Hearing everything from Wu Ruolan made Wu Zhanfeng’s anger burn hotter. As she spoke, he watched her closely, studying every flicker of expression, every shift in her tone. And he saw it clearly—she did not fully understand what she had done wrong. Instead, he caught a faint echo of the arrogance of the Radiant Cloud Sect’s Young Sect Leader in her eyes, the same pride that had grown around her since she entered that great sect.

  After she finished the whole story, Wu Zhanfeng finally understood how Wang Tian and the Wang Family must have felt. He clenched his fists weakly against the bed sheets, torn between fury and helplessness. If he were in good health, he would have gone to the Wang Family by now, explained everything, calmed them, and tried to reconcile. But his body refused to obey. He could barely move. That helplessness made him feel useless, and a deep sadness settled over his heart.

  For a long while, Wu Zhanfeng said nothing. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. Then, slowly, he opened his mouth and spoke, his voice trembling with anger.

  “Do you even know what you have done, Young Sect Leader of Radiant Cloud Sect?” he snapped, deliberately avoiding her name. He did not call her “Ruolan.” He called her by the title she wore in the sect, as if to remind her that everything she had done was shaped by the arrogance and self?esteem she had developed there.

  Wu Ruolan froze. The way her father addressed her struck her like a sudden slap. It felt as if something she had always taken for granted had been ripped away from her—something she had carried since childhood. In that instant, she understood what she had lost: her father’s warmth, his unconditional trust, the gentle way he used to look at her.

  She opened her mouth, instinctively wanting to call out, “Father—” but Wu Zhanfeng cut her off.

  “Don’t call me that from now on,” he said, his voice low and heavy with sorrow and anger. “I don’t have the qualification to make you call me like that.” Those words were not only meant to punish Wu Ruolan—they were also a punishment to himself, a confession of his own failure as a father.

  The words stabbed through Wu Ruolan’s heart like a cold blade. From childhood, she had been her father’s favorite, and he had been her most beloved parent. Now, that bond felt like it had shattered in an instant, as fragile as a dream dissolving at dawn. She did not know what to do, how to soothe him, how to mend what she had broken.

  Then, a stubborn thought rose in her chest. She lifted her head and said, her voice trembling but defiant, “Why are you being like this to me? Maybe the way I broke the engagement was wrong, but breaking it was still the right decision. That Wang family is just a small clan in an unknown city. Your so?called brother has disappeared long ago, and Wang Jian is nothing more than a crippled, sick man. A genius like me doesn’t deserve to be tied to someone like him. So I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  Her words poured out, each one sharpened by pride and fear. But the moment they left her lips, Wu Zhanfeng’s face twisted in fury. He coughed violently, blood spraying from his mouth—more than before. His body shook, and he shouted, his voice raw and broken.

  “Get out! Get out from my sight! From now on, don’t say that I’m your father, and I don’t have a daughter like you—” His words choked off as his strength gave out. His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed into unconsciousness.

  Li Mo, his personal servant, sprang into action. He quickly forced a high?quality healing pill into Wu Zhanfeng’s mouth. The patriarch’s breathing slowly steadied, his condition stabilizing, though he remained asleep.

  Wu Ruolan and Elder Wu Sheng stood frozen, not daring to speak. They waited in silence for a long time, until they saw Wu Zhanfeng’s chest rise and fall evenly, his breathing deep and steady. Only then did they feel a faint relief. Li Mo gestured for them to leave the room.

  As they stepped outside, a woman came rushing toward them, her face pale with worry. It was Lan Xuan, Wu Ruolan’s mother and Wu Zhanfeng’s wife.

  “Ruolan,” she asked urgently, “how is your father?”

  Wu Ruolan could not bring herself to answer. Lan Xuan turned to Li Mo, the man she always called “Uncle Li.”

  “Uncle Li, what happened? How is he now?” she asked, her voice tight with fear.

  Li Mo bowed his head slightly, his tone respectful. “Madam, the Patriarch is all right. He is sleeping now. If you wish, you may go in and stay with him. Tonight, I will watch over him.”

  Li Mo was no ordinary servant. His full name was Li Mo, and he had been saved by the previous Patriarch of the Wu Family, raised under his care, and had stood by Wu Zhanfeng’s side ever since. He was much older than Wu Zhanfeng himself and Li Mo was a Dragon Transformation Realm cultivator—strong enough to become an elder in any sect, yet he had chosen to remain loyal to the Wu Family, especially to Wu Zhanfeng. When the previous Patriarch died, Li Mo had sworn to protect his son at any cost. Wu Zhanfeng, in turn, had never treated him as a mere servant, but as a father figure. The entire Wu Family followed his example, showing Li Mo the deepest respect.

  Meanwhile Lan Xiao, because of Wu Zhanfeng’s poor health, Lan Xuan had taken over the family’s daily affairs. When she learned what Wu Ruolan had done, she was furious and scolded her daughter harshly—but she did not go as far as Wu Zhanfeng had.

  After speaking with Li Mo, Lan Xuan entered the room and sat by her husband’s bedside, staying there in silence. Meanwhile, Li Mo, Wu Ruolan, and Elder Wu Sheng moved to the backyard to talk.

  None of them spoke on the way. When they reached the stone table in the courtyard, they sat down. Li Mo ordered a servant to bring tea. The servant returned quickly, and Li Mo poured three cups, one for each of them.

  For a while, the only sound was the soft clink of cups against stone. Then Elder Wu Sheng broke the silence.

  “Uncle Li,” he said, his voice low and troubled, “what should we do now? Is there any way to calm my brother? He went too far in scolding Ruolan.”

  Li Mo took a slow sip of tea, his expression calm but heavy. “I expected this,” he said. “But there is nothing we can do now.”

  Wu Ruolan, sitting beside them, suddenly burst into tears. The dam of her pride finally broke, and grief poured out. Li Mo set his cup down and looked at her with a mixture of sternness and pity.

  “Young miss,” he said gently but firmly, “why did you say all that nonsense just now and make your father even more angry? If you had stayed silent, we might have had a chance to calm him. But now… it’s too late.”