Chapter 117
As Wen Xin had predicted, the factions didn’t even wait until they returned to their respective territories. Barely beyond the borders of City G, they began mobilizing additional personnel to launch large-scale investigations into his identity.
On that fateful day, Wen Xin had taken center stage on the battlefield. With so many eyes watching, it was impossible for him to entirely conceal his tracks.
It wasn’t long before nearly every faction leader came to know the truth: the man who rode atop the colossal black beast was Wen Xin.
And who in this war-torn world hadn’t heard of Wen Xin?
Not long ago, a single bounty notice in the markets had sparked a nationwide manhunt. The fervor of that event was not something easily forgotten.
These factions now faced a dilemma. Wen Xin, with his established connections spanning the Eastern and Western regions, was clearly not someone they could afford to move against recklessly.
Unable to directly target Wen Xin, the factions shifted their focus. If they couldn’t go after him, they could certainly go after those around him.
Whispers spread like wildfire, tensions brewing beneath the surface.
But before anyone could act, news broke that Wen Jinfeng had attempted to return to City G to appeal to Wen Xin through familial ties—only to nearly be killed by a lightning strike.
The revelation caused an uproar.
It seemed almost too coincidental! Just as the factions were plotting to use Wen Jinfeng to rein in Wen Xin, the brothers publicly announced a falling out.
Further investigations revealed the rift between the two brothers wasn’t new.
Details emerged: Wen Jinfeng had blamed their mother’s death entirely on Wen Xin. After their father’s passing, his disdain and neglect only worsened. Wen Xin, still a child, had been left in the care of nannies and housekeepers, with Wen Jinfeng barely sparing him a glance so long as he was alive.
When Wen Jinfeng graduated high school, he left home for good. Wen Xin wasn’t one to back down either—he packed his bags and left as well. For years, they didn’t speak to one another.
Then came the apocalypse. Wen Jinfeng didn’t send a military unit to retrieve Wen Xin; instead, he hastily hired a team of mercenaries.
When Wen Xin finally made it to City A after countless hardships, he was largely ignored. Some even claimed Wen Xin’s capture by the Idealism Sect was partly due to Wen Jinfeng’s indifference.
While rumors outside swirled like a storm, the small room where the brothers now stayed was cozy and warm, heated by a crackling charcoal fire. A cool breeze drifted through the window, rustling the dry leaves outside.
Wen Xin approached, carrying a mug of hot water, and found Wen Jinfeng seated in a wheelchair.
The man was wrapped in layers of white bandages, leaving only half his face and his fingers exposed. He was poring over a stack of reports, his expression unreadable.
Hearing footsteps, Wen Jinfeng didn’t look up. “Put the coffee on the side. I’ll drink it later.”
Instead, Wen Xin plucked the documents from his hands.
Wen Jinfeng raised his head, surprised, and met Wen Xin’s disapproving gaze. The youth sighed, a hint of amusement in his smile. “No coffee—just water. You’re leaving tomorrow. If you drink coffee now, do you plan to sleep tonight? Take a break for once.”
He shook the reports playfully and began skimming through them himself. “Your people are efficient. It looks like most factions believe we’ve officially severed ties.”
The details in the reports weren’t leaked accidentally. If Wen Jinfeng hadn’t deliberately allowed the information to surface, how else would others have found it?
Wen Jinfeng frowned, displeased with Wen Xin’s audacity in switching out his coffee. “You’re getting bold. Now give that back.”
Ignoring him, Wen Xin sat down on a chair nearby.
The chair let out a loud creak, protesting under the weight.
To call the chair “sturdy” would be generous. One of its legs had broken off and been repaired with a makeshift wooden stick tied on with layers of rope. It was a miracle the chair still stood.
In City G’s current state of ruin, such a chair was practically a luxury.
When Wen Xin first dragged the scrap back with a triumphant grin, Wen Jinfeng had nearly snapped. He’d immediately ordered Li Yongming to raid the nearest trade market for proper furniture and building materials.
Wen Xin had hurriedly stopped him.
“If we’re putting on a show, we need to commit to it. Aside from your injuries requiring you to stay in City G for two days, we can’t appear to have too much interaction.”
When Wen Xin didn’t respond to his earlier demand, Wen Jinfeng glanced toward the doorway, noticing the guards had been sent away. Smirking faintly, he picked up the cup from the table.
The warm water slid down his throat, carrying a sweetness that lingered on his tongue.
Wen Jinfeng’s expression turned odd. He looked at Wen Xin, trying to maintain his composure, and took another sip before commenting casually, “You even managed to find honey in City G? Impressive.”
“I’ve heard honey helps with burns, but I always thought that was just some cheap marketing ploy.”
“What?” Wen Xin looked up, confused for a moment, then shook his head. “No. City G’s been abandoned for months. Between the bombardments and the heat, all the refrigeration systems are long gone. Even if there was honey, it would’ve spoiled by now. What you’re drinking came from someone else.”
Wen Jinfeng’s hand froze mid-motion.
But his thick-skinned nature prevailed. The fleeting embarrassment barely lingered in his mind before he brushed it aside as irrelevant and focused on Wen Xin’s last comment.
“‘Someone else’?”
Wen Xin hummed in acknowledgment. “The Idealism Sect in City B, the Eastern region’s Central City, the Free Army from the borderlands, Rose City in the West, the third, fourth, sixth, and seventh survivor bases, and a few legion commanders from the South Seas… Too many to count.”
Understanding dawned on Wen Jinfeng. “Makes sense. To outsiders, you now control a resource for evolution. Of course, they’d trip over themselves trying to curry favor.”
Wen Xin neither confirmed nor denied it.
When he first encountered such overtures, he’d agonized over how to respond. Eventually, he decided not to respond at all, returning every gift save for the food and supplies sent by familiar allies.
Wen Jinfeng nodded. “You hold the upper hand. Even if you reject them, they can only swallow their pride.”
He then shifted the conversation to Wen Xin’s plans, launching into a series of discussions about City G’s future development and the associated risks.
Wen Xin couldn’t help but notice his brother’s efficiency. Barely three sentences in, and the conversation had veered into business.
After observing him quietly for a moment, Wen Xin voiced a thought. “Brother, do you never talk to me because you don’t know what to say?”
Wen Jinfeng paused, his words faltering for a moment before he regained his usual composure. Leaning back in his chair, he replied, “You’re overthinking it. I just don’t see the point in wasting time on trivial chatter given our current situation.”
Wen Xin suddenly felt he’d uncovered the real reason his brother had ignored him so much as a child. He couldn’t help but feel both amused and exasperated.
Wen Xin glanced at the intelligence report in his hand and, as if struck by a thought, clenched his fingers lightly.
“Brother.”
“Hmm?”
“What kind of person was our mother?”
Wen Jinfeng instinctively tried to deflect. “Why are you asking about that?”
“When I was young, people told me that Mother died in childbirth because of me. That you and Father didn’t like me because of it.”
The words hit like a thunderclap in a still sky. Wen Jinfeng’s expression turned icy, his gaze sharpening to a razor’s edge. “Who? Who told you that?”
Wen Xin thought for a moment before shaking his head with a faint, rueful smile. “It’s been too long; I can’t remember. But I feel like it wasn’t just one person.”
“No matter what I was doing—eating, flipping through a dictionary, playing games, drinking water, or lying in bed before sleep—I’d hear the same things over and over.”
Even hearing about it was suffocating.
Back then, how old had Wen Xin been? Three? Four?
How many years had he endured such cruel, soul-crushing words? And over time, had he come to believe that he was responsible for his mother’s death?
Wen Jinfeng’s face tightened with anger, his eyes blazing with a fury that seemed to burn through everything in their path.
It took him a long time to calm himself enough to speak. “…I think I remember something.”
“One weekend, I came home and found all the servants being dismissed. Even the old housekeeper, who was over sixty, was packing his things. When I asked Father about it, he simply said they’d been dismissed for misconduct and told me not to worry about it.”
After that, the Wen household never hired any more nannies or maids. Wen Jinfeng, a boarding school student at the time, was kept close to their ailing father, who busied him with learning the ins and outs of the family business. The mansion became eerily quiet.
In that oppressive silence, Wen Xin—once a bright, cheerful boy who would carry potted plants and call for his brother with a wide grin—became withdrawn and taciturn.
Wen Jinfeng pressed his fingers hard against his temples, trying to piece together the events of the past.
The whole situation felt odd in hindsight. The old housekeeper had been with the Wen family for nearly three decades, practically a member of the family. Who could have persuaded him to leave?
Would someone really go to such lengths just to weigh down a young child with guilt, making him feel insecure and overly sensitive?
Compared to the tumultuous years that followed, that period had seemed peaceful. Their father had still been alive, Wen Xin had been innocent and endearing, and Wen Jinfeng had often taken out old photos in quiet moments to reminisce about the sweetness preserved in those sepia-toned memories.
His absolute trust in their father had kept him from questioning the past.
But now, Wen Xin had laid bare a hidden truth, shattering the rosy filter Wen Jinfeng had placed over those years.
Seeing the shock and anger on Wen Jinfeng’s face, Wen Xin knew his brother had been unaware of the situation. The weight on his heart eased slightly.
“It’s my fault,” Wen Jinfeng murmured, his voice low. “When Father said it wasn’t a problem, I should have pressed him further… damn it!”
He let his hand fall, clearly shaken by the revelation.
Wen Xin shook his head and met his brother’s gaze directly. His voice was soft, yet steady. “I still have some memories of Father, but of Mother… I have none. Was it really because of me that she…”
As he spoke, Wen Xin’s hands clasped tightly together, his grip betraying a rare tension. He faltered before finishing the sentence, unable to voice the question completely.
He had carried this question in his heart for over twenty years.
For two decades, the wound had festered, scar tissue intertwining with barbs of self-blame. Every word he now spoke felt like tearing open that old wound, exposing the pus and pain beneath.
Wen Jinfeng’s response was swift and decisive. “No!”
He turned sharply to face Wen Xin, his voice faltering slightly as he continued, “Don’t overthink it. Back then… I did resent you. I won’t deny it.”
The fact was that their mother had indeed died from complications during childbirth. After becoming pregnant with Wen Xin, her health had deteriorated significantly. She grew listless and unfocused, narrowly avoiding several accidents. Her physical condition weakened steadily thereafter.
But Wen Jinfeng remembered her placing a hand on her growing belly, smiling gently as she said to him, “Do you know, Jinfeng? Your little brother saved my life.”
