SS CH50

The setting sun sank in the west, casting molten gold across the sky.

Old man Ruan Feiyu had likely committed far too many sins in his life; wherever he went, dark clouds followed, making him a living target.

While one side conversed in high spirits, the other prepared the meal. Caught between them, Ye Fusheng leaned against the rickety wooden door, eyes closed as if resting. In truth, his mind spun through a thousand thoughts, digging up every scrap of information he knew about the Southern Scholar. Like a revolving lantern, he sifted through the details, attempting to deduce which faction these three belonged to.

Ruan Feiyu’s path had begun with the imperial examinations, blossomed in the Jianghu, and reached its peak in the imperial court. He could be said to have students across the land, but his enemies were equally scattered under the heavens. Some called him a sage of reform, while others deemed him a sinner intoxicated by power.

The web of grudges and rivalries he had entangled himself in was vast beyond counting—a mix of merits and faults where right and wrong were hard to distinguish, many tied directly to affairs of state. It was impossible to summarize quickly, and those who wished to send him to the lowest depths of hell were legion.

As Ye Fusheng mused, Ruan Feiyu suddenly remarked, “Looking at you, old sir, you do not seem like an ordinary farmer.”

Qin Lanshang’s heart skipped a beat, but fortunately, Lu Mingyuan had anticipated it and yanked her sleeve, keeping her from giving anything away.

The old man raised his eyes to glance at Ruan Feiyu and sighed. “I served in the military in my younger years, then retired and returned home.”

Ye Fusheng’s mind stirred, and he suddenly felt a gaze land on him. Turning his head, he saw the young girl poking her head out from the house. Catching him looking back, she hesitated and reached out a hand, but the old man turned around as well with a smile. “Xiuer, what is it?”

“G-Grandpa…” Her hand snapped back instantly, and Xiuer timidly stammered, “The… the meal is ready…”

At her words, the old man stood up, patted his trousers, and led them inside. Falling a step behind, Lu Mingyuan walked shoulder-to-shoulder with Ye Fusheng, lowering his voice: “Just now, Miss Xiuer seemed to have something to say to you.”

Ye Fusheng nodded, adopting a troubled expression. “Bright eyes and white teeth, sending subtle glances—she didn’t speak a word, yet her feelings are boundless.”

Lu Mingyuan had never met anyone so brazen and shamelessly thick-skinned. At a loss for words, he simply pulled away to distance himself for self-preservation.

The house was not large, and adding four people made it crowded. Ye Fusheng surveyed the mud-plastered, mottled walls and the spiderwebs in the corners. He watched as the old man vigorously wiped the only wooden table inside, propping a brick beneath one of its legs to grant it a precarious balance.

Xiuer and the thin man were bringing the food to the table. Looking at the filthy, chipped bowls and the fingers inadvertently dipping into the soup, Qin Lanshang lost her appetite entirely. She held her rice bowl hesitantly, unable to bring herself to dig in.

Ye Fusheng raised his chopsticks to pick up some food when he felt someone kick his foot beneath the table. He unobtrusively glanced across; Xiuer had picked up a piece of dried radish and was eating it with her porridge.

Lowering his eyelids slightly, he picked up a fried vegetable cake and dropped it into Qin Lanshang’s bowl. Completely ignoring the look she gave the bowl—as if he had thrown in a dead rat—he stepped on her foot under the table until she finally bit the bullet and took a bite.

In contrast to Qin Lanshang’s barely concealed disgust, Ruan Feiyu, who had occupied high office for so long, reacted with utter calm. He drank the coarse grain porridge and ate the salted vegetables and preserved meat, looking every bit like an old scholar accustomed to simple food, carrying the refined air of ink and books despite being mired in poverty.

Yet after only a few bites, the hand holding Ruan Feiyu’s chopsticks trembled. His body swayed twice, and before he could speak, he collapsed forward.

Sitting beside him, Lu Mingyuan gasped in shock and hurried to support Ruan Feiyu’s body. However, a sudden wave of weakness washed over him as well; he pressed his hands against the table, but ultimately failed to keep his footing.

Qin Lanshang’s face changed dramatically. She drew her long sword to point at the trio across the table, but her body went limp, and the weapon fell onto the table with a clatter, splashing soup everywhere.

The chopsticks in Ye Fusheng’s hand stood firm on the table. Looking closely, their tips had driven three points into the wood. He held one hand onto the embedded chopsticks as if leveraging them to steady himself, while using his other arm to catch Qin Lanshang before she hit the ground.

Normally a man who loved to smile, his expression now held no trace of mirth, his gaze icy as he looked across. Shrinking slightly from his intense glare, the old man turned his head. “Xiuer, what was it you wanted to tell this young master earlier?”

Xiuer turned pale and stood up in panic. “N-Nothing, I wouldn’t dare!”

“Ungrateful little wretch, you nearly ruined everything!” With a ruthless look in his eyes, the thin man raised his hand to slap her across the face.

Ye Fusheng frowned, picking up a bowl of soup from the table and splashing it across. When the liquid struck the man’s hand, it delivered a jolt of agonizing pain. His arm trembled violently, and he drew it back in a hurry, glaring furiously at Ye Fusheng.

Ye Fusheng said, “Why be so enraged, brother? This young lady said nothing just now. Though using anesthetic to entertain us is quite the generous reception.”

“We dare not underestimate those beside the Southern Scholar,” the old man said with a faint smile, his expression turning gloomy as he turned to Ruan Feiyu. “However, our goal today is only this old thief’s head. It has nothing to do with you juniors, so we had to use a few tricks to keep you from interfering. Ruan, old thief, after more than thirty years, it seems you no longer remember me.”

Ruan Feiyu’s gaze remained calm. Even incapacitated, his demeanor was far from pathetic. “If I had to remember everyone who wanted my life, living would be far too exhausting.”

Anger surged onto the thin man’s brow. “Old Zhang, why waste words with him? Just chop him down!”

Qin Lanshang spat back curses, “You won’t even let a man die knowing why? You grandson of a turtle, are you rushing to get reincarnated—”

Ye Fusheng held her back, saying, “Old Master Ruan is a busy man who forgets things easily. Why don’t I take a guess?”

The old man stared at him intently.

Ye Fusheng continued, “Choosing to lie in wait here at Anxi Mountain, and with you being a retired soldier, it stands to reason this grudge is related to this place. Could it be… related to the aftermath of the ‘Qin Case’?”

The old man narrowed his eyes. “Young master, the more one knows, the shorter one’s life.”

Ye Fusheng sighed. “I am a person who hates using his brain, but unfortunately, one must perform the duties of one’s position. If Old Master Ruan dies here, even if you spare us, my family and relatives back home won’t escape the fallout. We need a scapegoat to take the blame, after all.”

The old man remarked, “Hearing you say that, it seems I should kill you all right now to eliminate future troubles.”

“That would be best. Otherwise, to protect my family, I will hunt you down root and branch after I return—every single one of you—so we can all perish together.”

Ye Fusheng spoke in a mild tone, yet Qin Lanshang, leaning against his shoulder, felt a jolt of alarm, unsure if he was joking or bound by solemn truth.

“None of the people around this old thief Ruan are easy to deal with,” the thin man spat, pulling out a heavy-backed blade. “Then I’ll let you die with full understanding! My name is Yan Peng, son of the former Minister of War, Yan Hong. Twelve years ago, this old thief Ruan framed my father to eliminate a rival, driving him to exile and death. If I do not avenge this, I swear I am no human!”

He spoke exceptionally fast, and by the time the old man tried to stop him, it was already too late.

After a moment of silence, the old man said, “So be it. Then we shall send you on your way with full clarity… I am Zhang Ze, formerly a vice general under General Qin. Years ago, the old thief Ruan framed General Qin, leading to the execution of his entire family and entangling countless soldiers under his command. I was fortunate enough to survive, and I must demand justice today.”

As the grievances were aired one by one, Lu Mingyuan’s face drained of color. He looked at his teacher, only to see Ruan Feiyu remaining perfectly composed.

Ruan Feiyu turned his gaze to Xiuer and asked, “Then whose descendant is this young lady?”

Xiuer’s voice trembled. “M-My mother was the daughter of Censor Xu Congxia. She was later reduced to a military courtesan due to the Qin Case, and… gave birth to me.”

Ruan Feiyu mocked himself softly, “So you are all creditors after all. Claiming my life is no injustice.”

“Since it’s no injustice, go down to hell and confess your sins!” Yan Peng raised his heavy-backed blade high, bringing it down squarely toward Ruan Feiyu’s head!

His eyes were bloodshot, sweat beading on his forehead from intense agitation. His grip on the hilt was slick with sweat, yet held remarkably firm.

He put every ounce of his strength into this strike, already envisioning the old thief’s head rolling in a pool of blood, a triumphant smile spreading across his face.

Yet before that smile could fully form, it froze on his lips.

A withered palm had reached his abdomen at an unknown moment, arriving as fast as lightning cleaving the night sky, or thunder rolling across the heavens.

No one had time to react—not even Ye Fusheng.

The palm strike was light as drifting duckweed, soft as though without bone, like a wispy cloud brushing past a body without an ounce of force. It failed to even rustle Yan Peng’s clothes.

Yet an exceptionally fierce neigong surged through that single palm straight into his internal organs, exploding wildly inside his body, as if shredding every inch of his meridians to pieces!

Blood welled from his mouth, dripping onto that withered hand.

As if the blood was too hot, Ruan Feiyu withdrew his hand, speaking indifferently: “Back then, Yan Hong colluded with rebel lords for personal gain. I was ordered to investigate, and I sentenced his entire family to execution. Whether out of ignorance or misplaced trust, you blame me for this, but ultimately you are merely a lingering remnant of a criminal living on borrowed time. Taking your life leaves no room for resentment.”

Shock rippled through everyone present. Yan Peng’s eyes bulged, his veins popping as he tried to speak, but the moment he opened his mouth, only fresh blood poured out uncontrollably.

In the pool of blood lay a small, horrific piece of tissue. Ye Fusheng saw it with utmost clarity—it was a shattered fragment of a lung.

Five viscera and six bowels, all shattered by a single palm!