SS CH84

Faced with the two uninvited guests, Duanqing handled the situation with extreme simplicity and brutality.

The simplicity lay in the fact that he rejected the hair ribbon timidly offered by the young woman, stating bluntly that he already had a family and, though his beloved had passed, he had no intention of remarrying.

The brutality lay in the fact that he grabbed the kneeling Ye Fusheng by the collar, hauled him up, and walked out without uttering a single word. His expression was cold and his aura was like ice. None of the bystanders dared to stop him.

Ye Fusheng’s mind was a complete mess. He had been worried about Duanqing for days, but running into him so unexpectedly caught him entirely off guard. Forget about regaining his senses; he was so shocked his three souls and seven spirits were nearly frightened out of his body.

Back then, Gu Xiao had suffered a momentary lapse in judgment and done something foolish. Jumping off the cliff was ostensibly to atone for his sins, but mostly, it was because he couldn’t bear to face the massive mistake he had personally committed. But when he woke up, he realized just how incredibly wrong he had been. He had actually left Duanqing and the severely injured Gu Qifang on the cliff, leaving them to face Helian Yu and the Burial Soul Palace assassins who could appear at any moment.

A single moment’s error in judgment resulted in half a lifetime of regret.

Gu Xiao would never forget the day he returned to Feiyun Peak. The entire mountain was charred and withered, the ground covered in an unendurable mess, but there was no sign of Duanqing or Gu Qifang. Even when he later entered the palace and helped the imperial family reorganize the Lueying Guards, he was unable to find even a shred of information about them. Those past memories of laughter and scolding had vanished in a flash along with his youthful arrogance, settling into an endless nightmare that haunted him through cold nights.

When a living person is in the world, they always leave behind some clues. Yet Duanqing seemed to have evaporated from the face of the earth. Because of this, Gu Xiao had always believed… that he was no longer alive either.

Later, after narrowly escaping death at the Battle of Jinghan Pass, Gu Xiao transformed into Ye Fusheng. But he didn’t feel much joy. Bound partly by a promise to others and partly by his own unfulfilled wishes, he merely lived day by day, wandering through the mortal world like a walking corpse.

Reuniting with Chu Xiwei brought him the emotional ups and downs that proved he was still alive. And that unexpected jug of Canglu wine let him taste a flavor of the human world he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

As Duanqing tightly gripped him and dragged him out of the town, Ye Fusheng was uncharacteristically obedient. He simply stared intently at the white-haired figure leading him, completely ignoring the people and events around him. He felt like he was dreaming, or perhaps last night’s wine had been too strong and he still hadn’t sobered up.

But the slightly cool hand gripping his wrist exerted immense force, making him feel as though his bones were being squeezed right through his flesh. The sensation shattered his chaotic thoughts.

Duanqing finally brought him to the bank of a small river.

The weather was chilly. The wind blew across the water, carrying a bone-deep coldness. The weeping willows on the shore showed little green, resembling dying men displaying a withered, exhausted state.

Duanqing let go. Ye Fusheng swept back his robes and knelt down without a second word, his voice trembling slightly. “Shiniang…”

“Get up.”

Duanqing looked down at the top of his head, his tone remaining cold. “Aside from the transmission between master and disciple and the gratitude owed to parents, the Jinghong lineage kneels neither to heaven nor earth. What is the meaning of you kneeling to me?”

Ye Fusheng’s heart pounded like a drum. At that moment, he was at a complete loss for what to do, not even daring to look up.

When he didn’t rise, Duanqing bent down, grabbed him by the elbow, and hauled him to his feet. Their eyes met—one face as calm as still water, the other pale and bloodless.

Ye Fusheng stared blankly at Duanqing. His Shiniang once ink-black hair had turned completely to frost and snow. His eyes, naturally a lighter shade than most, had faded even further. Only the cinnabar mole at the corner of his eye remained as crimson as before. But now, it didn’t look bright and beautiful; instead, it carried an ominous, murderous aura, like a drop of fresh blood splattered on ice and snow.

He had a bellyful of words he wanted to say, but when they reached his lips, he didn’t dare utter a single syllable. He felt like he was burning up inside. Fortunately, Duanqing spoke first.

While Ye Fusheng was lost in thought, Duanqing had already scrutinized him from head to toe three times. Seeing that he hadn’t lost any arms or legs and wasn’t on his dying breath, he felt a bit of relief. Letting go of him, he asked flatly, “How have you been these past years?”

Ye Fusheng managed to squeeze out a smile. “Great. I can handle the court and the battlefield, I can make friends and beat up hooligans. I couldn’t be better.”

Duanqing’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. “Why didn’t you mention that you are poisoned with Youmeng?”

Ye Fusheng’s heart skipped a beat as Duanqing continued, “After so many years, you haven’t just learned how to spout nonsense, you’ve also learned how to lie.”

No matter how silver-tongued Ye Fusheng usually was, he couldn’t maintain his glibness now. He could only lower his head and admit his mistake with obedient humility. “Shiniang is right to scold me.”

The little brat who used to jump three feet high in his presence had now become this half-dead, submissive creature. Duanqing closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he launched a palm strike straight at Ye Fusheng’s face.

Feeling the fierce wind, the martial artist’s instinct made Ye Fusheng subconsciously raise his arm to block. But immediately realizing who was hitting him, he hurriedly withdrew his strength, lowered his arm, closed his eyes, and obediently waited to be “cleared from the sect.”

Unexpectedly, just as the palm reached his face, Duanqing suddenly shifted his aim. The strike, originally capable of shattering gold and splitting stone, instantly shed its internal energy. It was just a heavy slap that landed squarely on his cheek.

Even without internal energy, the slap carried significant force. Ye Fusheng was struck so hard blood leaked from the corner of his mouth, and a large red mark appeared on his left cheek. Yet, this strike seemed to snap him out of his years-long nightmare. Recovering from the entanglement of his inner demons, he saw a faint trace of anger diffusing in Duanqing’s usually calm eyes, like an undercurrent surging beneath still water.

His face burned with pain. Ye Fusheng looked at Duanqing. He had thought he was prepared to face the reprimands of an old friend, but when the moment truly arrived, an endless wave of cowardice and indescribable grievance still swelled in his heart.

He cursed himself inwardly: What are you feeling wronged for? Wicked disciple, it was a good hit. You deserve to be beaten to death!

Just as Ye Fusheng desperately tried to compose himself, Duanqing’s next words shattered all his self-righteousness and feigned calm.

Having caught every minute shift in Ye Fusheng’s expression, Duanqing said, “That slap was the one your Shifu asked me to give you.”

Ye Fusheng stared at him in disbelief. Guilt, grief, grievance… these complex emotions intertwined and surged upward, pulling blood vessels into his eyes and slowly dyeing his vision red.

“Before she passed away, she scolded you a bit and told me I must slap you on her behalf, as hard as possible.” Duanqing paused, then said slowly, “After the slap, she said to let it go… She doesn’t blame you, and you are not allowed to blame yourself.”

When Duanqing finished that sentence, Ye Fusheng could no longer stand steady. He stumbled and nearly fell to his knees again, barely catching himself by leaning heavily on his knee before slowly straightening up.

His entire body trembled. “Shifu… doesn’t blame me?”

“What happened back then was too sudden. She passed away before she could say much more. Her dying wish was for me to find you and bring you back, and to make sure I didn’t blame you too harshly.” Duanqing frowned slightly after a moment of silence. “I did indeed feel anger and hatred toward you in that moment. But I also knew perfectly well you couldn’t have done such a thing without reason; there had to be a scheme behind it… Since that was the case, at most you were at fault, but you committed no sin. A minor punishment and strict warning would suffice, but it doesn’t equate to trading a life for revenge. So where does the blame come from?”

Ye Fusheng’s pupils constricted. His hands clenched tightly into fists, the knuckles and veins bulging prominently. He held his breath unconsciously, terrified of interrupting Duanqing’s words.

“For these past years, I secluded myself from the world for a reason. It was only in the 7th month of this year that I was able to leave the mountain, re-enter the world, and begin investigating your whereabouts and the truth of what happened back then. I discovered clues at Jinghan Pass and tracked you all the way here…” Duanqing’s cool fingers brushed the moist corner of Ye Fusheng’s eye as he sighed softly. “Qifang had no intention of blaming you. You should learn to let yourself off the hook as well.”

It was as if a traveler walking alone in the dark for far too long had finally seen a sliver of light, or a drowning man had grabbed the last piece of driftwood.

Ye Fusheng murmured, “Let… off the hook?”

“It’s all in the past,” Duanqing said. “Though I failed to fulfill her request, and this message is thirteen years late. Do you hold any resentment?”

“No… no…” Ye Fusheng unconsciously took two steps back. “Shifu… how could I just easily let myself off the hook…”

Duanqing’s eyes narrowed. Suddenly, he said, “Letting you off the hook for this matter was Qifang’s intention, and I have fulfilled it. But where there is leniency, there is also punishment. Since she has shown you leniency, I will be the one to administer the punishment.”

The moment his voice fell, the hand resting near Ye Fusheng’s eye slid down abruptly, delivering another slap to the exact same spot.

“First, acting as a righteous hero is not a fault, but acting purely on impulse is a mistake. Do you admit this?”

This strike was completely merciless and carried immense force. Ye Fusheng’s upper body jolted to the side, and immediately after, a palm struck his chest, sending him stumbling seven steps back until he slammed heavily against a tree trunk.

“Second, falling into a trap and suffering a setback is excusable, but making one mistake after another cannot be lightly forgiven. Do you admit this?”

Duanqing’s robe sleeves fluttered as he formed a sword-finger, gathering his qi to strike the major acupoints on Ye Fusheng’s chest. Finally reacting, Ye Fusheng gritted his teeth and raised a palm to block the strike. However, the force meeting his palm felt as light as a feather. The next instant, an internal force erupted within him, violently shaking his chest and lungs.

“Third, wallowing in the past and trapping yourself in a prison of your own making, lacking ambition, and devaluing your own life. Do you admit this?”

Seeing a thin line of blood trail from his mouth, Duanqing not only didn’t stop, but his fingertips touched and forced apart Ye Fusheng’s palm, aiming for his face again—this time aiming directly between his eyebrows!

Fortunately, Ye Fusheng wasn’t a complete idiot. Catching the hidden meaning in Duanqing’s words, he stopped passively waiting to be beaten. Shifting his footing, he leaned back like an unrooted duckweed drifting backward, instantly gliding twenty feet away. Catching a falling leaf in the wind, he channeled his qi and flicked it forward, sending it slicing toward Duanqing’s approaching fingertips.

Seeing this, Duanqing’s lips twitched slightly, though he didn’t let the smile fully form. With a flick of his wrist, he effortlessly caught the dangerous leaf blade between his fingers.

Ye Fusheng was about to move again when his mind suddenly buzzed loudly, his vision went black, and his internal energy rioted wildly in his dantian. His meridians convulsed as a surge of bloody qi rushed upward. His second move failed to launch, his footing faltered, and his knees buckled as he fell to the ground.

Extreme joy and extreme sorrow were inherently damaging to the internal organs, let alone for someone poisoned with Youmeng. This poison was an expert at exploiting weaknesses; the slightest emotional turbulence would trigger an attack. It had previously been forcefully suppressed by Sun Minfeng’s needles and medicine for a month, and Chu Xiwei had patiently accommodated him until now. He had never been this agitated before.

But during his battle with Helian Yu in the Anxi Mountains, Ye Fusheng had expended massive amounts of internal energy, unleashing the residual poison. He had endured it to keep Chu Xiwei from worrying. Now, dragged back through these agonizing, heart-wrenching memories, he could finally no longer bear it.

Drops of fresh blood seeped through his fingers. His heart and soul trembled violently. For a moment, he couldn’t even tell what day it was; everything before his eyes turned into empty shells. A cacophony of voices echoed in his mind, tearing at him like countless hands, trying to rip him apart.

The moment the pain showed on Ye Fusheng’s face, Duanqing realized something was wrong. But instead of withdrawing his hand, he raised his palm, aiming straight for the crown of Ye Fusheng’s head.

At that exact moment, a dark figure suddenly darted across the water, arriving behind Duanqing in an instant. Seeing the scene before him, the figure didn’t hesitate, launching a palm strike straight at Duanqing’s back.

Duanqing’s eyes grew sharp. His right palm continued its downward trajectory without hesitation, while his left hand unfastened the jade flute at his waist and swept it backward. Though it appeared light and gentle, it solidly blocked the thunderous palm strike.

Chu Xiwei was pale with shock. He watched in near horror as Duanqing’s palm landed on the top of Ye Fusheng’s head.

The next second, blood poured from the man’s nose and mouth. Chu Xiwei’s eyes immediately turned entirely red.