“He can’t kill me. As long as you also become strong, he won’t be able to kill you either.”
At the Origin Retreat in Yunhu, someone familiarly entered the house to fetch a pot of fine wine. Though advanced in age and well aware that drinking was harmful to his health, he could never manage to control his appetite.
“Are you truly just going to let Laixian leave like that?”
Reclining on a tall tree in the courtyard was a handsome young man. Though he appeared quite young, he exuded a mature air entirely unsuited to his years.
This was none other than the legendary Old Master Wei Heng. Having attained the rank of a second-rank Sword Sage, one could maintain their youth indefinitely, a realm he had crossed over a decade prior.
“I kept him locked away for twelve years. I made a promise back then that once he came of age, I would no longer chain him down. There are still many storms in this world that he needs to brave on his own. My time is running out, and I cannot protect him much longer.” Wei Heng snapped off a nearby twig and continued, “The events of twelve years ago remain a knot in his heart. Even if he stays obediently put, people will still come looking for him. Since he cannot escape it, it is better to let him make his own choice. When Laixian originally showed no interest in learning swordsmanship from me, it was because he understood that some problems cannot be solved with a sword.”
Wei Heng had lived far too long. He had witnessed countless affairs of the world, yet he had never sought to truly involve himself in them. Remaining aloof from worldly struggles, he sought only a tranquil existence. His northward journey to Wuzhou twelve years ago had been an accident, and taking in Ying Laixian had been an even greater one.
Now, having lived through all these unexpected turns, he finally understood them for what they were: the simple workings of fate.
The young man could not fathom these intricate webs, but he genuinely cared for the junior Ying Laixian, knowing full well that Wei Heng had always groomed Ying Laixian as his successor, otherwise, he would never have kept him hidden away for twelve years. Yet the youth still could not grasp why, whether in the martial world or the imperial court, walking without knowing martial arts meant one’s path could never truly stretch wide. “You never taught him martial arts. No matter where he goes, he won’t be able to go far.”
It was the simplest of logic.
Wei Heng said in a low voice, “He has already stepped into the imperial court, and as for the martial world, a game has already been laid out for him by someone else. All I could do for him was guard him until he reached adulthood, and now I can no longer help.”
The young man felt a prickle of scalp-tingling dread. “Just what kind of person has set their sights on him, leaving you with zero clues even after twelve years of investigation?”
Wei Heng shook his head. “Naturally, anyone capable of annihilating Changye Temple without leaving a single trace is no ordinary adversary. After all, he was there back then.”
That person was a genuine, once-in-a-generation prodigy. The young man recalled the past with a trace of lingering regret, yet he knew that if even Wei Heng was powerless, no amount of outside involvement could alter the final outcome.
“Who are you?”
A second voice suddenly broke the silence inside the dilapidated temple. It belonged to a boy dressed in black, whose sharp features and piercing gaze were fixed upon the small child huddled in the corner. The child appeared even younger, likely not yet ten years of age.
Outside the temple, torrential rain poured relentlessly, accompanied by the deafening, earth-shaking rumble of thunder. With each flash of jagged lightning slicing across the sky, the boy gained a clearer view of the child’s appearance.
Despite being only ten, the child was exceptionally striking. Having taken a fall somewhere, his clothes were filthy and stained, revealing slender, fair wrists marred by numerous cuts.
What startled the older boy most was the child’s eyes, they were like precious gems. Their mesmerizing beauty made them the sole captivating sight within the crumbling temple. Yet despite being covered in injuries, the child uttered not a word, merely staring back in silence. Those eyes were clear and pristine, resembling the sky after a rain-washed storm.
The child must have gone without speaking for a very long time, as his voice was hoarse beyond recognition. Taking two steps forward, the boy finally caught what he was whispering.
“Don’t come over. I bring misfortune.”
The boy paused in his tracks. Though he had no idea why the child would say such a thing, he refrained from closing the distance.
He gathered some dry weeds from around the temple to serve as a makeshift bed, then used a few unusable wooden fixtures inside to spark a fire. Before long, the rising heat warmed the freezing space.
The small child remained curled up alone in the corner. Illuminated by the flickering firelight, the boy finally noticed the numerous sword gashes tearing across the child’s garments. With his own background in martial arts, he could tell at a glance that the child was fleeing for his life from pursuers.
Tossing a piece of wood casually into the flames, the boy asked seemingly at random, “Who’s trying to kill you?”
The child raised his head, the firelight making his eyes sparkle with brilliant clarity. Then, as if remembering something, he instantly lowered his gaze, seeming to wipe away a tear. After a long moment, the boy caught his muffled, choked reply: “I can’t tell you. If I do, he’ll kill you too.”
Curiosity piqued, the boy turned to look at the child. “How strong is he?”
The child fell silent.
Yet the boy clearly saw something glistening slip past the corner of the child’s eye.
“I’m very strong,” the boy said, poking the campfire with a stick to make the flames burn brighter. “He can’t kill me. As long as you also become strong, he won’t be able to kill you either.”
Whatever struck a chord within the child, he shook his head frantically from side to side, as if desperately refuting the notion. “It’s no use. I can’t shake him.”
Hearing the tearful sob in the child’s voice, the boy felt an unexpected wave of softness. He stood up, walked over to the tiny figure, and squatted down in front of him.
The child buried his face entirely in his hands, and only upon moving closer could one hear his faint, muffled sobs.
The boy raised his hand, only to let it drop back down. He repeated the motion a few times before finally offering words of comfort: “I’m going to do something. If I succeed, no one will ever dare bully me again. Will you come with me?”
The physician summoned by Tan Congye lacked any sense of proportion, causing Ying Laixian to pass out purely from the sheer agony. Perhaps the long-forgotten pain felt too intimately familiar, dragging him relentlessly back into the anguish of the past.
He rarely dreamed of bygone days; his memories were far too fragmented and countless to determine which lifetime these particular scenes belonged to.
The damp clothing clinging uncomfortably to his skin prompted Ying Laixian to strip his upper garments off. Bandages were tightly wrapped around his waist and torso to stabilize his fractured ribs, though it proved largely futile.
Jiang Ni and Fang Xu stood guard outside the door. Raising her eyes, Jiang Ni saw Tan Congye striding toward them with broad, purposeful steps, his swaggering, heroic bearing evident in every movement.
“The lord has yet to wake. If the City Lord has business, this subordinate will inform you once he opens his eyes.” Jiang Ni blocked the entrance.
Tan Congye cast a sidelong glance at her. “If he isn’t awake, I’ll go inside and wait until he is. You think you can stop me?”
“Let him enter,” Ying Laixian’s languid voice drifted out from within the room.
Only then did Jiang Ni and Fang Xu exhale in relief, stepping aside to let him pass.
“For someone so eager to see me.” Tan Congye’s words froze instantly in his throat as he crossed the threshold. Ying Laixian was half-reclining on the couch, his upper body entirely bare. The bandages bound tightly around his waist made his already slender waist look as though it might snap under the lightest touch, his porcelain-white skin nearly melting into the stark white of the gauze.
Ying Laixian turned his head, casting a casual, unreadable glance in his direction. That single look reignited the restlessness Tan Congye had just managed to suppress; those cyan-tinted eyes seemed to speak aloud, and even though Ying Laixian’s expression radiated exhaustion, it failed to diminish the bewitching allure of his gaze.
“You rushed over in such a frantic hurry, is there some urgent matter?”
Tan Congye walked straight toward him, maintaining direct eye contact, his gaze dropping instantly to that captivating waistline. “Just came to check if you’re dead yet. So fragile, the Gentleman truly is accustomed to a life of pampered luxury.”
Ying Laixian had heard Tan Congye approaching from outside long ago, never expecting this fellow was merely here to mock him. “Indeed, I lack the martial prowess of City Lord Tan, so you had better protect me well. Otherwise, fragile as I am, I might just drop dead at any moment.”
Tan Congye had long since observed Ying Laixian closely; the youth’s fingers were delicate and smooth, entirely free of calluses, confirming at a glance that he knew no martial arts. And it was precisely this realization that made him all the more intrigued by the person before him. Who exactly stood behind Ying Laixian, allowing him to act with such unbridled arrogance without ever practicing martial arts?
Could it be Wei Heng? Most likely not; if Old Master Wei had intended to intervene, he would have done so himself. Zhong Xiwu? Could a mere Zhong Xiwu grant him such immense confidence?
“Why are you heading to Yunchen? Is it related to the clues regarding the destruction of Changye Temple?”
“More or less,” Ying Laixian answered evasively. “The various sects of the martial world are scattered across the four directions; I naturally need to cast my gaze a bit further.”
“If we’re to cooperate, you must at least lay your cards on the table first.” Tan Congye picked up the folding fan resting by Ying Laixian’s pillow, twirling it idly between his fingers.
Ying Laixian let out a low chuckle. “You enjoy bargaining, don’t you? Since City Lord Tan is a peerless prodigy, why not hazard a guess as to how many ‘cards’ I hold?”
Knowing full well that Ying Laixian wouldn’t yield easily, and that the youth was certain he couldn’t afford to break ties, Tan Congye knew the information in Ying Laixian’s possession was potent enough to shock him. “A peerless prodigy? I wouldn’t dare. There is one person in this world far more deserving of that title than I.”
Ying Laixian waited for him to elaborate.
“That man achieved success at a tender age, stepping into the realm of a Sword Sage at merely twenty-one. Even viewed from today’s perspective, he remains entirely unmatched. Yet such a man was wiped out along with his entire household overnight. Surely the Gentleman has heard of him.”
Ying Laixian was naturally well aware; rumors throughout the martial world abounded, and even keeping to himself, he could not escape them. “Do you know much about him?”
“I only know that after he married and had a child, he rarely walked the martial world, and almost no one ever laid eyes on his wife or child.”
“Have you ever seen him?” Ying Laixian asked abruptly.
“Who?”
“The peerless prodigy you mentioned, have you ever seen him?” Ying Laixian repeated.
Tan Congye answered earnestly, “I had the fortune of seeing him once, more than a decade ago.”
“Do you still remember what he looked like?”
“Yes.” Tan Congye frowned. “Why do you ask?”
Ying Laixian sat upright, slowly pulling on his outer robe. “It’s nothing. I simply can’t remember clearly anymore.”
A jolt ran through Tan Congye’s heart. Catching Ying Laixian by the wrist, he demanded in a cold voice, “Twelve years ago in Wuzhou, you saw him, didn’t you?”
“What kind of madness has seized you?”
Tan Congye pressed on, “I’ve always wondered why you were so obsessed with investigating the truth behind the Changye Temple massacre.”
A sharp ache throbbed in his gripped wrist. Ying Laixian leaned in close, fixing his gaze upon the other’s striking profile as he murmured softly, “I never once said I was investigating the truth of the Changye Temple massacre. It just so happens that you are looking into it, you need the clues, and those clues happen to be in my hands.”
“What on earth are you trying to accomplish?” For the very first time, Tan Congye found himself genuinely unnerved by a youth.
Ying Laixian wrapped his fingers around Tan Congye’s hand. “Knowing won’t do you any good.”
Gritting his teeth, Tan Congye yanked his hand away, a blaze of fury flashing in his eyes. “Hmph! To ensure your safety, this trip to Yunchen, this City Lord will escort you personally.”