Chapter 45: Alliance, what do you want to do?

“What do you want to do?”

Mo Qin tilted his head slightly.

“I’ll help as much as I can.”

“Help me get connected with the Lang Family.”

Mo Qin’s gaze swept over him coldly, sharp beneath the surface.

“Why are you looking for the Lang Family?”

“Revenge.”

“Quite a coincidence. I have some scores to settle with the Lang Family too.”

Mo Qin narrowed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if exhaling all the malice lodged inside him.

“What’s your plan?”

Lang Junxian briefly explained his strategy.

Among Shangjing’s three top noble families, the Lang Family ranked lowest—not only because of insufficient family heritage but also due to their weak combat power, especially this generation.

Their heirs were mediocre at best; hardly anyone stood out.

In such a precarious situation, the Lang Family’s Jiachu was bound to be eager to cultivate a new successor.

Lang Junxian was the biggest wildcard.

The child thought dead years ago had returned, with talent and cultivation far surpassing his peers, even earning respect from those reclusive old masters. In the eyes of the Lang Family Jiachu, Lang Junxian was nothing less than a savior.

What Lang Junxian lacked was the perfect chance to stage a flawless encounter.

Mo Qin just happened to have that opportunity.

“The seventh day of next month is my Successor Ceremony. The Lang Family will attend.”

Lang Junxian smiled playfully.

“You’ve changed quite a bit.”

“People always change.”

Mo Qin said indifferently, his broad palm gently covering the snow-white rabbit.

After setting the date for their next meeting, the two parted ways quickly.

When they met again, the plan would be underway.

Bai Maomao sat listlessly in the passenger seat. Lang Junxian leaned over to fasten his seatbelt and rubbed his messy fur.

“Not happy?”

Bai Maomao shook his head.

“Just feels like everyone’s changing so fast.”

Lang Junxian chuckled softly.

“People always change. You just need to know that I won’t.”

Bai Maomao nodded heavily, eyes sparkling as he stared at him.

After a moment’s thought, he couldn’t help but ask, “Do you think…that rabbit is really Yan Miao?”

Lang Junxian understood what he meant.

They had seen Yan Miao stop breathing with their own eyes, yet Mo Qin claimed he wasn’t dead and now cherished a rabbit that looked exactly like him.

“What do you think?”

Bai Maomao pondered.

“I feel like there’s something familiar about his aura, but it’s not quite the same…”

“Fool.”

Lang Junxian tapped his forehead lightly.

“That really is Yan Miao. Didn’t you notice the deep scar on his back?”

When Mo Qin brought the rabbit in, Lang Junxian had observed carefully.

The rabbit was well cared for—plump and smooth fur perfectly covering the hideous scar.

Most wouldn’t notice, but Lang Junxian’s keen eyes caught the subtle difference immediately.

“Then why doesn’t he recognize us? And Mo Qin too…”

“The Secret Art of Resurrection always demands a price.”

Lang Junxian looked at him seriously.

“Look beneath Mo Qin’s skin. That’s the price he’s paying.”

By using his own flesh and blood as a vessel to perform the secret art, not only did he revive Yan Miao, but Mo Qin’s cultivation soared.

However, the art also backfired on him, leaving a malignant consequence—the Blood Gu alive within his body.

It was the price Mo Qin chose.

Bai Maomao nodded solemnly.

Thinking of the writhing creatures under Mo Qin’s skin sent chills down his spine.

The endless torment of the Blood Gu gnawing at his heart day and night explained why Mo Qin’s emotions were so volatile.

After returning home and making thorough preparations, the seventh day arrived quickly.

The head of the Mo Family had stepped down, passing the Jiachu position to his son while devoting himself to pursuing the Tiandi Dadao.

Officially, that was the family’s statement, but the true reasons were known only to those involved.

Mo Qin spread his arms, letting the designer dress him in a tailored suit.

His mid-length hair was slicked back with heavy pomade, revealing a smooth forehead.

“Mr. Mo will surely stun all the ladies attending today.”

Mo Qin curled the corner of his lips as he looked at the unfamiliar figure in the mirror.

His pale skin contrasted with his thin, light-colored lips, making his complexion seem even more ghostly. T

all and slender, the vintage suit fit his emaciated frame perfectly, like a nobleman from the medieval era.

The white rabbit lying on the cushioned seat stared blankly at Mo Qin, its big black eyes dull.

Occasionally, the eyes shifted, revealing a spark of life.

“Do you like it?”

Mo Qin poked the rabbit’s forehead.

It remained blank.

“That means you do.”

Mo Qin bent down to press a kiss on its forehead, then scooped it up and headed toward the venue.

Today was the day he formally faced the noble families of Shangjing.

From now on, he was no longer a dispensable heir of the Mo Family, incapable even of protecting the one he loved.

He would be the rightful Jiachu of the Mo Family, and everything belonging to the Mo Family would be offered at Miao Miao’s feet.

Guests at the venue gathered in small groups, chatting quietly.

Mo Qin’s arrival instantly silenced the hall.

His indifferent gaze scanned the crowd before he strode to the microphone.

“Thank you all for attending my Successor Ceremony today.”

“From now on, I am the Jiachu of the Mo Family,” Mo Qin said, looking around at the various expressions.

“I hope everyone here acknowledges this fact.”

Many attendees were powerful cultivators or held noble status.

They resented Mo Qin’s arrogance and cast increasingly hostile glances at him.

Mo Qin paid them no mind.

He smiled faintly, extended one hand forward as if gripping something invisible.

“To those who can’t face reality, don’t blame me for not respecting elders.”

His hand slowly opened, revealing a small, transparent, inconspicuous insect resting quietly in his palm.

Its folded wings twitched slightly, sensing external pressure and preparing to fly.

Some guests recognized it and took several steps back in shock, hiding behind others to calm themselves.

“Mo, what do you mean by this?”

Ji Junming, the most powerful voice besides the Lang Family, spoke up.

“Nothing in particular. Just got myself a little toy to show everyone.”

“What is that?”

Bai Maomao asked curiously.

“If I’m not mistaken, that’s a Voidfire Seed.”

“Voidfire Seed?”

Bai Maomao frowned.

“Isn’t it just an insect?”

Lang Junxian shook his head and patiently explained.

The Voidfire Seed resembles a beetle in appearance, but in truth, it’s a flame spirit—a fire elemental with consciousness.

No one knows its origin. Records say it comes from the frigid wastelands, its body like glazed glass, emitting a cold aura.

It wanders the frozen lands and rarely attacks unless touched—then death is certain.

The Voidfire Seed is extremely rare.

No one has ever successfully captured one whole.

Though not a living creature in the traditional sense, it belongs to the realm’s spiritual entities.

Many seek it, but few succeed.

“No wonder,” Lang Junxian said with a smile.

“No wonder Mo dares to be so arrogant. With a spirit fire in hand, few would want to challenge him. Even those old bastards would have to think twice.”

Though unassuming in appearance, the Voidfire Seed feeds on spiritual energy.

While drifting harmlessly in the world, it clings fiercely to any human it touches, draining their inner reserves of energy without release.

Cultivators rely on the spiritual power stored in their Qi Sea and Dantian.

If that power is drained, the consequences are dire.

Lang Junxian’s eyes narrowed, his mood bright.

Their ally seemed extremely reliable.

He raised a cup of wine and took Bai Maomao’s hand, walking over.

Mo Qin lounged casually on the sofa, the little rabbit carefully resting on his lap.

He was feeding it a plump, juicy strawberry.

A group of young women sat nearby, eyes full of subtle admiration.

Mo Qin had become the Jiachu at a young age, with a limitless future.

Coupled with his fragile nobleman appearance, he was popular among girls.