The Memorial Hall stood quietly beside the cemetery behind White Moon Sect.

This place was built to commemorate the cultivators who had sacrificed their lives protecting the sect throughout the centuries. Their names were engraved upon the black marble walls, allowing their families, friends, and disciples to have a place to remember them.

After all, when a cultivator died fighting a Pishacha, it was often impossible to recover the body.

The monsters rarely left anything behind. Sometimes, not even bones remained.

Because of that, this hall had become the resting place of countless memories.

At this hour of the night, the hall was mostly empty. Only, an elderly guard sat near the entrance reading a book under the lantern light.

Inside the hall, Shen Xing stood alone before one of the walls.

Her gaze remained fixed on a single name.

Wu Yuna.

Her mother.

For a long while, she simply stood there quietly.

Her thoughts slowly drifted back to the past.

She still remembered the day she successfully stepped onto the path of cultivation.

At that time, she had been so excited that she immediately ran home to share the news.

Before she could even finish speaking, her mother had already hugged her.

That night, mother and daughter celebrated with a feast.

When her father returned home, he found the two of them happily eating together while most of the dishes had already disappeared from the table.

He could only stand there with a helpless smile.

In the end, the cooks had to prepare another meal just for him.

Thinking about that scene, a small smile appeared on Shen Xing’s face.

Then she remembered another incident.

When she first became a disciple, the robes prepared by the sect were far too large for her small body.

The sleeves almost reached the ground whenever she walked.

She had complained about it all evening.

That same night, her mother sat beside a lamp and personally adjusted the robes.

The next morning, they fit perfectly.

Back then, Shen Xing had happily worn them around the sect and showed them off to everyone she met.

Only now did she realise how much care her mother had put into such a small thing.

As more memories surfaced, her expression gradually softened.

When she lost to other disciples during training and returned home crying, it was her mother who comforted her.

When her father trained her too harshly and left her covered in bruises, it was her mother who applied medicine to her wounds while scolding Shen Kai for being too strict.

Whenever she encountered a problem, her mother was always there.

Whether it was something important or something trivial.

Whether she was happy or sad.

As long as she turned around, she could always find her mother nearby.

Then Shen Xing thought about the incident she would never forget.

Back then, she had secretly sneaked out of the sect because she was curious about the outside world.

At first, everything seemed exciting.

Then she encountered a Pishacha.

The disciples of White Moon Sect always held back during sparring. The elders protected her. Even wild beasts generally avoided cultivators.

But, the Pishacha was different.

It only wanted to kill her.

To it, she was nothing more than food.

The terrifying killing intent froze her in place.

Her legs refused to move.

Her mind went blank.

At that moment, she genuinely thought she was going to die.

Then her mother appeared like aa hero.

Even after all these years, Shen Xing could still remember how relieved she felt.

The monster that had frightened her so badly was cut down by her mother. Since it wanted to eat her her mother, dared to bite it too.

So fierce.

That was the first time she truly understood what strength meant.

That was also when she started taking cultivation seriously.

She wanted to become strong like her mother.

Unfortunately, not everything went the way she wished.

Not long afterwards, her mother began falling ill.

At first, nobody paid much attention thinking it was some small disease.

However, as time passed, the situation became increasingly strange.

A cultivator becoming sick was already abnormal. Moreover for so long.

To make matters worse, even the Alchemy Hall couldn’t determine what illness she suffered from.

Some days she seemed perfectly healthy.

Other days, she could barely leave her room.

Shen Xing still remembered how worried everyone had been.

Yet despite that, her mother always smiled and reassured them.

Eventually, her condition improved slightly.

At least, it seemed that way.

Then the accident happened.

A supply convoy needed to travel outside the mountains.

Because it was the season when Pishacha activity was at its lowest, the mission should have been safe.

Her mother volunteered to accompany the convoy to inspect the supplies..

She went as always, but this time she never returned.

The convoy was attacked on the way back.

When the rescue team arrived, there were no survivors.

Only blood stains, some dead Pishachas, and traces of battle remained.

At first, Shen Xing refused to believe it.

Her father searched her mother for weeks.

He searched the mountains personally.

As long as a body wasn’t found, there was still hope.

Unfortunately, hope alone couldn’t change reality.

In the end, they found nothing.

Her mother was officially declared dead.

Thinking about that day, Shen Xing lowered her head.

The smile on her face disappeared completely.

She gently touched the engraved name on the wall.

The stone was cold and hard.

Far colder than the warm and soft hand she remembered holding as a child.

"I miss you, Mom."

Her voice echoed softly inside the quiet hall.

"You know, that old woman brought back two guests today."

A faint smile appeared on her face again.

"The woman is very interesting. She looks cold on the surface, but she’s actually very thoughtful."

"And that man..."

Shen Xing paused. Then shook her head.

"He likes showing off too much. But his stories are interesting."

She remembered Su Mo talking endlessly about his adventures.

Fighting evil cultivators. Exploring ruins. Defeating strange creatures.

Meeting all sorts of races.

Even now, she wasn’t sure how much of it was true. Do those races exist?

Yet listening to those stories had been enjoyable.

For a moment, she found herself wondering what the outside world truly looked like.

Was it really as exciting as he described?

Unfortunately, that thought quickly faded away.