Journey of the Immortal’s Cultivation

05. Father’s Wrath

“You insolent child!”  

Wu Jian’s roar thundered through the ancestral hall, shaking its carved pillars as though the very foundations of the Wu estate trembled beneath his fury. The sound reverberated like a storm trapped inside stone walls, each syllable carrying the weight of humiliation and rage. His face burned crimson, veins bulging at his temples, and his eyes blazed with a fire that seemed capable of consuming everything in its path. As patriarch of the Wu family and father to Wu Tian, he had weathered countless storms of politics and rivalry, but none as shameful as the whispers now spreading like wildfire across Hu Nan.  

The scandal had traveled faster than sparks on dry tinder: the Wu family, long celebrated for producing cultivators of unmatched brilliance, harbored a son who could not cultivate at all. To Wu Jian, this was not merely disgrace—it was betrayal, a wound carved into the very pride of his lineage.  

Wu Cao had rushed Wu Tian home from Windcloud Sect, granted leave by Patriarch Mao Zhen himself, hoping to shield the boy from further humiliation. Yet as they crossed the gates of the Wu estate, the storm was already waiting. Wu Jian stood beneath the lanterns of the hall, his rage simmering, his pride wounded beyond repair.  

“Brother,” Wu Cao began cautiously, his voice low, his tone pleading, “I beg you, show leniency. Tian’er has suffered enough today.”  

Wu Tian remained silent, his head bowed, shadows cloaking his face. He knew he had erred, knew his father’s wrath was inevitable. Bitterness gnawed at him—resentment for years of neglect—but he understood this was not the moment to argue. Wu Jian’s anger was a tempest no words could calm.  

“You have disgraced our name!” Wu Jian thundered, his voice echoing like a judge’s gavel. “The Wu family, revered across the kingdom, now mocked for sheltering a failure! A disgrace!”  

Each word fell like a lash, striking Wu Tian’s heart with merciless precision. His father spoke not as a parent but as an executioner condemning a criminal.  

Wu Tian’s fists clenched, his chest burning with suppressed rage. Yet he held his tongue, unwilling to burden his uncle further. Wu Cao had already endured enough on his behalf.  

“Brother,” Wu Cao protested, his voice trembling with conviction, “no matter his flaws, Tian’er is your son. How can you call your own blood a failure?”  

But Wu Jian was immovable, a mountain of pride and fury. “I will never acknowledge a child who cannot cultivate! He is nothing but shame to our family!”  

Wu Cao’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists. He alone knew how hard Wu Tian had tried, how desperately the boy longed for his father’s recognition. He alone had seen the boy’s tears, his endless attempts to prove himself, his sleepless nights spent yearning for approval.  

Wu Tian’s love for his parents had never faltered, even as they cast him aside. He had endured years of silence, years of being treated as a ghost within his own home. And now, his attempt to join Windcloud Sect had only deepened their contempt.  

“This is not Tian’er’s fault,” Wu Cao pressed, his voice rising with urgency. “His dantian was damaged at birth. The healers struggled to deliver him, and in their failure, his meridians were broken. He was not born defective—he was made so by fate!”  

The memory was bitter. Wu Tian’s birth had been fraught with peril, the midwives frantic, the physicians helpless. When at last he was delivered, his body bore scars unseen, his cultivation crippled before it could begin.  

Yet Wu Jian had never forgiven him. From the moment of his first breath, Wu Tian had been branded a burden. His father’s affection was absent, his mother’s warmth replaced with disdain. Only Wu Cao had offered love, raising him as though he were his own son.  

Wu Tian lowered his head, sorrow pressing down like a weight. Never before had he felt the sting of his father’s words so sharply. To be rejected by strangers was one thing; to be despised by his own blood was agony beyond measure.  

“Stay out of this, Wu Cao!” Wu Jian snapped, his voice sharp as a blade. “I have tolerated this boy long enough, giving him shelter, food, a life of comfort. And how does he repay me? By dragging our name through the mud!”  

His hatred had grown. Once, he had merely dismissed Wu Tian as useless. Now, after the exposure at Windcloud Sect, his contempt had hardened into loathing. He wished he could erase the boy entirely, cast him from memory.  

Wu Tian’s voice broke through, trembling yet defiant. “Father… why are you so cruel to me?”  

Wu Jian’s eyes narrowed, his tone venomous. “Cruel? The world of cultivation is cruel! You cannot cultivate, yet you chase foolish dreams. Instead of studying literature, serving in government, you waste your days in idleness. You shame us further!”  

The tension thickened, the air heavy with hostility. Wu Cao stepped forward, desperate to defuse the storm. “Enough, Tian’er. Go wash, rest. Do not argue further.”  

Wu Tian nodded reluctantly. His uncle was right—debate was futile. His father’s heart was stone. He turned to leave.  

“Wait!”  

Wu Jian’s voice cracked like a whip. Wu Tian froze mid-step.  

“From this night forward, you will not sleep in the Wu family’s quarters. You will sleep among the servants!”  

The decree struck like a blade. Wu Cao’s eyes widened in shock. “Brother, how can you be so merciless?”  

Wu Jian’s glare silenced him. “I warned you, Cao’er. Do not interfere. This is my judgment upon that ungrateful child.”  

Wu Tian’s patience shattered. His chest heaved, his voice rising with long-suppressed fury. “I do not need you, Father. I do not need Mother. I do not need this cursed family! I will leave tonight, and I will never return!”  

Wu Jian’s laughter rang hollow, cruel. “Good! That is what I have wished for all along!”  

Wu Cao’s heart broke. “Tian’er, think carefully. Do not act in haste.” He knew his nephew’s spirit was as unyielding as his brother’s. Once resolved, he would not turn back.  

Wu Tian’s eyes blazed with determination. “I will return one day, stronger than all of you. Stronger a hundredfold. Remember my words, Father!”  

Wu Cao reached out, pleading. “Tian’er, it is night already. Where will you go? Where will you sleep?”  

But Wu Tian’s resolve was iron. He stared at Wu Jian, his gaze heavy with meaning, then turned to his uncle.  

“Let him go,” Wu Jian sneered. “I want to see where he finds this strength he boasts of.”  

Wu Cao shook his head, despair etched across his face. He watched as Wu Tian approached, his steps steady despite the weight of rejection.  

“Goodbye, Uncle Cao,” Wu Tian whispered, embracing him tightly. “Thank you for raising me, for loving me when no one else did. I will never forget your kindness.”  

Tears burned in Wu Cao’s eyes as he held the boy close. Then, Wu Tian pulled away, his figure retreating into the night, never once glancing back.  

His heart carried a single vow: to prove himself, to rise above the scorn of his parents, to surpass the Wu family itself.  

“I will not surrender because they despise me,” he murmured to himself. “I will cultivate perfection—not for them, but for me.”  

Wu Cao’s voice trembled as he called after him. “Tian’er! Where are you going?”  

Wu Tian paused, his silhouette framed against the fading light. He bowed his head toward his uncle.  

“To Forbidden Forest, Uncle.”