SS CH12

The blade sliced cleanly through flesh without damaging bone, yet Ye Fusheng did not dare act recklessly. He kept his fingers pinching the edge of the blade, terrified that the slightest movement would slice his finger clean off.

When the blade between his fingers trembled, Ye Fusheng released his grip instantly. Xie Wuyi sheathed the blade, looking at Ye Fusheng with a faint trace of emotion. “Back in the forbidden grounds, I suspected your stance was ‘Jinglei.’ However, since the Jinghong blade style vanished without a trace ten years ago, I had to strike to verify it… Heh, what a turbulent time this is.”

Ye Fusheng replied with shame, “It is the past glory of my sect’s seniors; this junior would not dare claim it lightly.”

Weapons and martial arts across the Jianghu were endless in variety. Any nobody with a modicum of skill dared to claim a grandiose title, but those revered by the entire realm were few and far between. Looking back over the past century, only a handful of figures stood supreme, like Mount Tai towering overhead with immortal names carved upon them:

One sword pierces the clouds to open heaven and earth; three blades part the streams to settle the realm. East and West, Buddha and Dao contend for primacy; North and South, scholar and hero debate superiority.

The “three blades” referred to three legendary blade masters who emerged over the past century: Wanyue came first, Jinghong second, and Duanshui last. However, the Wanyue lineage was passed down only to women and gradually waned, while the Jinghong style vanished like a fleeting flower. Today, only Duanshui stood tall in the world.

Yet every beauty eventually ages, and every hero reaches the end of the road.

By answering this way, Ye Fusheng effectively admitted that he was the current master of the Jinghong blade.

Xie Wuyi noted, “Your ‘Flower-Plucking’ stance was executed well. Had you held a Jinghong blade just now and struck my left arm with ‘Baihong,’ I could not have sheathed my blade so easily.”

Wiping the blood from his hand with a dry cloth, Ye Fusheng let out a bitter smile. “I came to resolve my doubts, not to make an enemy.”

The icy chill on Xie Wuyi’s face faded slightly. Wiping cold sweat from his brow, Ye Fusheng asked, “Stories fall into two categories: one is a fabricated pastime to kill time, while the other is an event that actually transpired in the past. In the Manor Lord’s view, which category does the ‘story’ told by Lady Rong Cui belong to?”

Xie Wuyi asked in return, “Is this the doubt you came to resolve?”

Ye Fusheng rubbed his nose, only to hear Xie Wuyi let out a soft laugh—devoid of his usual hostility, carrying only deep mockery: “I suppose what you truly wish to know is… how there could be two Xie Wuyis in this world? Whether the person standing before you is truly the Master of Duanshui Manor, and who the person who entrusted the jade pendant to you really was?”

Releasing a slow breath, Ye Fusheng cupped his fists in apology. “Indeed. I acted rashly and offended the Manor Lord. If this matter involves secrets of great import, you need not force yourself; I swear I will never trouble you about it again.”

Xie Wuyi questioned, “I only want to know why you would risk offending Duanshui Manor over something that has nothing to do with you?”

“A drop of water received in need should be repaid with a surging spring… Let alone…” Ye Fusheng lowered his hands with a wry smile, “…let alone a life-saving grace.”

“He saved you?”

“Had he not, he would not have needed to die.”

The flickering candlelight cast long shadows of both men across the room. Xie Wuyi fell silent for a long moment before suddenly sweeping his sleeve to shut the half-open window that was rattling in the night wind.

“What Rong Cui told you was indeed a past event that truly happened. I am Xie Min, and so was he.” Xie Wuyi lifted the kettle. Due to his medical regimen, it contained no tea, only lukewarm water.

Pouring half a cup of warm water, he handed it to Ye Fusheng, who drank the tasteless liquid in one gulp, holding his breath to listen attentively.

“I left home at a young age, wandering the Western Regions with my mother for years. Even with Rong Cui by my side later on, I remained ignorant about the concept of a ‘father.’ I resented him for failing to care for us for fourteen years, yet I couldn’t help remembering his tenderness toward my mother and me in my childhood memories. Thus, thirteen years ago, after I avenged my mother, he sent a letter asking me to return home with her ashes. I agreed almost without hesitation. Travelling from the Western Regions to the Central Plains, I met several figures who shared old ties with him, all saying that Manor Lord Xie Chongshan of Duanshui Manor had a worthy successor. I was overjoyed to hear it, yet I didn’t dare remove my mask or cloak, terrified they would discover the Young Manor Lord of Duanshui Manor was a monster covered in toxic sores. When I finally saw him at the foot of the mountain, I felt a strange unfamiliarity, alongside a rare sense of fear.”

The so-called anxiety of returning home stemmed not just from years of separation, but from the fear that things and people had irrevocably changed.

“I had so many questions for him, and he for me. So I let Rong Cui rest in the guest rooms while I drank late into the night with him. He wept bitterly over my mother’s ashes and expressed tender concern for me, leaving the resentment I had harbored for years with nowhere to go… I thought people could change, that he truly regretted his past cruelty, and that I should learn to move on. So, at his request, I removed my mask and cloak, exposing the repulsive sores that disgusted even myself…”

“In that moment, a light glinted in his eyes. I thought it was tears, but only later did I realize… it was cold resolve.”

At this point, Xie Wuyi took a slow sip of plain water, his expression turning icy once more. He stared at his reflection in the cup, as if gazing through the shimmering water at another version of himself, before letting out a mocking laugh.

“He led me into the forbidden grounds beneath Wanghaichao, claiming he had a vital secret concerning the manor’s survival to share. I followed him down, only to find a man there who bore a slight resemblance to me—though he looked even more like our father in his youth. I instantly guessed his identity: while my mother was alive, she mentioned more than once that had I not been born, my father would have turned against her for the sake of a shameless courtesan who had secretly conceived his child.” Xie Wuyi scoffed. “That man was the bastard son my father had with that courtesan! My mother ruined that woman’s face while she was alive, and my father swore never to see her again. Yet who would have thought that in the very second year after my mother took me to the Western Regions, he brought that bastard back.”

Seeing his legitimate wife’s remaining child afflicted with toxic disease, even if she sought medicine in the Western Regions, who could guarantee a cure? Thus, Xie Chongshan remembered the disfigured courtesan and the child who should have been eight years old by then.

Because the poison master possessed a fierce temper, her departure from Duanshui Manor had caused quite a stir. The entire Jianghu knew Xie Chongshan’s wife and child had gone to the Western Regions, making it impossible for him to openly search for a bastard son. He could only send trusted confidants to investigate secretly, eventually receiving news that the disfigured courtesan had died in childbirth, leaving behind a nameless son living as a beggar in Guyang City, referred to simply as “Dog” by the other beggars.

He brought the child back, discovering the boy’s natural talent for martial arts was no inferior to Xie Min’s. Overjoyed, he brought him to Duanshui Manor. To avoid suspicion, he kept the child hidden year-round within the forbidden grounds of Wanghaichao, visiting every night to personally instruct him in literature and martial arts, both of which the boy mastered with extraordinary comprehension.

The low name of “Dog” was cast aside, yet Xie Chongshan never gave him a proper name, terrified that a single mistake might allow a bastard to tarnish his reputation. Thus, the nameless child was raised in secrecy until Xie Min returned from the Western Regions.

Eighty-two battles across the Western Regions had stunned the Jianghu, and the Canglan Thirteen Blades possessed unique brilliance; such a son was the true heir Xie Chongshan envisioned to become the next Manor Lord of Duanshui Manor.

He had been ecstatic, only to have cold water doused over his hopes immediately.

Though Xie Min had achieved martial mastery and fame across the realm, he was covered in scars and deeply poisoned. He could neither show his face to the public nor fulfill the duty of continuing the family line; any child he fathered would only inherit the same monstrous afflictions.

Yet word had already spread throughout the Jianghu that Xie Min, the Young Manor Lord of Duanshui Manor, had returned home. Inviting letters for the Martial Tournament of Blades and Swords had already arrived under the eyes of all.

Xie Chongshan was forced to make a painful choice: he knocked Xie Min unconscious, imprisoned him beneath Wanghaichao, and allowed the bastard son he had painstakingly trained for fourteen years to finally see the light of day.

Even if the substitute did not know the Canglan Thirteen Blades, fourteen years of Xie Chongshan’s personal instruction had imbued him with the true essence of the Duanshui blade style, making him every bit a match for the title.

Xie Chongshan had declared: “From this day forth, you are Xie Min.”

Because no one aside from Xie Chongshan and Rong Cui had ever seen Xie Min’s true face, the nameless bastard officially became the rightful Young Manor Lord. After he defeated all rival heroes at the Martial Tournament of Blades and Swords, no one could ever dispute his identity again.

“Back then, Rong Cui and I were inseparable, and many in the Jianghu knew of her existence. Xie Chongshan didn’t kill her to silence her; instead, he used my life to threaten her into staying by his side as a cover, making her responsible for delivering my daily supplies. She was beautiful and spirited, and over time, the other Xie Min grew fond of her. She told me to wait patiently, promising she would find an opportunity to rescue me.” Xie Wuyi let out a mocking laugh. “Xie Chongshan at least retained a shred of paternal affection and didn’t destroy my martial arts, merely setting up intricate mechanisms to prevent my escape. Perhaps out of a guilty conscience, he never came to see me again after that night. I harbored deep hatred, training day and night in that confined space, longing for the day I would break free and make him and the substitute who stole my place regret everything!”

Ye Fusheng furrowed his brows slightly as Xie Wuyi continued, “In the eighth year of my imprisonment, Rong Cui gradually stopped coming, replaced by deafeningly mute servants. Terrified that she had been suspected or mistreated, I grew restless, searching all over the forbidden grounds. The main exit was guarded by Xie Chongshan’s trusted men, so I didn’t dare disturb them. I was forced to seek another way out, eventually discovering a path blocked by a Dragon-Blocking Stone deep within the ruins. I dug at it with blade and sword, day after day, taking two full years to finally carve out an escape route.”

So that was the story behind the ruined marks in the forbidden grounds.

In his mind, Ye Fusheng pieced together the chaotic timeline of events. This man was thirty-four years old; he had been imprisoned beneath Wanghaichao at twenty-one, escaping ten years later—which landed precisely three years ago!

Three years ago, a Western Region blade master challenged the Master of Duanshui Manor at Lingyun Peak. In the end, both fell down the high cliff, leaving one injured and the other missing.

A sudden thunderclap seemed to explode in Ye Fusheng’s mind, setting his ears ringing.

Xie Wuyi’s expression turned somewhat distant. “When I escaped the forbidden grounds, it was night. Relying on my martial arts, I snuck into the manor to find Rong Cui. She was practicing her whip techniques in the courtyard, with no outsiders around. Seeing me, she was overcome with shock, yet her eyes held a complex emotion I couldn’t read at the time. I only asked if she was well and urged her to leave with me immediately. Before she could answer, Xie Chongshan and that man arrived… The moment he appeared, Rong Cui pulled her hand out of my grip.”

Ye Fusheng felt his heart skip a beat.

Xie Wuyi mocked himself: “Turns out she wasn’t being mistreated or suspected; she simply didn’t want to—and didn’t dare to—see me again… She had married the man who replaced me and borne him a son named A-Li. With their family of three living in perfect harmony, why would she ever want me to show up and ruin everything?”

Ten years was long enough to separate the living from the dead, and long enough to change a person’s heart.

He was covered in toxic sores and racked with deep-rooted ailments, unfit to be seen by anyone. Rong Cui taking care of him for so many years was out of affection, but abandoning him was only natural human behavior.

What was more, the man who shared his name and stole his identity was as refined as jade, highly skilled in both literature and martial arts—what woman in the world would not fall for him?

In the end, he had lost everything, including his name and his last remaining kin.

Ye Fusheng refilled his water cup and said slowly, “And so, you proposed the duel at Lingyun Peak.”

Xie Wuyi countered, “To reclaim everything that rightfully belonged to me—is that not what I should have done?”

Ye Fusheng shook his head. “It is human nature, completely understandable. However, I heard that an accident occurred during the battle at Lingyun Peak, and rumors in the Jianghu claimed you used a treacherous poison scheme to harm him.”

“I was not so despicable, nor was he.” Xie Wuyi took a sip of water. “With the Canglan Thirteen Blades at my disposal, alongside ten years of grueling cultivation beneath Wanghaichao, I thought victory was assured. I never expected that he was no pushover either.”

Ye Fusheng noted, “The Duanshui Blade Technique is profound and extensive. Having received expert instruction from childhood, combined with extraordinary natural talent and relentless effort—not to mention emerging victorious at the Martial Tournament of Blades and Swords ten years ago—he faced endless challenges over the years. Naturally, he was no inferior to you.”

“Indeed. That should have been a duel between equals, where only Heaven knew who would live and who would die.” Xie Wuyi set down his teacup. “Because of that, someone grew desperate.”

One was unwilling to lose the most perfect heir and destabilize the foundation of Duanshui Manor, while the other was unwilling to lose her most beloved man and let her son lose his father.

“He and I fought until both of us were severely injured, neither able to overcome the other. However, Rong Cui had secretly smeared poison on the Duanshui blade beforehand. That poison was colorless and odorless, yet it countered the ‘Hundred-Day Poppy,’ triggering the dormant toxins in my body. Thus, after more than a hundred exchanges, the toxic ailments flared up within me, leaving me at a disadvantage.”

Ye Fusheng sighed, “A woman’s heart is truly biased.”

“The only person who knew my weakness was Rong Cui. Upon realizing how heartless she was, I was overcome with shock and rage, turning to slash my blade toward Rong Cui outside the duel ring.” Xie Wuyi’s eyes darkened. “He turned out to be a good husband; instead of taking the chance to kill me, he moved to save Rong Cui’s life. So I simply altered my move mid-strike, severing the tendons in his right wrist with a single slash.”

Ye Fusheng uttered a soft “Ah,” as Xie Wuyi continued: “In that moment, both Rong Cui and Xie Chongshan were dumbfounded. Coughing blood, I laughed and asked Xie Chongshan, ‘Now that his hand is ruined, will you continue to support him?’ Xie Chongshan’s face turned ghastly. I asked again, ‘Toxic ailments might be cured, but severed wrist tendons cannot be reattached even by the Ghost Physician. You had better think this through clearly.’“

Ye Fusheng remarked, “The wheel of fortune turns; what goes around comes around.”

“Indeed. A man like Xie Chongshan never valued affection, caring only for his own interests and those of Duanshui Manor.” Xie Wuyi curled his lips into a satirical smile. “There could only be one Xie Min in this world. Hearing those two sentences, Xie Chongshan drew his blade without hesitation, intending to personally root out his former perfect heir. I felt immensely satisfied in that moment, but my joy proved short-lived—that fellow grabbed hold of me with one hand and dragged us both down Lingyun Peak.”

“Lingyun Peak features rugged terrain with a deep valley below. Falling together, we would have died without a burial place had the trees and brush not broken our fall. When I woke up, I found myself lying inside a mountain cave, with him sitting not far away.” Speaking to this point, Xie Wuyi suddenly let out a faint laugh. “Speaking of which, he and I had been thorns in each other’s throats for ten years, yet that was truly only our third time meeting. My instinct was to reach for my blade, but it was long gone. Instead, he limped over using the Duanshui blade as a crutch, handing me two wild fruits while saying, ‘Make do with these for now; starving to death here isn’t worth it.’“