On that day, the Chen clan’s estate was adorned with lanterns and streamers. A lively atmosphere enveloped the clan, spilling over into the surrounding areas.
It was a momentous occasion, one that brought joy to many in the clan. Clan leader Chen Xingzhen had personally overseen preparations from the early hours, temporarily setting aside his martial training. The festivities included the unveiling of rice wine brewed from grain stores.
Although the alcohol content of the rice wine was modest, it was enough to leave people in high spirits. Even Ji Yang, residing in the Ancestral Hall, took a sip—though, he couldn’t truly savor the flavor.
Beyond the standard grain-based brew, the Chen clan had also prepared limited quantities of wine made from blood rice. This special wine not only tasted exceptional but also carried a higher concentration of qi and blood, ideal for martial artists seeking to strengthen their bodies. However, its brewing process was lengthy; the next batch wouldn’t be ready until spring.
In the Ancestral Hall, spirits of past generations joined in the celebration. Some watched joyfully, witnessing their descendants’ marriages. For many of these spirits, it was an unexpected blessing to witness such happiness even after death.
Yet, amidst the joy, two ghosts lingered in a corner, sighing softly.
To further mark the occasion, the clan invited leaders from neighboring villages. Initially apprehensive, the village leaders soon warmed up after several rounds of wine, their earlier reservations fading.
The clan’s intention behind hosting these leaders was strategic. Strengthening ties with the villages ensured smoother coordination for future endeavors, especially as the Chen clan expanded its influence across Chaotic Burial Mountain.
As the day gave way to evening and the moon cast its light over the snow-covered landscape, the earlier merriment gradually quieted. Guests, including the village elders, retired to temporary accommodations within the Chen estate.
“Clan Chief, allow me to help you back to your quarters,” an elder offered.
“No need,” Chen Xingzhen replied, waving the suggestion away. “You should rest early as well.”
With measured steps, he walked toward his room. The day’s events had left him content but weary. As the clan leader, his presence had been essential throughout the celebrations, and in the spirit of the occasion, he had indulged in a few extra cups of wine.
Though he could have used his martial arts prowess to purge the alcohol from his system, he chose not to. It was a rare day for the clan to celebrate without concerns.
Reclining on his bed, Chen Xingzhen allowed the stillness to envelop him. His breathing steadied, and soon, he drifted into a dream.
In his dream, Chen Xingzhen stood face-to-face with his father, Chen Changming.
“Father, you’re here,” he greeted warmly.
Yet, something about Chen Changming’s demeanor felt off. Concerned, Chen Xingzhen asked, “Father, is something troubling you? Have I neglected an important matter within the clan?”
Chen Changming hesitated before speaking, his tone cautious. “Xingzhen, you’re not young anymore. You’ve done much for the clan, but as clan leader, shouldn’t you consider marrying and having children?”
The words startled Chen Xingzhen, and he woke abruptly, his dream dissolving into the dim quiet of his room. He sat up, running a hand over his face, as though wiping away nonexistent sweat.
“Father,” he muttered with a bitter smile, “I know I’m not young anymore. But as the clan leader, how can I—”
He didn’t finish the thought. The responsibilities of leadership often left little room for personal desires.
Chen Changming, who had also been stirred from the dream, sighed deeply.
He was only a little older, but as a warrior in the Blood Coagulation Realm, his body remained strong, and he still had the vigor to make a difference. From a parent's perspective, he simply wanted what was best for Chen Xingzhen.
However, seeing his son's clear reluctance, Chen Changming decided not to press the matter further. Though Chen Xingzhen had no direct descendants, the clan had many younger clansmen. With their growing numbers and bright potential, he wasn’t worried about the future of the Chen lineage.
Meanwhile, in another part of the estate, Chen Tianshun paced outside a secluded chamber, worry etched across his face. Inside was his son, Chen Qingyu, who was deep in closed-door cultivation.
Having witnessed the day’s marriages, Chen Tianshun couldn’t help but think of his own son. Chen Qingyu, soon to be fourteen, was of an age when most in Chaotic Burial Mountain had already started families. Yet, he remained unmarried.
“Could it be...” Chen Tianshun mused uneasily, “...that Qingyu doesn’t like women?”
Over the past two months, the Chen clan had undergone significant growth. The clan’s population had doubled, and under Chen Xingzhen’s leadership, new buildings were planned and constructed, making the estate more organized and efficient.
Among the clanswomen, many now bore the hopes of the next generation. With the Divine Tree’s blessings, the clan no longer feared death.
The younger generation’s progress in martial arts was equally noteworthy. Several clansmen had already mastered Taizu Long Fist, a foundational martial art taught within the clan.
To everyone’s surprise, the first to grasp its techniques was Chen Qingmeng, despite his average talent. Inspired by his success, Chen Qinghe began practicing as well.
By the seventh day of training, Qinghe had made significant strides, proving that with diligence, even foundational techniques could be mastered. The third to succeed was Chen Tianquan, a late-stage Body Tempering Realm elder. Though pleased with his achievement, he felt a pang of embarrassment—being surpassed in speed by juniors was humbling.
Still, talent rarely adhered to seniority, and the progress of the younger generation spurred many middle-aged warriors to redouble their efforts.
As winter’s grip began to loosen and the snow melted, the Chen clan shifted focus to the year ahead. The arrival of spring would mark the beginning of the planting season, a crucial time for sowing grain and blood rice.
The clan had nearly exhausted its winter stores, and with blood rice reserves dwindling, ensuring the timely harvest of the year’s first crop was imperative. The future of the Chen clan depended on it.