"Elder Wanjun, have you visited the Yan family's ruins to investigate?" Jiang Chen asked.
"I have, but I found nothing—no leads, no clues at all." Yan Wanjun sighed dejectedly.
Jiang Chen turned to Huang'er. "Let's go take another look and see if we can find anything."
Huang'er naturally had no objections and nodded. "Of course!"
"I'll come too." Yan Qingsang volunteered eagerly.
"I'll join as well." Yan Wanjun had been there several times himself without finding a single clue, but he felt that if Jiang Chen took a hand, perhaps something could be uncovered. After all, this young man had a gift for working miracles.
Jiang Chen's party departed the sacred land and before long arrived at the Yan family's former headquarters. The once-grand compound had been reduced to nothing but rubble.
From a distance, the ruins looked utterly desolate. Wild grass had already begun sprouting alongside the collapsed walls and broken pillars. Clearly, after all this time, the place had fallen into complete abandonment.
Jiang Chen gazed at it from afar, his heart heavy with emotion. In its heyday, the Yan family had been a first-rate power within the Eternal Sacred Land, and this estate had been as lavish as any top-tier sect's headquarters.
Now it had become nothing more than a decrepit ruin. Every trace of its former glory had vanished like smoke.
Yan Wanjun returned to his family's ruins, and a fresh wave of grief enveloped his heart. Elder Shun walked close beside him.
The reunion between Elder Shun and his disciple Chu Xinghan should have been a joyous occasion, but the joy was tempered by the grim scene before them.
Chu Xinghan, for his part, felt relatively little about the Yan family. In fact, in his memory, the Yan family had abducted his master, Elder Shun, and he had once regarded them as his greatest enemy. So of everyone present, he was the least affected—though seeing the solemn expressions on all the others' faces, his mood was inevitably influenced as well.
No one spoke as they walked slowly through the wreckage.
Huang'er's composure held at first when she beheld the ruins, but as they ventured deeper and she saw the remains scattered everywhere—the bones, the skeletal fragments—her heart grew heavy. These people, perhaps a year or two ago, had still been living, breathing human beings. Now they were nothing but bones strewn across the ground.
She could not help but feel sorrow. After all, although the Yan family had pressured her, there had been people within it who treated her with kindness and sympathy. People who had been decent to her in their daily interactions.
Yan Qingsang was grinding his teeth, muttering curses now and then—his fury was clearly immense. He may have had all manner of grievances against the family, but that did not mean he felt no grief or rage after its destruction.
Suddenly, Yan Qingsang stopped before a pile of bones, bent down, and picked up a pendant.
"This is Brother Zhenhuai's pendant… he too…" Yan Qingsang's voice was thick with sorrow. In all honesty, among the Yan family's younger generation, the only person he had truly admired was Yan Zhenhuai.
And Yan Zhenhuai had always treated him fairly, never singling him out the way Yan Jinnan and his ilk did whenever they got the chance.
For that reason, Yan Qingsang had always held Yan Zhenhuai in genuine respect and goodwill. Now seeing Yan Zhenhuai's pendant still hanging from the neck of these bones—it meant that even a talent of Yan Zhenhuai's caliber had not survived this catastrophe. The realization made Yan Qingsang's heart ache unbearably.
Jiang Chen had also held a favorable impression of Yan Zhenhuai, and seeing that he too had been reduced to a skeleton, he could not help but feel a pang of melancholy.