Ronan Yardley turned to look at her. "Mother, I’m leaving. I’m planning to head south and live in the Moonripple Kingdom in the Mortal Realm. If you ever have nowhere else to go, you can come find me."

Hearing this, Jocelyn Grant grabbed his hand, her expression urgent. "No, I forbid it."

Ronan Yardley felt a sharp pain in his hand from her tight grip. He didn’t make a sound.

It was only when Jocelyn Grant saw his face turn pale that she realized what she was doing and quickly let go. His hand was already turning a dark purple, marked with the imprints of her fingers.

Jocelyn Grant was filled with regret and heartache.

She had a Cultivation base, while Ronan Yardley was just an ordinary person who couldn’t cultivate. Even her slight grip had been unbearably painful for him. "I... I’m sorry."

"Ronan, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just overwrought for a moment. You silly child, why didn’t you say something when it hurt?"

She truly hadn’t meant to.

Her son, whom she had only just found, was about to leave her. Jocelyn Grant simply didn’t know what to do, and that was why she had gripped him so hard it hurt. Now, her own heart ached for him.

This was her biological son; how could she not cherish him? What mother in the world doesn’t love her own child?

Seeing her cry, Ronan Yardley moved his hand slightly.

"It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt."

His tone was faint, devoid of any intimacy. There was only distance.

This child had been unnervingly calm from the moment they met. The way he looked at her made Jocelyn Grant feel like she was looking at a stranger.

Seeing her son so distant, Jocelyn Grant felt a pain in her heart that made it hard to breathe. She didn’t know what to do.

’I’ve lost this son.’

That was the feeling that washed over her in that moment.

"Ronan, are you abandoning your mother?"

Ronan Yardley was silent.

’Am I the one abandoning her?’

’No.’

At this thought, Ronan Yardley looked up at Jocelyn Grant and asked, "Then, Mother, will you come with me?"

"Why don’t you understand?" Jocelyn Grant said. "The Mortal Realm has no Spiritual Energy. It’s useless for our Cultivation. Ronan, is it because you can’t cultivate that you want to go live as a commoner in the Mortal Realm? Even without the method of swapping your Spirit Root, the Cultivation World has other ways for you to grow a new one and begin cultivating. Why can’t you just listen to your mother? Your body has recovered now. If you wait for me to find some Heaven and Earth Spiritual Medicine, you’ll have your chance to start cultivating."

She said all this because she wanted her son to understand that only Cultivation offered a future. An ordinary person’s life was a brief hundred years, while a Cultivator’s lifespan could easily stretch for hundreds or even thousands of years.

Jocelyn Grant was still speaking with her son when, at that moment, someone approached from a distance using Sword Control.

It was a disciple from the Primal Heaven Sect.

The disciple’s face was fraught with urgency as he said, "This is terrible, Martial Aunt! A message came from my junior brother. They ran into Demon Cultivators! Junior Martial Uncle was injured by them, and he asks you to come at once!"

"What? Senior Brother, you have to be okay."

’I really can’t bear the blow of losing my Taoist Companion again.’

"Let’s go, quickly."

Hearing that Sean Lockwood had been injured by a Demon Cultivator, Jocelyn Grant became tense and anxious. Without another word to her son, she waved her hand, summoned her sword, and left directly via Sword Control.

As the figures of the two vanished from sight, Ronan Yardley stood rooted to the spot, somewhat stunned.

"Mother..."

he murmured.

’She just left? Like that?’ He touched the bruise on his hand.

’It’s a good thing I didn’t get my hopes up. Mother probably does love me, but there isn’t much of that love left for me.’

"So be it. I should get going, too."

Ronan Yardley touched the black bracelet on his wrist. It looked unremarkable, spotted with rust.

This was the Storage Treasure his father had left him. It had been refined to look this way because Ronan Yardley had no Cultivation. If the Magic Treasure were too conspicuous, other Cultivators might discover it, kill him, and take it for themselves.

Inside his Storage Treasure were some spiritual medicine and elixir pills, a few weapons for self-defense, a stack of talismans, and some Cultivation Resources.

The Storage Treasure and the weapons had been refined with his blood, so even without any Cultivation, he could still use them—they just wouldn’t be very effective.

The reason he had stayed here for so long was to collect the remains of his father, Liam Yardley. He had searched several places before finally finding them in a mass grave.

His father, Liam Yardley, had selfishly caused the deaths of many people, leaving countless individuals without their husbands and families. He had also turned many children, just like Ronan, into orphans. To outsiders, he was unforgivably evil, and his death was nothing to mourn. But to Ronan Yardley, everything Liam Yardley had done was for his sake. He had done those things to keep him alive, to find medicine for him.

As his son, the only thing he could do was find a place to bury him.

He touched the bracelet on his wrist.

"Father, let’s go. I’ll find a beautiful, scenic place to lay you to rest."

Glancing one last time in the direction his mother had gone, Ronan Yardley murmured, "Goodbye."

With that, he turned and walked away.

His figure was thin, but he stood tall and straight.

From this day forward, he was just another ordinary person among the countless masses of the Mortal Realm.

At that moment, from within the Barrier, Celeste Grant watched the distant figure of Jocelyn Grant’s son.

She frowned slightly and couldn’t help but complain.

"That Jocelyn Grant’s brain really is wired differently from a normal person’s. Between a man she barely knows and her own biological son... she actually ditched the son she just found to go after the man, without even leaving a single word. Is there something seriously wrong with her head?"

As a mother herself, she really couldn’t stand to see this. Even taking her son with her would have been better than just abandoning him. What kind of love could possibly make someone ignore and abandon their own child?

’Is this what they call true love?’

’But if you say she’s lovesick, she didn’t hesitate when it came to stabbing her Taoist Companion. So this is just a self-centered, self-indulgent kind of affection.’

Don’t be fooled by that kid, Ronan Yardley, acting all indifferent. The more he acts like he doesn’t care, the more it proves just how disappointed he is.

Javier Sinclair also found it hard to understand. He frowned and couldn’t help but curse, "Did that woman get her head caught in a door? Is it full of water? To just abandon a child with no Cultivation like that... One moment she’s crying and shouting about how much she missed him, how she couldn’t live without him, and how she’d make it up to him. The next, she ditches him in the blink of an eye. I’ve never seen a parent like her in all my life."

Even someone like him, a self-proclaimed cold-blooded killer who slaughtered people like flies, had only thought about how to raise his child properly when he learned he had a son.

Celeste Grant waved her hand dismissively.

"Who cares about her!"

"Forget it. He may be that woman Jocelyn Grant’s son, but let’s just spare him. What do you think?"

Javier Sinclair replied, "Whatever you say, my dear. Your husband has no objections."

"Just to be safe, I’ll place a restriction on him."

He was Jocelyn Grant’s son, after all, so it was best to take precautions. Celeste Grant brought her fingers together and directly used Magic. With a swipe in his direction, she placed a restriction on Ronan Yardley. This kind of Magic was undetectable and would not harm him.

If he never developed any killing intent toward Celeste Grant or her family, Ronan Yardley would live a peaceful life. But if he ever did, he would be plagued by illness and die an early death.

’Can’t be helped.’

’I’m the villainess, after all.’

’Doing something so underhanded is perfectly in character.’