Chapter Sixty-Nine: The Family Banquet of the Mo Clan

Inside the speeding car, the Flower Thief was taken aback to encounter them here of all places. Should he inform the boss? Normally, he would have jumped out to greet the lovely Qianyin, but this was not the time. If An Feng and the others caught wind of their plan, his life would be in grave danger.

But perhaps he should at least let the boss know that the charming Qianyin had returned.

The Flower Thief was torn. He was only here to deliver food to those up on the mountain—after all, they were no gods, and that kind of physical labor required a great deal of sustenance.

The man at the wheel wasn’t the Flower Thief, but a young assassin he barely knew. The man drove fast, and that was why he had been brought along. The car’s license plate was obscured and everything was sealed up tight, all to ensure a quick escape should the police make a surprise check.

Meanwhile, Han still watched those people’s efforts from afar, leaning quietly against an untouched tree, lost in silent meditation. Since meeting Qianyin, he found himself missing her terribly. He’d spent so long in that place, never thinking of her, but now, in these recent days, he could think of nothing else.

Perhaps he was indeed bewitched. The ghost of a smile played at Han’s lips as he mused.

The boss, stepping out to observe his people’s progress, happened to catch this fleeting smile and found it rather incredible. In his eyes, Han was his most promising recruit—a killer should be cold and unfeeling, after all. The others, so obedient, seemed weak to him. Only Han dared to defy him, and for that, he admired Han’s spirit.

To preserve that spirit, the boss had never forced Han to take any drugs. But now, it seemed Han was slipping beyond his control, retaining his human nature—and his conscience.

It seemed the boss could not trust Han with everything after all. Perhaps he ought to find someone truly loyal, someone willing to devote themselves to him without question. After pondering for a moment, the boss turned and went back inside the temple.

Thus, the boss’s interest shifted to the other top ten assassins, men of steely resolve who had yet to come under his command. The first and second ranked in particular drew his attention; after all, to stand atop the assassin world required genuine skill.

At the dinner table, everyone was in high spirits. After all, the storm had passed. The kitchen auntie had come to know everyone’s tastes, so each person found their favorite dishes before them.

“Here are all your favorites, eat up! It’s rare for everyone to be together like this,” Old Master Mo said warmly, helping the children to more food.

Master Mo himself said nothing, sitting quietly by, watching his home come alive as it hadn’t in years. All these guests were his daughter’s friends, friends who had given much to his family. He realized how cold he had been to his daughter, how much hardship and grievance she had borne.

Mo Lan smiled at the gathering, never having imagined her home could be so warm and full of joy. In the past, she had felt this house held no meaning; even when work was light, she never wished to return.

Mo Fan, sensing the lingering distance between his father and sister, tugged at his father’s hand, signaling that a few words might help mend their bond. Though he’d been young, he remembered that before their mother died, his father had truly loved his sister.

Understanding, Master Mo picked up a chicken wing, glanced at Mo Lan, and cautiously placed it in her bowl. “Have a piece of chicken, you’ve suffered so much over the years,” he said gently, his voice catching. Before Mo Lan could respond, he returned to his seat.

Old Master Mo, watching his son finally awaken to the truth, said nothing more, only smiling fondly at those present.

Mo Lan was stunned—for as long as she could remember, her father hadn’t served her food. Since her mother’s passing, he had ceased to treat her as his daughter.

“Thank you, Dad,” she said, choking up. The words had been buried in her heart for so long, and saying them brought her a sense of relief.

Qianyin, putting aside her own troubles, watched Mo Lan and felt genuine happiness for her. To see her fall in love, to see her father welcome her back, to see her become once more the cherished princess—Qianyin was truly glad for her friend.

An Feng, witnessing the scene, also felt a surge of joy. He, too, had grown up without parental company, and envied the warmth of family. But he still had his uncle—a nagging, motherly figure, but family nonetheless.

Leng Xue felt little emotion; he had never known his parents, and everything he’d done over the years was for himself alone. He had never sought to find his origins, nor to follow anyone. Once, he believed being the best assassin was his sole hope. Now, winning the girl home was his greatest wish.

The four little ones were genuinely envious of such a family, though they now considered themselves part of it, finding contentment in that belonging. Besides, with Qianyin’s companionship, they lacked for nothing.

Elder Immortal, now in his twilight years, looked upon the table of young faces with great joy, for each child was so lovable.

“Come, let’s all have a drink! Today is a day worth celebrating—let’s not leave until we’re all tipsy. You’re allowed to indulge just this once, since we’re at home,” Old Master Mo declared, rising and raising his glass, entirely forgetting that it contained nothing but healthful medicinal wine.

At his words, everyone stood with laughter and clinking glasses, downing their drinks in one go.

The new servants, seeing this heartwarming scene, found themselves homesick.

The drinking grew ever more boisterous, with everyone toasting and drinking heartily. Qianyin and Mo Lan, their thoughts running deep, drank a little too much and were the first to collapse at the table.

An Feng and Leng Xue saw it as the perfect occasion and had a few more drinks themselves, their faces flushed. When everyone else was finally overcome by drink, the two of them efficiently carried everyone off to their rooms.

An Feng, having finished his task, retired to his own room. He had no wish to visit Mo Lan’s room and risk any awkwardness or a bad impression.

Leng Xue, on the other hand, sat quietly at Qianyin’s bedside, carefully placing a cool towel on her forehead and setting a glass of warm water within reach. Then he simply watched her sleeping, his gaze gentle.

The other servants, understanding them to be a couple, left them undisturbed. Leng Xue remained at her side, resting his chin on his hand, eyes full of affection.

To have the one he loved sleeping so near—such a feeling was wondrous. If only every night could be like this, watching her peaceful slumber.

Once the servants had tidied up, they too went to rest. Thus, tranquility settled over the Mo household.