Outside where the Chu family members had the Jinhai Military Hospital surrounded, it looked like a regular warzone. The Chu family bodyguards and the senior disciples of the White Crane Sect faced off against the Mo family guards, neither giving an inch.
Despite the tense standoff, the Old Master Chu Minguyan stood slumped next to the black Maybach he rode in. His immaculate robes were stained with dust and dried blood. His son Chu Zhenhua fared no better. His jacket was gone and his pristine branded shirt was ripped open at the collar. Blood had stiffened his hair at the temple, but his eyes burned with something stronger than pain — disbelief and hope.
He kept reliving the fight he had watched in the Dragon Gate Arena. When his father had shown him the 'mysterious fighter girl' video and asked him to come to Dragon Gate, he had had reasonable doubt. But it was still more yearning and wishing for it to be true than anything else. After the witnessing the fight, he was more optimistic he had been in years. When the girl had walked on to that stage, he had been struck by the portion of her face that had been visible. The sharp chin, the curve of that jaw, that straight nose… her profile was exactly like that of his late wife. And then, she had started fighting. It was like watching a phantom rise from the dead. She had fought exactly like how his qing'er had fought in those days… the precision, the power, the grace; they were uncannily similar. And just when he thought they were out of surprises for the night, they had seen that plum blossom mark on her collarbone.
Chu Zhenhua's breath hitched as he pressed his palm against his chest, right above his collarbone. Beneath the grime and blood, the familiar raised pattern throbbed faintly — a five-petaled plum blossom birthmark, the ancient crest of their bloodline.
"She had it," he whispered, more to himself than to anyone. "The same mark… under the right collarbone. Exactly the same."
He looked up at his father, eyes shining with a mix of disbelief and awe. "Father, every generation of the main branch bears this mark. You have it. I have it. All four of my sons have it. And Yue'er—" his voice broke on his late wife's name. Our daughter had it when she was born. I remember holding her for the first time, and Yue'er laughing through her tears because the mark was brighter than any of ours."
He drew a shuddering breath, his fingers curling into fists. "I saw that same mark tonight, Father. On the girl they called XL." His voice trembled with something he had not dared feel in fifteen years — hope. "I am certain. I am almost certain it's her."
Old Master Chu Mingyuan studied him silently, his lined face unreadable. The lamplight cast deep shadows beneath his eyes.
"Zhenhua," he said at last, voice slow and deliberate, "we have been wrong before. Hope is a dangerous thing when you have lost as much as we have."
"I know," Zhenhua replied quickly, stepping forward. "But this time—this time it's not just rumor or hearsay. I saw her, Father. The mark, her stance, her internal strength… even the way she used the Jade Cicada Spiral. No one outside our bloodline could have learned that form. And she's so young—fifteen, sixteen, maybe seventeen. It fits perfectly with her age."
Old Master Chu's hand trembled slightly against his cane. "If what you say is true…"
"Then Yue'er's child is alive," Zhenhua finished for him, his voice raw. "Alive, Father. After all these years. I am certain."
Silence fell between them, heavy and fragile. The old patriarch closed his eyes for a long moment, as if offering a silent prayer to whatever powers still listened. When he spoke again, his tone carried both command and caution.
"I agree with you, For the first time in years, my mind wants to throw caution to the wind and claim our little princess. But First, we must confirm it." He paused, then added, "We also need to inform the Su family."
Zhenhua nodded slowly. The Su family. The name carried a weight of history and guilt. "Yes. They deserve to know. Wanqing's family has waited for fifteen years too."
"I will call Su Tianhong" said the old master quietly. "He deserves to know this from me. As for you, you call that Mo family boy. Tell him we are entering in ten minutes whether he likes it or not"
Zhenhua bowed, his face grim but with eyes shining with eagerness. He was going to meet his little girl!
The Su Family Estate, Capital City
The Su family had stood at the heart of the capital for centuries — their estate a sprawling relic of the empire's golden age.
Latticed corridors opened into tranquil courtyards; ancient pines bent over moonlit ponds where koi swam beneath floating lanterns. Even now, when dynasties had long fallen and republics risen, the Su family remained synonymous with cultivation and grace.
They were one of the Five Great Houses of the Capital — the Mo, Chu, Su, Jiang, and Wei families. Each bore a distinct legacy.
The Mo and Chu lines were born of the sword — descendants of imperial generals and commanders of the old royal guard. The Jiang family were industrialists, turning steel and infrastructure into empires of wealth, while the Wei family's influence spread through medicine and scientific research. The Su family, by contrast, came from the ink and scroll — the line of imperial tutors and court scholars. Their forefathers had once guided princes, written state edicts, and built the foundations of law and learning.
Even after the fall of the monarchy, these great families continued to wield immense influence through the modern versions of the institutions they once shaped. Some, like the Mo and Chu clans, expanded beyond their traditional callings and built vast business empires. Yet their roots in their ancestral domains of power remained unshakable — their voices still carried weight in the military, politics, and commerce alike. Together, these five houses formed the invisible web that still quietly shaped the capital.
For the Su family, however, many things had changed since that day they had lost their only beloved daughter Su Wanqing. Su Wanqing had been their shining gem, the pearl in their palms who had a genius mind and could ace anything she learned. Despite their misgivings, the Su family had let her become part of the Chu family's White Crane sect, and later had given in to her heart and married her into the Chu family with great pomp and splendor. It had been a powerful union – the gem of the Su family with the mighty young master of the Chu family and that had inevitably drawn scheming and hatred. In one stroke, not only had they lost their beloved daughter, but also their lovely granddaughter whom they had cherished.
The loss had shaken their bond with the Chu family. Despite their love for their grandsons whom they still cherished; they could not get over the hurdle in their heart. Their in-laws had failed their daughter, and they couldn't' forgive them for it. Since that day, they had retreated from the limelight. Although they still had immense power and wealth, they took a backseat to protect all they had left. They let smaller families like the Chen family rise and secretly mourned their daughter. Their Su family forces also diligently followed every clue to track their granddaughter whom they were desperate to bring back.
Old master Su Tianhong, the patriarch of the Su family, sat alone in his study perusing their forces' latest report on the search for their granddaughter. Scrolls of ancient poetry lined the shelves. An ancestral painting of Su Zhongwen, the first imperial tutor, hung behind him — its brushwork austere, its presence a silent reminder of duty.
Across from him, his assistant placed a small jade token on the desk. The seal engraved on it caught the lamplight — the White Crane of the Chu family.
"A message from Old Master Chu, sir," the assistant said quietly. "It came today through their personal courier."
Tianhong's hand stilled over the open letter he'd been reviewing. For a long moment, he didn't move. Then, with deliberate calm, he reached for the token.
"Leave us," he said.
When the door closed, the old patriarch broke the Chu family's seal and unfolded the letter. The calligraphy was spare, every stroke heavy with meaning.
We believe we have found her.
Alive.
Confirmation pending. I will send word once certainty is reached.
Prepare yourselves.
— Chu Mingyuan.
For several seconds, Su Tianhong's mind went completely blank. He could not believe what he had read. He remembered Wanqing's laughter, her stubborn streak, the way she had once teased him for being too serious. He remembered the baby's tiny plum blossom birthmark — and how Wanqing had written in a letter that the little girl had also inherited the Su family's distinct genius.
His throat tightened.
"Alive…" he whispered, the word trembling as if it might shatter. Hurriedly, he reached out to call the Chu family to confirm and right on cue, he received Chu Mingyuan's call. It had been a decade since they had directly spoken. He reached out a trembling hand.
"What news?" His voice was gravelly, and he was barely holding on. Pleasantries were beyond him.
Chu Mingyuan paused. His personal courier should have reached and Su Tianhong seemed as moved as he had expected. Without further ado, he got directly to the point. "We spotted her in the Dragon Gate Championship. She moves exactly like Qian'er and even has the plum blossom mark"
Su Tianhong's vision tunneled. She moves like Qian'er and had the plum blossom mark. It had to be her. It had to be their missing granddaughter.
"Where?" he asked tremblingly.
"In Jinhai city. We are waiting to confirm"
"We will be right over" said Su Tianhong decisively.
"We don't know for sure yet, old friend. Maybe we lay low…"
"We have been laying low for 15 years Old Chu. Now that there is finally a solid lead, it is time to act. Don't tell me to lay low anymore. We Su family are done waiting. I will call you when we get to Jinhai."
Su Tianhong hung up the call and sat down heavily in the chair. They were finally on to something!
Outside, the sound of footsteps approached. His wife, Old Madam Su Wei Lanyue, opened the door slightly. Her face, though still refined, bore the quiet erosion of years of grief.
"Tianhong?" she asked softly. "You're still awake? It's past midnight."
He looked up. For a moment, words failed him. Then he held out the letter with shaking hands.
Lanyue read it once — twice — before her breath caught audibly. "Alive?" she repeated, barely above a whisper. Her fingers tightened around the paper until it crinkled. "Our Wanqing's child?"
Tianhong nodded once, his voice hoarse. "I just got off the phone with Chu Mingyuan. The girl fights like our Qing'er and has the plum blossom mark."
Tears welled in Lanyue's eyes — the first he had seen from her in over a decade. "Then she's lived… all these years…"
She pressed a hand to her heart, trying to steady her breath. "Do we know who she is?"
"No," Tianhong said quietly. "Not yet. But we will."
He turned to the window, looking out into the night. Somewhere far away — in Jinhai, perhaps — a girl with their blood was breathing under the same stars.
"Prepare our private plane," he said at last, his voice regaining its steel. "We leave for Jinhai at first light."
Lanyue nodded, her tears spilling freely now.
And for the first time in fifteen years, the Su estate, once filled with silence, came alive again — servants stirring, lights flickering awake, and an old hope rekindled beneath the crimson glow of dawn.