Chapter 232 - 173: Responsibility (2)

"Sigh. You can’t be blamed for this. Don’t be too hard on yourself. If she had died, the consequences would have been even more severe. I’m sure the clan will handle it properly."

Song Yulong felt a little helpless as well. The whole affair was just too coincidental. No matter what they chose, the Song Clan couldn’t have stayed out of it. One could only say it was... fate.

After making his rounds, Song Changsheng returned to the Minor Affairs Hall. He deftly handled a large stack of administrative tasks, then took out three Qiankun Bags and began to inspect his haul from the day’s battle.

He had slain a total of four Blood Demons in the battle, and the three Tier Two High-Grade Red Sword Talismans had played a crucial role. He had originally prepared them for entering the Qiantian Secret Realm, but ended up not using them.

The fact that he had been able to end the fight so decisively was largely thanks to those three Talismans. He hadn’t thought much of it while using them, but in hindsight, the expense made him wince.

After all, a single Tier Two High-Grade Talisman was worth at least two to three thousand Spirit Stones. In other words, he had essentially thrown away just under ten thousand Spirit Stones in that one battle.

’Please don’t disappoint me,’ Song Changsheng thought as he picked up the Qiankun Bag of an Early-stage Foundation Establishment Demon Cultivator. He opened it and poured out a pile of treas—er, junk.

That’s right, junk. Aside from two Tier Two Low-Grade Demon Artifacts, the man had basically nothing of value on him.

There were only a pathetic few hundred Spirit Stones—Low-Grade ones, at that. This was quite possibly the poorest Foundation Establishment Cultivator Song Changsheng had ever encountered.

’Maybe they didn’t carry everything with them?’ Song Changsheng mused. It seemed like the only logical explanation. After all, there was no way a Foundation Establishment Cultivator could have so few assets, no matter what they did for a living.

At this thought, Song Changsheng’s expression instantly darkened. ’Don’t tell me I’m actually going to take a loss on this?’

He hurriedly opened the Qiankun Bag of the Mid-stage Foundation Establishment Demon Cultivator, only to find another pile of junk. The only valuable items were a few Demon Artifacts, and there were just over a thousand Spirit Stones.

Utterly disheartened, Song Changsheng clung to his last shred of hope and opened the Qiankun Bag belonging to the Blood Demon Steward. But, as expected, there were no surprises. Aside from the High-Grade Spiritual Artifact he had subdued, there was nothing else of value, and fewer than three thousand Spirit Stones.

Staring at the mountain of "junk," Song Changsheng’s face turned as black as the bottom of a pot. ’They’re just too poor!’ If it weren’t for the few Tier Two Spiritual Artifacts and the one High-Grade Spiritual Artifact, he would have actually lost money on this venture!

Song Changsheng assumed his haul was so meager because they had left most of their wealth behind before undertaking their mission. What he didn’t know was that the pile of "junk" before him was everything these Demon Cultivators owned.

It might sound absurd, but it wasn’t hard to understand if one thought about it.

These Demon Cultivators actually lived miserable lives. They were like rats scurrying in the shadows, hunted by all. They normally didn’t dare show their faces in public, so their income was naturally low—just enough to sustain their Cultivation. "Savings" were a luxury they couldn’t afford.

’Still, at least there’s the High-Grade Spiritual Artifact. Even if its value is on the low side, it’s still worth tens of thousands of Spirit Stones. All told, I still made a small profit...’

Several days passed. Song Changsheng was in the middle of absorbing Yin Yang Qi when he saw a massive Paper Kite glide through the clouds, heading toward Vast Mist Peak.

Song Changsheng glanced up and saw a young man and woman standing atop the Paper Kite, which was over ten feet wide.

The young woman was about sixteen or seventeen, with bright eyes, pearly teeth, and skin fairer than snow. She had a tall, slender figure and wore a simple green dress without any jewelry. Her long black hair was tied back with a single colorful ribbon, swaying in the wind and radiating youthful vitality.

The young man was eighteen or nineteen, dressed in a black robe and cradling a Long Sword. His eyes were deep, his expression cold, as if nothing in the world was worthy of his attention.

’These two youngsters couldn’t wait any longer, it seems. To think they’d come looking for me themselves. But I really can’t get away right now.’ Song Changsheng stroked his chin, wondering what a reasonable explanation would be.

Before the Paper Kite even touched the ground, Song Qingxing leaped off, landing in front of Song Changsheng. "When are we departing?" he asked calmly.

Song Changsheng felt a headache coming on. He cleared his throat and said, "We need to wait a bit longer. Things are turbulent right now."

"Are you going back on your word?" Song Qingxing’s brow furrowed slightly, and a glint of Sword Qi flashed in his eyes for an instant.

Song Changsheng was about to reason with him properly when, a moment later, a figure crashed into his arms. He didn’t even need to look to know who it was. An indulgent smile touched his lips. "You’re a grown woman now, have you no shame?"

Unfazed, Song Qingxi clung to his arm and complained, "Little Uncle, why were you gone so long this time? You didn’t even tell Xi’Er you were back."

"Didn’t I tell you I would be gone for quite a while? Did you practice your cultivation diligently while I was away?" Song Changsheng asked, deliberately putting on a stern face.

In response, Song Qingxi revealed her Cultivation level and announced proudly, "Xi’Er is already at the Qi Refining Seventh Layer."

"Not bad. You’ll get a reward later," Song Changsheng said, genuinely surprised. Song Qingxi was only sixteen, after all. He himself had only reached that same level of Cultivation at her age by relying on the Daoist Scripture.

At this thought, he glanced at Song Qingxing again. The young man was already at the Qi Refining Ninth Layer. And he was only eighteen! His cultivation speed was even a notch faster than Song Changsheng’s had been back in the day.

’No wonder he’s so anxious,’ Song Changsheng mused with a slight frown. ’At his rate of progress, he could form his Dao Foundation within three years. There really isn’t much time.’ The trip to the Celestial Sword Sect was vital for Song Qingxing’s future; he definitely had to take him.

But the clan was in a turbulent state. The Clan Leader, Song Xianming, was in seclusion unto death; the Grand Elder’s injuries had not yet healed; and the clan was about to hold its grand competition to select three members to receive a Foundation Establishment Pill.

At a time like this, as the Young Clan Leader, he had to shoulder his responsibilities, hold down the fort at the Minor Affairs Hall, and could not leave his post lightly.

Facing Song Qingxing’s cold gaze, Song Changsheng sighed. "Once there’s someone to take charge of the clan’s affairs, I will take you to the Celestial Sword Sect."

"You’re not the only person in the clan," Song Qingxing replied, clearly dissatisfied with the answer. As far as he was concerned, they should have departed last year, but it had been delayed until now.

"The clan has more than just me, that’s true, but everyone has different duties. As the Young Clan Leader, I carry the honor and disgrace, the rise and fall, of the entire clan. That is my responsibility." Song Changsheng slowly shook his head. ’The entire family is resting on my shoulders, how can I just up and leave?’

Song Qingxing stared directly into his eyes and said flatly, "With your talent, the clan will only be a burden to you."

Hearing this, Song Changsheng frowned. ’This is not a good sign at all,’ he thought.

He looked at Song Qingxing seriously. "I know you don’t feel much attachment to the clan, but no matter what, the blood of the Taiyi Ancestor flows through your veins. You are a part of this clan, too.

"You may think the clan is a burden, but I’m telling you, without the clan, neither you nor I might have ever had the chance to cultivate.

"For hundreds of years, our clan has never abandoned a single member. No matter how poor your aptitude, the clan will squeeze out resources to support your cultivation. For no other reason than because we are family.

"And since we’ve benefited from the clan’s resources, we naturally have to bear the corresponding responsibilities. You may not understand that now, but I hope you will come to understand this principle one day."

Song Qingxing’s eyes were like stagnant pools, without a single ripple. The two stared at each other calmly. After a long moment, he said flatly, "Notify me when you’re leaving."

With that, he walked straight into Song Changsheng’s courtyard, sat cross-legged in the backyard, and began to cultivate.

The corner of Song Changsheng’s mouth curved into a faint smile. ’He is changing, however slightly,’ he thought. ’I was going to ask Song Qingxi to try and persuade him, but it looks like that won’t be necessary anymore.’

"You two are so strange every time you meet," Song Qingxi said with a pout, sitting on a nearby stone bench with her face cupped in her hands.

Song Changsheng chuckled. "It’s just our unique way of communicating. I heard you two went down the mountain to get some experience. Tell me about it?"

The young woman’s eyes lit up instantly. She grabbed Song Changsheng’s arm and began chattering away excitedly.

The more Song Changsheng listened, the more astonished he became. ’These two are unbelievably reckless...’