SS CH51

After this thunderous palm strike was dealt, Ruan Feiyu did not cast so much as a single glance at the slowly collapsing Yan Peng. Instead, he drew a handkerchief from his sleeve, covered his mouth, and began to cough. His coughing was gut-wrenching and severe, executed with such violent force that it seemed as though he might tear his own bronchial tubes apart.

Yet, no one dared to make a reckless move anymore.

A single sword pierces the clouds to open heaven and earth; three blades divide the currents to settle the universe.

The Buddhist and Daoist masters of the East and West contend for precedence; the Scholar and Knight of the South and North debate high and low.

Qin Lanchang had grown up listening to the legends of these eight individuals. Regrettably, she had been born at an inopportune time; before her own willow-like waist could fully mature, the eight great masters had already reached the twilight of their heroism. Some had been obscured by the red dust of the mundane world, vanishing without a trace, while others had passed their legacy to descendants who failed to replicate the glory of their ancestors. To this day, only their hollow, grand reputations remained to carry the weight of their past prominence.

For this reason, she had previously dared to view the preeminent Southern Scholar as nothing more than a somewhat formidable old scoundrel, believing the matter ultimately boiled down to mere victory or defeat. She had not understood that though a fierce tiger may grow old, its terrifying majesty remains intact.

Looking at the corpse that lay before her with eyes failing to close in death, a wave of cold dread surged from the soles of her feet straight to the crown of her skull. Instantly, she was struck completely speechless.

This was also the very first time Ye Fusheng had witnessed Ruan Feiyu take action.

He had engaged in countless dealings with Ruan Feiyu over the past ten years. However, Ruan Feiyu occupied a lofty position; whether it was the Sanmei Academy or the guards of the imperial court, there was never a shortage of people willing to sacrifice their lives to protect him. In Ye Fusheng’s memory, this Southern Scholar had always strategized amidst casual conversation and laughter, altering the course of political storms with a mere stroke of his brush. He resembled an exquisitely refined scholar far more than a martial artist.

But Ye Fusheng had suffered losses in his earlier years. By now, he no longer underestimated anyone, let alone one of the eight great masters who enjoyed a towering reputation across the land. Even though Ruan Feiyu had consistently behaved like a consumptive invalid, Ye Fusheng had maintained a thread of vigilance in his heart. Therefore, upon seeing him launch such a sudden and devastating attack, Ye Fusheng was only startled for a brief instant before promptly recovering his wits.

The numbing drug mixed into the food was indeed a high-quality product. However, Canglu was a truly rare and exceptional substance; it was not only capable of neutralizing poisons and clearing the mind, but it could also rapidly dissipate the properties of numbing agents and knock-out drugs. Having delayed for this short duration, the sensation of paralysis in his limbs had already faded away. Ye Fusheng flexed his wrists and slowly stood up.

The moment Ruan Feiyu struck, Zhang Ze had already deduced that the group had employed some method to resist the numbing drug. Now, seeing Ye Fusheng rise to his feet, he didn’t waste a single moment thinking. He violently shoved Xiuer—whose face had already turned stark white from terror—behind him and barked, “Lock the door and run!”

Xiuer was utterly dazed by the sudden turn of events. Toppled to the ground by his push, she looked up at him in complete helplessness. It took her a few moments to react; with a sharp scream, she scrambled and crawled her way out of the room. Ultimately, she did not forget Zhang Ze’s instructions and frantically slammed the practically useless wooden door shut.

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Qin Lanchang raised her sword, intending to break through the door and intercept her, but she had not anticipated that despite Zhang Ze’s advanced age, his movements would be incredibly rapid. He reached his right hand beneath the table and actually drew out a short blade. It was barely a foot long and thin as paper, appearing at first glance like a toy used to amuse children.

Yet, his figure shifted fluidly, completely devoid of any elderly sluggishness. As he flung his hand upward, the blade shot forth squarely toward Qin Lanchang’s front. The razor-sharp edge flew across like a strip of white silk, intent on wrapping around her throat.

Qin Lanchang had not yet stabilized her footing and lacked the time to react to this sudden development. Lu Mingyuan’s expression altered. He slammed his palm against the table, using his internal energy to jolt the peanuts on the dish into the air. Within a fraction of a second, his fingers unfurled and snapped closed like a blooming and wilting lotus; those peanuts flew out in a chaotic flurry, yet with hair-splitting precision, they struck toward several major acupoints across Zhang Ze’s body.

Left with no alternative, Zhang Ze withdrew his blade to defend himself. When the peanuts collided with the edge of the blade, a metallic clanking sound actually rang out. However, Lu Mingyuan’s injuries had not yet fully healed, and the internal strength infused into the projectiles fell short. After three exchanges, the peanuts were deflected away, and the edge of the blade seized the opening to thrust straight toward Ruan Feiyu’s face!

The tip of the blade was a mere fraction of an inch from the scholar’s eyeball, but Zhang Ze could no longer advance a single step further.

Ye Fusheng had already reached his side.

Just a moment prior, Ye Fusheng had been standing beside Ruan Feiyu. In less than the blink of an eye, he had shifted his steps to Zhang Ze’s side. One of his hands gripped the old man’s shoulder while the other clamped onto the wrist holding the blade; though the movement appeared effortless, his hold was as solid as a boulder.

Having spent many years in the military, Zhang Ze possessed physical strength far exceeding that of ordinary men, and even in his old age, his body showed no signs of frailty. Yet, at this moment, with his shoulder and wrist pinned by Ye Fusheng, he was utterly incapable of moving an inch. Even though his mortal enemy stood directly before him, he could not advance the slightest bit further.

“Though every grievance has its source and every debt its debtor, the present moment is an extraordinary circumstance, so I can only offer my apologies,” Ye Fusheng said with a sigh. He altered his grip into a striking palm, deflecting the life-threatening blade away. Simultaneously, his left hand—which held the old man’s shoulder—slid downward, seizing the right elbow and twisting it with a fluid motion. With a sharp crack, the joint was wrenched entirely out of its socket.

The short blade clattered onto the floor. Zhang Ze broke out into a cold sweat from the intense pain, prompting Ye Fusheng to release his grip, having no intention of taking his life. However, the old man’s bloodshot eyes swept rapidly over them. He suddenly clamped his teeth together with immense force, and a sudden flush of crimson rushed into his pale face. A roar resembling that of a cornered beast issued from his throat; entirely disregarding Ye Fusheng, he lunged wildly toward Ruan Feiyu.

Seeing a trail of fresh blood spill from the corner of the old man’s mouth, Ye Fusheng realized he must have broken and swallowed some hidden secret medicine concealed within his teeth—a drug that would induce a state of frenzy upon ingestion. At this thought, he casually shoved Qin Lanchang to the side, flattening his hand into a palm-blade to chop down directly at Zhang Ze’s waist. If this strike landed solidly, the old man would be left paralyzed for the remainder of his life, even if it didn’t kill him.

The very instant the palm-blade struck the waist, Zhang Ze’s hand had already reached Ruan Feiyu’s front. Only then did Ye Fusheng discover that the dark grime beneath the old man’s fingernails was not dirt from agricultural labor, but rather a dull, glinting green hue. It was highly probable that a lethal poison had been mixed into it; if the skin were to be scratched open, the consequences would undoubtedly be catastrophic.

Witnessing this, Lu Mingyuan used his own body to shield his mentor without a second thought. Right at that critical juncture, a withered, emaciated arm extended from beneath his armpit. Ruan Feiyu’s counter-strike remained as swift as a crack of thunder, accurately seizing Zhang Ze’s throat.

Instead of turning furious upon being caught, Zhang Ze rejoiced. He rapidly withdrew his extended left hand and clawed viciously at Ruan Feiyu’s arm. This fierce swipe tore through the fabric of the sleeve, leaving four bloody gashes across the withered, pale forearm!

In the next instant, a agonizing pain flared from Zhang Ze’s waist, as though a tightly wound string had snapped right through the middle. His lower body instantly lost all strength, and Ye Fusheng grabbed Zhang Ze by the collar with one hand, pulling him backward and away. The emaciated old man collapsed prone onto the floor, completely unable to crawl back up. While spitting up blood, he stared fixedly at Ruan Feiyu and laughed maniacally, “Soul-Severing Grass! Haha, Soul-Severing Grass! Old thief Ruan, come to hell with me! It is enough! It is enough!”

The Soul-Severing Grass was a venomous herb that grew in the Northern Borders; though it was uncommon, it was a lethal poison that sealed the throat upon contact with blood. Hearing these words, Lu Mingyuan’s face turned deathly pale. Qin Lanchang was stunned by this sudden development, caught entirely between joy and grief. Ye Fusheng frowned, ripped the small silver flask from his waist, and strode toward Ruan Feiyu, uncertain whether the Canglu could neutralize such a virulent toxin.

However, as he drew closer, he saw that while the arm was mottled with blood, the fluid flowing from the wounds… was bright red.

Zhang Ze’s maniacal laughter ground to an abrupt halt.

Ruan Feiyu wrapped the wound using his handkerchief. He kept his head lowered, making it impossible to discern his emotions. He coughed twice, walked to stand before Zhang Ze, and said calmly, “This old frame is not yet destined to die. I have gone against your wishes.”

Zhang Ze’s face was as yellow as gold-leaf paper. He showed no fear, but his eyes were filled entirely with unyielding resentment. He suddenly extended his left hand and gripped Ruan Feiyu’s foot with a vice-like hold, exerting such immense force that his poison-laced fingernails embedded themselves into the flesh. Blood thoroughly soaked through the scholar’s shoes and socks, yet Ruan Feiyu remained completely motionless, as though he were entirely oblivious to the pain.

The sight of the dark red blood stung his eyes. Zhang Ze’s body, which had been hollowed out by the secret medicine, finally failed to endure any longer at this very moment. His entire frame convulsed uncontrollably, and his voice trembled violently: “Heavens… the heavens… are b-blind!”

_

Watching him in this state, Qin Lanchang’s initial shock and fury transformed into profound sympathy. Furthermore, when she recalled that this white-haired old man was actually a soldier who had followed the Northern Knight through life and death in the past, the remaining fragments of her anger dissolved completely. She sheared her sword back into its scabbard, lowered her eyelids, and asked softly, “You said you were General Qin’s lieutenant? But I have heard that General Qin lived his entire life with open honesty and integrity. Why do you choose to employ such underhanded tactics like sneak attacks and secret poisonings?”

“Little girl, cough… in this world, good people do not live long lives, while scourges endure for a thousand years.” Zhang Ze looked at her. The moment his gaze brushed past the girl’s bright, large eyes, his heart felt as though it had been pricked by something sharp. He turned his head away, glaring intently at Ruan Feiyu as he spoke, “General Qin dedicated his entire life to the nation, yet he was destroyed by this old scoundrel, resulting in the unjust death of his entire clan… Since the heavens lack eyes and the laws of the land offer no justice, then we shall become villains who execute justice on behalf of heaven.”

Ruan Feiyu replied indifferently, “Even if you managed to slay this old frame today, when you descend to the Yellow Springs in the future, Yunfei would not be able to close his eyes in peace.”

Yunfei was the courtesy name of the Northern Knight, Qin Hebai. This was the very first time in all these years that Ye Fusheng had heard Ruan Feiyu mention the man whom he had personally thrown down from the highest pedestal. His tone was perfectly calm and natural, bearing no resemblance to the irreconcilable enmity recorded in legends and official case files; instead, it sounded like an old friend reminiscing over a shared cup of turbid wine.

“What General Qin thinks, we do not know… We shall… go down and ask him ourselves.” Zhang Ze coughed up a mouthful of blood. His breath was as faint as a drifting thread, yet a smile appeared on his face. “Old thief Ruan, why don’t you come with me and ask him together!”

Ye Fusheng’s heart skipped a beat. Zhang Ze put forth the last of his strength to shift his body aside. Fresh blood had already thoroughly saturated the floor tile beneath him; one of the tiles sat slightly higher than the rest of the ground, but because the house was so dilapidated, no one had noticed it initially.

Ye Fusheng immediately extended his hand to block him, but it was already too late. Zhang Ze’s hand had already slammed down heavily, and a faint sound of a mechanical mechanism clicked beneath their feet!

Qin Lanchang had already shut her eyes in sheer terror.

However, after a few moments passed, there was no thunderous roar, nor did the earth crack open. Everything remained completely quiet, as though absolutely nothing had transpired.

She opened her eyes, and indeed, nothing had occurred.

The mechanism had clearly been triggered, yet the entire house remained as tranquil as before. Zhang Ze’s eyes were wide open in disbelief, and Lu Mingyuan’s face bore an unsuppressable look of shock and suspicion. Only Ruan Feiyu remained perfectly composed.

The wooden door was pushed open from the outside, and Xiuer—who had run out just moments ago—was violently shoved back inside, her face filled with an unspeakable terror. Behind her, a figure stepped into the room, silhouetted against the fading glow of the setting sun. The dark-patterned, narrow-sleeved long robe was enveloped in a layer of pale gold by the residual sunlight; though the color was inherently somber, it appeared incredibly warm at this particular moment.

Ye Fusheng had been filled with anxious worry all along the journey. Now that he truly beheld the person before him, no sense of wild surprise welled within his heart; instead, there was a profound sense of finality, akin to a fallen leaf returning to its roots.

“A-Yao,” he said, narrowing his eyes into a warm smile, his tone gentle and laced with a hint of delight. “You’ve returned.”