Chapter 132: Chapter 132: Grievous News Arrives

"Someone’s coming out! Someone’s coming out!"

"Who is it? The Old Village Chief? Or that kid?"

"I don’t know. Judging by their build, it must be the kid!"

Seeing the figure appear, the crowd at the Palace entrance erupted into a commotion.

Yang Yu and the others also stared intently at the approaching figure. A moment later, the person’s face was finally revealed—it was none other than Shen Haoran, emerging from the Palace!

When they saw Shen Haoran emerge, the crowd gasped. "He actually walked out of that black, toxic mist!"

Those words were a harsh slap across the faces of everyone who had just proclaimed Shen Haoran dead in the mist. The old man named Wu, in particular, flushed beet-red as he stared at Shen Haoran, looking as if he wished the ground would swallow him whole.

"How is he, Brother Shen? How is my father?" Yang Yu paid no mind to how Shen Haoran had moved so freely within the toxic mist. The moment he saw him, he rushed forward and asked, his face a mask of anxiety.

Seeing Yang Yu’s desperation, Shen Haoran’s expression grew heavy. He shook his head and said apologetically, "Brother Yang, I did my best. The Nether Poison had already seeped into his very bones. By the time I reached him, he had already passed away..."

"What...?" Shen Haoran’s words struck Yang Yu like a bolt from the blue. For a moment, he felt as if his whole world was caving in. He swayed on his feet before collapsing into Yang Zhenlan’s arms.

Hearing the news of Yang Zhentian’s death, everyone present reacted differently. Some, like Yang Zhenlan, were overcome with grief. Others whispered amongst themselves. A few even wore cold smirks. Shen Haoran scanned the crowd, committing each of their expressions to memory.

"Hmph. I thought you were so capable. Why couldn’t you save Old Village Chief Yang, then?" The old man named Wu, whose face was still burning with shame from seeing Shen Haoran emerge from the black mist unscathed, found his mood instantly improving. He immediately stepped forward to taunt him.

Shen Haoran looked at the old man and said coolly, "You are unworthy of the title ’Alchemy Grandmaster’."

"Unworthy? What right do you have to say I’m unworthy?" the old man sneered. "I began my study of Alchemy at the age of five and became a Sixth Grade Alchemy Grandmaster in a mere seventy years. What gives a young whelp like you the right to judge me?"

"So what?" Shen Haoran retorted bluntly. "An Alchemist should be broad-minded, humble, and magnanimous. A petty, vengeful person like you would be nothing but a disgrace to the Alchemy Realm, even if you reached the rank of an Eighth or Ninth Grade Alchemist!"

Hearing Shen Haoran’s words, the old man named Wu was so furious his beard trembled. He pointed a finger at Shen Haoran’s face and roared, "You young punk! Today, I’ll teach you the lesson your parents clearly failed to, and show you what true humility is!" With that, he prepared to strike.

"Stop!" a voice suddenly rang out, filled with chilling authority.

The speaker was Yang Yu. His face had once again become an emotionless mask. The forceful, aloof Yang Yu had returned.

But Shen Haoran could still see the profound grief hidden deep within Yang Yu’s eyes. ’The blow of a father’s death isn’t something one can process in an instant,’ he thought. ’It’s a testament to his strength that he can even do this much.’

Yang Yu looked at Shen Haoran and gave a slight nod. ’This is no time for grief,’ he thought. ’I have to be strong. With Father gone, if I can’t shoulder this burden, Black Wind Stronghold is finished. Everything Father worked his entire life for will be for nothing!’

WHOOSH... Yang Yu took a deep breath, then turned to the old man. "Grandmaster Wu, Brother Shen did everything he could. This matter is not his fault."

"Furthermore, he is not only my friend but also an honored guest of Black Wind Stronghold. I ask you to conduct yourself with respect. Otherwise, we will consider your actions a provocation against all of Black Wind Stronghold!"

Hearing Yang Yu’s words, Grandmaster Wu flew into a rage. "Is this how you treat an Alchemy Master? I must have been blind to come and help you in the first place!"

At this, Yang Yu’s brow furrowed. "It was nothing more than a transaction of mutual benefit."

"Hmph. In that case, where’s our payment?"

Hearing this, the crowd looked at Grandmaster Wu with disgust. To think a dignified Sixth Grade Alchemy Grandmaster would lose his composure over such a paltry sum!

Yang Yu’s face was also a mask of disgust. Unwilling to waste another breath on the man, he turned to Yang Zhenlan and said, "Second Uncle, bring their payment. Give it to them and have them leave."

"Yes, Young Master!" Yang Zhenlan responded, then led Grandmaster Wu and the three other Alchemists away.

With Grandmaster Wu gone, Yang Yu turned back to Shen Haoran. "Brother Shen, may I go in to see my father?"

Shen Haoran nodded. "You may. But we must wait for this toxic mist to dissipate. Without a host to sustain it, it won’t last much longer."

"Mm," Yang Yu acknowledged. He then closed his eyes, as if trying to process the overwhelming news.

Sure enough, a short while later, the toxic mist surrounding the Palace faded away. Staring into the dim, deathly silent room, Yang Yu took a deep breath and stepped inside. The others hurried to follow.

Inside, Yang Zhentian lay collapsed on a meditation cushion, his face a mask of agony, clear evidence of the immense torment he had endured.

Seeing Yang Zhentian, Chao Fei immediately stepped forward and carefully checked for any signs of life. He then shook his head, his expression pained, and said to Yang Yu, "Young Master, the Old Village Chief... he’s truly gone."

But as Chao Fei turned away, Shen Haoran caught the faintest hint of a sinister smile on his lips.

’Just as I thought,’ Shen Haoran noted internally. ’Chao Fei is a traitor.’

Even though Yang Yu already knew the outcome, the sight of his father’s condition still sent a searing pain through his heart.

Yang Yu walked to Yang Zhentian’s side and gently knelt. He gazed at his father’s haggard face as two streams of tears traced paths down his own cheeks. "Father, rest in peace. I will take care of Black Wind Stronghold. I swear I will not let down the legacy of our Yang Family ancestors!"

Silence. A heavy silence descended upon the room. Everyone stared at Yang Yu’s desolate figure, rendered speechless.

After a long moment, Yang Yu’s cold voice broke the silence. "Pass down my orders. Recall all Elders and disciples currently on missions. Effective today, all activities within the stronghold are to cease. The entire stronghold will don mourning attire to see off the Old Village Chief."

"Young Master," Chao Fei began in a low voice, "isn’t having the entire stronghold wear mourning clothes a bit... excessive? After all, the Old Village Chief only has so many close relatives..." But before he could finish, Yang Yu cut him off sharply.

"I said, it’s an order!"

"Yes..." Facing the impossibly forceful Yang Yu, Chao Fei gritted his teeth and bowed his head in compliance.

"I will take my leave," Chao Fei said before exiting Yang Zhentian’s Palace.

Once outside, Chao Fei shot a venomous glare back at the Palace. ’Hmph. Be arrogant while you can. In a few more days, Black Wind Stronghold will belong to the Chao family!’

With that, Chao Fei flicked his long sleeve, and his figure vanished among the mountain woods...