High Martial: I Grind Professions

Chapter 255: Chapter 161: Four Years, Meeting Fang Chengwu Again

"Bluestone County was attacked by multiple Bright Moon Realm demons?" Li Wen’s pupils contracted sharply. His first reaction was intense disbelief. This completely overturned everything he thought he knew.

’How is that possible? A Stargate that allows Bright Moon Realm demons to pass through could never appear near a small county town!’

This was a key point emphasized repeatedly in the general education courses at Xinhuo University, and it was also a conclusion drawn from over two hundred years of the Human Race observing the flow of cosmic energy.

Stargates created by minor spatial disturbances usually had energy levels that could only support the passage of Flying Star Level demons. Bright Moon Level demons would only appear near medium or large-scale underground dungeons.

A small county town like Bluestone County had never in its history experienced an invasion by high-level demons on this scale.

However, an icy chill immediately shot up his spine.

The source of the information on the internal news network was extremely reliable; the possibility of it being fake was zero.

A bad premonition, like a cold vine, instantly wrapped around his heart, squeezing tighter and tighter.

Bluestone County.

His parents were still there.

Years ago, a single late-stage Flying Star Level Demon Beast had nearly caused the fall of the entire county.

Now... it was twenty Bright Moon Realm demons, plus a hundred Peak of Flying Star demons.

If the county fell, it would be an absolute, total annihilation.

For the small county that had raised him, for the hundreds of thousands of ordinary people living there, for... his parents who lived there...

The mere thought sent a suffocating fear through him.

It would be an absolutely, utterly unacceptable outcome.

With a faint, imperceptible tremor in his fingertips, he tapped on the headline.

The screen showed a brief loading animation.

In those few short seconds of waiting, Li Wen had never felt time pass so slowly. His heart pounded heavily and rapidly in his chest.

He even held his breath, his attention locked on the screen, silently repeating an almost desperate prayer in his heart: ’Please be okay... Please, let everything be okay...’

The page refreshed.

Below the bold headline, the first line of the article’s body leaped into view with stark clarity:

[The six Bright Moon Realm experts of the Changning City Garrison (Lin Zhan, Zhang Li, Li Zhenhua, Wang Tie, Chen Mo, and Song Xue) fought to the death without retreating. All were martyred, buying precious time for the Mountain Rain King to arrive. The twenty Bright Moon Realm greater demons and one hundred Peak of Flying Star Realm demon soldiers have all been slain. Bluestone County has been saved!]

His heart, which had been lodged in his throat, finally slammed back into place—but it didn’t land on solid ground. Instead, it sank into a mire of ice and fire.

His parents were safe. The realization caused his tense body to relax slightly.

But what followed was a heavy, suffocating feeling.

They had held the line. The cost was the lives of six Bright Moon Realm experts.

Six prodigies of the Human Race, in the prime of their lives and at the same cultivation realm as him, their names listed right there—Lin Zhan, Zhang Li, Li Zhenhua, Wang Tie, Chen Mo, and Song Xue.

They were his parents’ saviors, the saviors of hundreds of thousands of people in Bluestone County. This realization weighed heavily on his heart.

He stared silently at the six names, one by one, as if to engrave them into the depths of his soul.

Heroes. They were truly worthy of the title.

His gaze moved further down the page, and he saw the official follow-up arrangements.

A pinned message from an internal Xinhuo University group was quoted: "The heroic souls of six alumni—Lin Zhan, Li Zhenhua, Zhang Hao, Wang Tie, Chen Mo, and Song Xue—will return to their alma mater tomorrow at 9 a.m. In accordance with university regulations, they will be interred in the Xinhuo Ancestral Vein."

...

「The next day, at dawn.」

An invisible weight hung in the air.

Li Wen had changed into a set of simple, dark-colored clothes early in the morning and walked out of his courtyard.

He had confirmed by phone last night that his parents, aside from being frightened, were physically unharmed.

This peace had been bought with the flesh and blood of six alumni whom he had never met, but who had given their lives for his loved ones.

The funeral was held in a solemn and dignified hall on the mountainside, nestled against a lush, green forest. It was named the Heroic Soul Hall.

When he arrived, the wide plaza in front of the hall was already filled with disciples from the various main peaks of Xinhuo University.

The usual energy and vitality had been replaced by a low, mournful grief and a suppressed solemnity.

Everyone present, regardless of their cultivation level, was silent, their faces grim.

The grief hanging in the air was so thick it felt suffocating.

He could see some of the older disciples, their eyes red and lips pressed tightly together, clearly struggling to control their surging emotions.

Some of them might have known Lin Zhan and the others, or perhaps even fought alongside them.

Li Wen said nothing. His gaze met briefly with a few disciples he knew. They nodded to each other, the heavy mood passing between them without a word.

Inside the hall, six caskets draped with the Xinhuo flag were placed in the center.

Li Wen walked to the front of the line, took a deep breath to suppress the turmoil in his heart and the guilt born from his gratitude, and bowed deeply and respectfully in the direction of the six heroes’ remains.

It was the highest form of respect at Xinhuo University, reserved for teachers and elders, now offered to the six fallen heroes.

Afterward, the university president personally presided over the funeral service.

His usually gentle and calm face now held only sorrow and solemnity, his low, clear voice echoing in every corner of the hall.

There were no impassioned slogans, only quiet reminiscences about their lives and a calm narration of the meaning of their sacrifice.

Every word struck a chord in the hearts of the crowd.

The entire ceremony was solemn and sorrowful.

As the caskets were carried toward the Xinhuo Ancestral Vein for burial, watching the procession slowly disappear among the green pines and cypresses, an indescribable sense of shared fate gripped everyone present.

The fate of Lin Zhan and the others today was, perhaps, a realistic preview of the fate that awaited many of them tomorrow.