Volume One: The Youngest Among Three Hundred Chapter One Hundred: Rebirth in Another World

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Within the estate, upon hearing the family head Su Qingtang’s words, the servant hurried back along the same path at top speed to escort the Wuying Guard members inside. One of them was an old member, neatly dressed with a dignified and handsome appearance, exuding a heroic aura.

“Greetings, sir!” Su Qingtang led his family in a deep bow, mindful that the visitors held official positions while they were mere civilians.

“Hm.”

The visitor from the Wuying Guard nodded slightly, cast a glance at the dishes on the table and the harmonious family scene, but the prepared words stuck painfully in his throat.

After a brief hesitation, he spoke truthfully, “Everyone, I have an extremely unfortunate message to deliver: Chen Chang’an died in the line of duty.”

“W-what?”

Clatter! Qin Fuluo gasped in shock, dropping the white porcelain soup bowl, which shattered into fragments on the floor.

Su Wanqing and her husband Zhu Jiawen’s mouths froze mid-open; for a moment, they were at a loss for words, uncertain how to respond. Could they even believe the news they had just heard with their own ears?

Su Wanqiu’s heart tore painfully, as if a cut had been made and spicy water poured in; she bit her lips hard, a faint trace of blood seeping out.

Su Qingtang remained silent for a moment, then pressed a hand on the Wuying Guard visitor’s shoulder and asked urgently, “Is what you said true? Chen Chang’an is dead? No, that’s impossible, he…”

The other shook his head with a sigh. “Life and death are not matters to be falsified. I have come specifically to inform you and to bring his body back from the Wuying Guard.”

“Truly... truly dead?” Qin Fuluo’s limbs suddenly weakened and her vision darkened; she collapsed into Su Qingtang’s arms.

Su Wanqing and Zhu Jiawen exchanged uneasy glances, speechless.

Su Wanqiu, as his “wife,” turned and dashed back into her room, slamming the door shut behind her, vanishing from the scene.

Nearby, Su Dingfeng, who had just finished disciplining some men and was leisurely sitting aside, his delicate features now carved with deep lines of grief, kicked off the ground and sprang upward, stepping back on his sword to soar high, swiftly leaving the Su family estate. In the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, he arrived above the Wuying Guard’s training grounds.

“Who goes there!” A patrolling guard spotted him and immediately drew his sword, leaping with martial agility to the same height to block him.

“Begone!”

The white-clad swordsman pointed and unleashed a sword aura that repelled the guard, shouting loudly, “Chen Chang’an, eldest son of the Su clan, Su Dingfeng, has come to bring you home!”

The sound waves surged powerfully, echoing through every corner of the Wuying Guard.

In a room below, hearing the commotion, Cao Wu gently pushed open the door, deliberately suppressing all excessive emotion and spoke as calmly as possible, “Chen Chang’an’s body is here; take him away.”

Nearby, in another room, Song Jiu, who had just awakened from severe poisoning, curled his lips into a triumphant smirk and said, “Chen Chang’an, you have finally died!”

...

The night was tranquil as water; the courtyard was heavy with silence. The entire Su family gathered in the main hall, each silently immersed in oppressive grief. Chen Chang’an lay flat on the long board in the center rear, the scene utterly still.

Zhu Jiawen beat his chest in despair, lamenting, “Alas, alas, heaven is blind; our third brother-in-law should not have died this way!”

Su Wanqing was dazed, her eyes hollow.

Su Wanqiu remained locked in her room, refusing to come out.

“Wuwu…”

Qin Fuluo wailed, “Chang’an finally became such a good son-in-law... cough cough... I mean... in short... how can he be dead!”

“Master... Master, please find a way to save him!”

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Su Qingtang exhaled deeply without answering her, instead looking toward his eldest son, who stood at the doorway with arms crossed, gazing up at the starry sky, and asked, “Dingfeng, you grew up in Bashan and have vast experience—do you know any way to save Chang’an?”

Like Qin Fuluo, he had barely accepted that their formerly ordinary, blind son-in-law could now be part of the family, with plans for a happy future. How could they now lose him so soon?

It was unbearable.

Su Dingfeng was silent for a long moment, his face hidden in the darkness, his words slow and measured: “I’ve examined him thoroughly. His life force is completely severed. All natural methods of treatment are useless.”

“Even if my master Zhen Ziping were here, he would be helpless…”

“This…”

“Aiyo!” Qin Fuluo, barely restraining her sorrow, started wailing uncontrollably again.

Zhu Jiawen glanced at Su Dingfeng with some fear, hesitant between speaking and silence. Finally, he stammered, “Big… big brother… you said that all natural methods are useless. Does that mean… unnatural ones might work?”

“What… what unnatural methods?”

Su Dingfeng gave him a suspicious glare. “Methods that can fundamentally reverse his death. Do you have such a thing? Do you?”

Zhu Jiawen shook his head timidly. “N-no.”

Su Dingfeng’s lips curled down sharply. “Then why ask?”

He turned away, blending into the pitch-black night outside, muttering self-mockingly, “I don’t have it either. After all… in Da Min there are no Buddhas, Confucian sages have vanished, Taoist disciplines have withered, and the cultivation lineage is declining due to the depletion of spiritual energy.”

“As for martial artists, techniques like ‘Rebirth from the Past Life’ that can truly revive the dead haven’t appeared in hundreds of years.”

“Bah, no time for sadness. True strength is without emotion.”

...

The next day, the weather was mediocre—overcast with a southeast wind and signs of impending rain.

In a private room of Tianxiang Garden, Li Shu, Wu Yuanheng, and Chang Ning sat around a table, chatting and laughing. The Three Departments often held casual gatherings like this to strengthen bonds—similar to modern team-building.

Chang Ning had originally come hoping to see Hua Mulan, but upon arrival learned from Li and Wu that she was absent.

Picking up a piece of goose meat then setting it down, she pouted unhappily, “Where did Sister Mulan go? When will she be back?”

“No her, who’s going to play polo with me!”

Li Shu smiled and replied, “Mulan left just a few days ago, only said a brief goodbye. We don’t know when she’ll return.”

“Fine, fine!” Chang Ning rested her chin on her delicate hand, lips puckered.

Bored, she tapped the dish in front of her with chopsticks, then suddenly brightened, eyes sparkling, “Last time when we ate here, Chen Chang’an and Ye Lin were here too. Let’s invite them over—more the merrier!”

“Alright, Princess!”

Li Shu immediately ordered a servant, “Go, summon Ye Lin and Chen Chang’an as the princess requested!”

At first, he and Wu Yuanheng had similar plans, but since both were now Wuying Guard members, they hesitated due to official constraints. Now that the princess herself requested, there was no need for restraint.

About half an hour later, the servant returned, looking troubled and hesitatingly said, “Princess, Master Li, Master Wu, Ye Lin is not coming, and… Chen… Chen Chang’an…”

“What happened to Chen Chang’an?” Chang Ning asked, hands on hips, cheeks puffed round.

The servant adjusted his tone to utmost sadness, as if he had lost his own father: “Chen Chang’an… is dead!”

“W-what?” Chang Ning jumped up abruptly.

Clatter! Wu Yuanheng dropped his teacup without noticing.

Li Shu’s lips trembled as he stammered, “Chen… Chen Chang’an is dead?”

“No… no… it can’t be!”

As a member of the exalted royal bloodline, Chang Ning lost control entirely—her pain was primal, subconscious, and perhaps even unnoticed by herself.

“Dead… dead!”

Li Shu and Wu Yuanheng’s faces instantly turned cold; before Cao Wu, they had been the earliest admirers of Chen Chang’an, having shared many experiences and developed a strange camaraderie.

Now the news struck them like a blow, leaving them desolate.

“I must go to the Su family!” Wu Yuanheng resolutely tore off the apron he had worn to protect his clothes from oil stains and strode out decisively.

“What are you doing?” Li Shu spread his arms to block him.

Wu Yuanheng turned, glancing at the anxiously stomping Chang Ning, then stunned her into unconsciousness with a finger before facing Li Shu again, asking solemnly, “You know why I’m going, don’t you?”

“But… you’ll die if you do!” Li Shu shouted.

Wu Yuanheng was silent for a moment, then met Li Shu’s gaze, enunciating sharply, “You and I have both witnessed Chen Chang’an’s talent. He rose from an ordinary person to a second-rank soul cultivator in less than a month. Such potential is limitless.”

“As for me, I’ve lived long enough.”

“You…”

Before Li Shu could speak, Wu Yuanheng waved him off with a smile. “The world calls me a martial arts failure—half my life of cultivation and no awakened primal technique—but they don’t know I possess a ‘Rebirth from the Past Life’ technique unseen for centuries!”

“This is destined to remain a secret.”

Li Shu scowled. “But I know.”

Wu Yuanheng nodded. “So you’re trying to stop me.”

Pausing, his tone shifted sharply: “Li Shu, do you love Chang’an City? The street vendors around dawn, the fresh, steaming buns from Glutton Street, the hustle and bustle of the 108 workshops…”

“Chen Chang’an will surely become someone useful to the city. As long as he lives, it’s worth more than my old bones dying!”

Patting Li Shu’s shoulder gently, Wu Yuanheng cleared his throat, “Alright, send the princess back to her residence. I’m going to change Chen Chang’an’s fate!”

With that, the stout middle-aged man, whose broad frame took up the space of two when walking, sleeping, or squatting, swayed his thick waist as he left the room, descended the stairs, and exited Tianxiang Garden.

He was heading to… the Su family estate!

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