out the child had been secretly eating demon flesh—not once, not twice, but several times.

Now, witnessing this child showing killing intent toward him, his own father, Fifth Mao finally had confirmation.

This child was indeed a monster.

He closed his eyes tightly, and when he opened them again, they were filled with cold indifference.

He looked down at Fifth Lingyu from above and said, “As your father, I disciplined you with a few lashes, and you want to kill me for it. If you’re so unruly, I can’t control you. From now on, you’re on your own.”

The boy, still Fifth Lingyu, was stunned.

It was as if he had suddenly snapped out of some state, his eyes returning to clarity and softness.

He felt his father’s disappointment and was filled with fear.

Quietly, he called out, “Father.”

Momentum is something that ebbs and flows.

As the youngest son, Fifth Lingyu’s weaker position provided an outlet for Fifth Mao’s emotional release.

Fifth Mao asked him sternly, “Will you dare do it again?”

The boy, Fifth Lingyu, replied, “I won’t dare anymore.”

This simple exchange of “dare” and “not dare” seemed to lay the foundation for their early father-son relationship.

From then on, the roles were clearly defined—one was the superior, the other the subordinate.

Fifth Mao stared at Fifth Lingyu for a long time, and reluctantly believed his “I won’t dare.”

—But it wasn’t that he believed his son was normal.

—It was that he believed there was still hope for his son, that he still had the will to improve.

From then on, Fifth Mao became even stricter in overseeing Fifth Lingyu.

If Fifth Lingyu showed even the slightest sign of abnormality, Fifth Mao would beat him.

“In other words, even before Lingyu really did anything monstrous, his father was already reacting.” Qin Ruqing, watching several fragmented scenes from an illusion, couldn’t help but sneer.

“What’s the big deal about eating some raw demon beast flesh? I’ve eaten it too!”

Though she had been forced to eat it, “That sanctimonious clan leader is really making a fuss over nothing,” Qin Ruqing said with disdain.

She continued watching.

The scenes in the illusion were not continuous, more like a series of fragmented moments, as if the story was being told out of order, sometimes with flashbacks.

For example, now, Fifth Lingyu had suddenly grown up.

He had become more like the Fifth Lingyu Qin Ruqing was familiar with: broad shoulders, a tall stature, and strikingly handsome features that bordered on coldness.

Yet there was something unfamiliar about him as well.

At least, in Qin Ruqing’s memory, Fifth Lingyu had never shown a side of weakness or compromise.

In her words, he hadn’t yet fully evolved into the “complete psychopath.”

As an adult, Fifth Lingyu descended into the Four Prisons for the first time.

Passing through the first two prisons, he earned a Heaven-level rating, surpassing even his cousin Fifth Youlin’s score.

This almost proved he was a once-in-a-century genius in the Fifth family.

He didn’t seem particularly happy, but there was a trace of hope when he shared the news with Fifth Mao.

However, all he received in return was a dismissive, “Not bad.”

Qin Ruqing appeared outside the window, watching Fifth Lingyu from outside.

Half of his face was hidden in shadow, and Qin Ruqing noticed that the corner of his exposed mouth drooped slightly.

Other than that, he said nothing.

Qin Ruqing watched as Fifth Lingyu left, but she remained where she was.

Not long after, the father inside the house, usually reserved with his emotions, displayed a rare smile.

On his stern face, it seemed entirely out of place.

Fifth Mao, in a good mood, poured himself a drink and even invited his subordinate, Fifth Jia (the chief of the Greatfoot Department), to join him for a night of drinking and conversation.

Fifth Jia, puzzled, couldn’t understand why the clan leader was so happy.

It wasn’t until the wine jug was completely empty, with not a drop left, that Fifth Mao finally let slip a small hint:

“Lingyu has grown up!”

Fifth Jia suddenly understood—it was because of his son.

Lingyu had earned a Heaven-level rating, so of course Fifth Mao was pleased.

Standing by the window, Qin Ruqing keenly noticed one thing:

—The rest of the Fifth family had no idea that Fifth Lingyu was a “monster.”

Fifth Mao had kept this secret tightly guarded.

Two years later, Fifth Lingyu came of age.

He chose to descend into the Third Prison on his birthday, but this time, he only received the lowest Earth-level rating.

For the Fifth Immortal Clan, none of the direct disciples had ever received such a low score, which almost declared that this child was unfit for the Fifth family’s legacy, with almost no talent.

The terrifying shadow that had been lurking in Fifth Mao’s heart, unspeakable and inexpressible, resurfaced again.

“Because he’s a monster! Born with a heart filled with bloodlust, how could someone like that ever win the favor of a Dao lineage that requires a heart concerned for the world?”

“This father is truly delusional,” Qin Ruqing couldn’t help but comment. “Though, considering the death of his wife and the pressure of public opinion as the clan leader, it’s somewhat understandable. But still, it’s messed up.”

Eager to continue, Qin Ruqing tried to read on, but the illusion shifted again, rewinding time.

The scene now showed Fifth Lingyu standing before a tombstone.

He looked at the grave, expressionless, and said, “They all say you died because you gave birth to me. What a pity. Why did you even bother having me? I didn’t want to come into this world either. Isn’t the fact that it took thirteen months and I still didn’t want to be born enough proof?”

“You gave birth to me without permission, and you died because of it. How pathetic.”

“Your husband feels guilty about your death and despises me from the bottom of his heart.”

“I’ve endured him long enough.”

“But it doesn’t matter. You’re the one who gave birth to me, so I’ll try my best to be a normal person, even though I really can’t stand the Fifth family.”

“Tomorrow, I’ll descend into the Fourth Hell. Maybe that man will finally be satisfied.”

…

“Nothing will ever satisfy him!” Qin Ruqing stood beside Fifth Lingyu, as if he could hear her, and shouted at him.

“You were born with a dark and twisted mind, while your father’s was warped later in life. That’s even harder to cure. It’s like trying to wake someone who’s pretending to sleep; your father is trapped in his own thoughts. Any slight move you make, he’ll associate it with being a monster.”

“He keeps confirming and reconfirming it. He’s stuck in a mental quagmire, and ever since your mother died because of you, he’s never been able to get out of it.”

“But he still loves you, even though you can’t see it.”

…

The next time Fifth Mao violently beat Fifth Lingyu was when he found out Fifth Lingyu had killed a member of the Fifth family.

Fifth Mao personally covered it up, but behind closed doors, he beat his son severely.

“This time, how will you explain yourself?” Fifth Mao asked, deeply disappointed and even a little heartbroken.

He really couldn’t understand it.

He had carefully nurtured Lingyu like a delicate seedling, fearful that he would grow crooked and stray from the right path.

But despite his care, Fifth Lingyu’s actions only escalated.

As a child, he merely ate raw demon flesh; now, he had killed a family member with his own hands.

Fifth Lingyu knelt on the ground, saying nothing.

At this point, no words could resolve the rift between father and son.

Qin Ruqing squatted next to Fifth Lingyu, “Why aren’t you explaining yourself? Did you suddenly lose your voice? When you act the joker, you can talk a lot, can’t you?”

“Why don’t you tell your father that the person you killed was the son of his political enemy? That he tried to kill you several times, and when he couldn’t, he resorted to provoking you with insults, even mocking your father? You couldn’t hold back, so you killed him. Why don’t you say that?”

Qin Ruqing had seen it with her own eyes.

That man originally tried to kill Fifth Lingyu but lacked the strength and ended up being subdued.

Out of shame and anger, he started spouting insults.

“You think your father has kept it well-hidden? Doesn’t everyone know you’re a monster who killed your own mother? Who else has ever stayed in their mother’s womb for thirteen months and still been born? Ha! Do you know how many people your father has silenced behind the scenes to protect you? You think his hands are clean? But a monster is still a monster. A clan leader of celestial status is still naive enough to think he can reform you, hahaha—ah!”

Fifth Lingyu had gripped the man’s neck, firmly and without question.

His movements were slow, almost leisurely, as he choked the man, as if he were merely crushing an ant.

His eyes were calm, as if he weren’t killing someone but rather watching.

Watching a slow, grotesque death.

Watching someone he despised reveal their ugly side in his grasp.

But this scene was witnessed by a passing servant.

Terrified by the expression on Fifth Lingyu’s face, the servant fled in fear and reported it to the clan leader.

That’s how Fifth Mao found out.