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Yao Qinian immediately sneered, "What? You know you can't win, so you want us to win unfairly?"
He truly hated Meng Shizhuang. So much so that over the years, he could constantly recall the tragic scene of the Sujian Mountain massacre. Fanli Village and Sujian Mountain, who had fought their way up the mountain, were nearly equally devastated, the survivors picked off by those who had sniffed out their presence from other peaks. They hurried back from the docks of Daohai City, exhausted, by the time they reached the mountain, the wind and rain had subsided, the blood in the mud was almost dry, and the mountain was filled with the sickening smell of burning barbecue. The brothers who had once shared daily life were tied to high wooden racks like pigs and sheep to be slaughtered.
In order to save these people, Brother Haike was almost seriously injured and died.
From the stories of those who passed out that fateful night, they pieced together the story of Meng Shizhuang, the man who had secretly communicated with Fanlizhuang from within the sect to open the twelve gates. Those fortunate enough to survive the battle even witnessed Meng Shizhuang take away Hall Master Hu, whose fate was unknown. However, they discovered Old Hu's sword, the most striking white sword, near the mountain gate. Daohai City had been searched for him but to no avail. If Old Hu were still alive, would he have been so cruel as to not return to the mountain?
Finally, in the dilapidated courtyard three days ago, they heard two frivolous and indifferent words from Meng Shizhuang's mouth.
"Dead."
Yao Qinian's long-simmering hatred suddenly boiled over, the bloodshot in his eyes thickening, threatening to turn into tears. Only they themselves understood the significance of Sujian Mountain, nestled among the bandit dens, even though it was filled with hatred and shady schemes, even though it lacked prosperity and prosperity, and wasn't even a proper "home," it ultimately provided a place for these desperate orphans to settle down.
How could Meng Shizhuang...ignoring everything about the fact that they also grew up in the mountains, and let the wolf into the house?
The more confused he became, the more Yao Qinian could only blame everything on Meng Shizhuang's vicious nature, and the more he hated him.
Hai Ke stretched out a hand and tried to pry Yao Qinian's trembling shoulders, but Yao Qinian waved his arm away.
He was more perceptive and attentive than Yao Qinian. Even before he obeyed his master's orders to leave the mountain, he already knew there was something fishy going on at Fanli Village. But the truth didn't matter. Ke Congzhou had received the favor he desired. His master would dispatch the disciples guarding the mountain gate, and Meng Shizhuang would soon be free from suffering. Everyone would be happy—if his master's every move went smoothly.
Haike looked at Meng Shizhuang who was standing with a sword in his hand. In fact, he was not looking forward to this life-and-death encounter.
He remained rational. First, he understood that even if Meng Shizhuang had betrayed Sujian Mountain, it was out of self-preservation. In his painful and tangled past, he would have used the clues his master had painstakingly laid out to convince himself, then blamed Meng Shizhuang for not waiting. But he also vaguely knew that with Master Luo's methods of tormenting people, his master might not be able to get what he wanted in the end. Secondly… they had briefly clashed in the courtyard a few days ago, Qian Qi frantically trying to break them up, and the four of them, including Ah Wu, were all stopped by Meng Shizhuang's sword.
Use the sword they had sold to solve an urgent problem.
The magical weapon that the master of the Purple Gold Hall boasted about all day long was sent to the blacksmith shop by them for only twenty taels of silver.
The hesitation Haike imagined himself feeling when he met his enemy was fully revealed at this moment.
But his master was dead. He had no choice but to do nothing and watch Meng Shizhuang appear and disappear before his eyes like a passing guest.
Hai Ke was the first to draw his sword: "It's still me..."
He stopped talking, and Ke Congzhou beside him pressed down his wrist and moved sideways to block half of his body.
Ke Congzhou's demeanor now differed greatly from his youth. The most obvious difference was the dead silence in his eyes, a silence that could suppress any storm. Unlike the deadness that settled on Meng Shizhuang's face, his dead silence was shrouded in a deep sense of self-loathing. It was like a dying bamboo, yet it managed to maintain its dignity. When peeled open, it revealed the ashes accumulated from the night of the raging fire on Sujian Mountain.
He chose a style of play that surprised his companions: "Okay, let's do it together."
"Xiao Qi and A Wu have nothing to do with our feud, so they're just watching from the sidelines. Meng Shizhuang, as we agreed, regardless of life or death, if you lose and are still breathing, I want your sword and your other hand. Go to the mountain and kowtow three times in front of the graves of all your fellow disciples who died in that internal and external conspiracy. We'll see each other again and let everything go. If you win, you can take my life."
The eyes that once held such righteousness in his youth were now filled with hatred, a result of his best efforts to control himself. As time passed, he suffered many injuries on the mountain and again after coming down. The pain prevented him from standing out from the crowd with his handsome appearance and impressive swordsmanship as a teenager.
He was lost in the crowd, living a dull life day by day, with only the occasional sword practice to bring him a sense of freedom. Returning to Sujian Mountain became his unattainable dream – rescuing his fellow disciples and burying the dead was the culmination of their concerted efforts. After these two tasks were accomplished, they parted ways one after another, and after many twists and turns, the only people who stayed with him were the few who had originally descended the mountain.
...There was also a beggar who came out of the same temple as Awuyi.
At that time, Ke Congzhou was struggling with who was the one who truly cared about him, and he never thought that one day he would fall into such a situation.
To this day, he is a little-known escort in Daohai City. The provincial government is carrying out drastic reforms in the city, and he wants to ask for a new grave for his fellow disciple who was once buried there, but even the people around him are arguing with each other every day because of the disagreement.
Ke Congzhou's eyes were always on Meng Shizhuang.
He saw Meng Shizhuang's right hand entangled with her plain sword, the bandages dangling in the wind, as if even this person, even in her disability, was undeniably graceful. A slender waist loomed before him. The waist that Master had sewn all night long hadn't grown much since his youth... Master... Thinking this, Ke Congzhou didn't even pause. With the fighting spirit boiling in his mind, he drew his sword—he wielded Lao Hu's sword, the twin swords that had accompanied him throughout his youth, but which he had eventually discarded because they were too small.
Of course, Meng Shizhuang couldn't fail to recognize this sword.
For many nights, before he was even this tall, he practiced his sword moves under Lao Hu's guidance. His greatest rival now held this sword, and with a crisp, sharp clash, Meng Shizhuang saw the inscription on the sword, a cloud of auspiciousness crookedly carved on the side. As the old acquaintance appeared, he could still vaguely see Lao Hu's stern eyes on the blade.
And the next moment, Ke Congzhou's unnecessary movement to draw his sword dispelled the attachment that rose from the bottom of his heart.
This is not the sword that Lao Hu would use.
He still couldn't stop the subconscious action. As he pressed down on the hilt of his sword, he heard a very small "pop" sound, and two thoughts quickly flashed through his mind. The first thought was almost invariably present in all his years of sword fighting. Before even the shadow of a complete formation appeared, his next subconscious action had already been practiced: to use the scabbard to block the opponent's attack, because with the previous action, he could not draw the sword smoothly.
However, the second thought, "His sword has been tampered with," barely escaped him. Memories of his youth, drawing and shearing, resonated with the gleaming blade of the Su Jian before him. The sword unexpectedly unsheathed with remarkable ease! Meng Shizhuang had no time to think about the wealthy, handsome, and virtuous man she would soon marry. He summoned his inner breath, and the Su Jian roared softly like a dragon in the water before reaching the enemy. Just like that day in the courtyard, three swords were placed on it. Then, the blades, forged from the Su Jian Jue technique, surged forward like a scorching wave.
"Clang!"
After just one encounter, Yao Qinian's sword broke into several pieces. The flying sword fragments scratched his earlobe and cut off a tuft of his hair. Canglang followed closely behind and leaned over to press forward. Yao Qinian's face changed, as if he was in the middle of a river or sea, with nowhere to hide. A burst of pain exploded in his chest, and he vomited blood and half-knelt on the ground.
A Wu and Qian Qi, who were watching the fight, stepped forward with swords and dragged him away.
Yao Qinian tried to struggle, but every movement sent a sharp pain through his chest, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. He coughed violently a few times, clutching his chest and trying to catch his breath. The fight a few days ago had lasted only a quarter of an hour. The courtyard was narrow, and they had tacitly agreed not to use internal energy or sword techniques. He had never imagined that Meng Shizhuang wasn't just blindly arrogant.
He licked the blood from the corner of his mouth. He had always lived a life of mediocrity. After the fall of Sujian Mountain, he practiced swordsmanship tirelessly for a long time, even thinking about when he could rebuild his sect. But as his fellow disciples who survived died, more and more of them left, most of them seeking refuge in bandit dens on other mountaintops. He was lost in his feelings for Sujian Mountain, and his swordsmanship began to fall into disuse. By then, he had sold almost everything he could sell. He couldn't rely on his fellow disciples for support, and the hustle and bustle of making a living made it even harder to concentrate on martial arts.
Meng Shizhuang gave his opponent no time to breathe. He was no longer the child who dared not enter the arena with his sword clutched, or stumbled upon his feet at night. A "ripple" movement, perhaps even Old Hu couldn't master better, swung from his palm. Hai Ke, knowing he couldn't resist, could only fling his sword aside. As for Ke Congzhou, while he didn't possess the conviction of invincibility, his resolve to perish together with his enemies was not far off. Unable to pinpoint the target of Su Jian, he launched a fierce blow with all his might, breaking the sword in his hand with a clang.
He stared at his broken sword, undeterred. He watched Meng Shizhuang transform his sword moves, imagining the broken end as a complete one, like the sweet trick Luo Shun had taught him before he'd tried to harm him. Over the years, he'd tempered himself with countless broken swords, with two swords no longer in his wield. Now, he could even skillfully execute a dozen or so moves with a sword that was now considered "a broken piece of metal" against a plain sword.
Meng Shizhuang did not hold back either.
The first three moves were probing blows; Yao Qinian was vulnerable. Hai Ke, perhaps distracted from his sword practice for various reasons, wasn't a worthy opponent. Only Ke Congzhou remained his opponent. Ke Congzhou was quite relaxed, and Meng Shizhuang didn't play probing tricks with him. Wave after wave of powerful Canglang attacks lashed out from his Su Jian, and Ke Congzhou, unable to dodge, used his internal energy to neutralize them. The Su Jian drew closer, and Hai Ke, having recovered his breath, tried to draw his sword to join in, but Ke Congzhou parried with his scabbard.
Hai Ke looked at him in surprise.
Ke Congzhou only had Meng Shizhuang in his eyes. He used his hands to exert some strength and sent out an irresistible yet harmless force through the scabbard, which knocked Haike out of the training ground.
Meng Shizhuang glanced at the four people outside the field. She grasped the scabbard with her left hand and used a wind blade to sever the bandages wrapped around her right hand. The sword, soft as a bone, was flung down, slashing diagonally into the ground outside the training ground. The torn bandages scattered in the wind, and Ke Congzhou caught a faint scent of herbs. He watched helplessly as the pale, soft hand drooped. His heart trembled, and guilt and conflicting resentment washed over him.
Without waiting for him to stop and question, Meng Shizhuang had already used the scabbard in his left hand to recreate the same imposing Cang Lang.
The wave lacked momentum and was blocked by Ke Congzhou's sword. Between the scabbard and the sword, Ke Congzhou burst into tears of resentment accumulated over the past decade. He and Meng Shizhuang each exerted their strength, and the exchange of glances was a thunderous confrontation. He spoke hoarsely, "I, I only ask you one question: why did you kill Lao Hu... He, he was also very good to you. I can make amends for my mistakes. I escaped before, and today I will return them to you. My hand, my life, is at stake, as long as you tell me why you killed him?"
"Do you know that those people who rushed into Sujian Mountain had no food and used to hide in the gutters of the mountains like rats. When they got a chance, they would eat anything, whether it was tree bark or people. Was Lao Hu thrown to these people by you, or where did you take him? Tell me..." Ke Congzhou choked up so much that he couldn't hold his sword steadily.
Meng Shizhuang suddenly thought: Even if he had been able to take Lao Hu away that day, Lao Hu probably wouldn't have left Daohai City with him. Lao Hu had let his beloved disciple down the mountain, and with the unrest there, he must have waited for Ke Congzhou to return. Perhaps his expectations for Ke Congzhou were the same as Lao Ju's for himself. If he had a choice, would Lao Hu have preferred not to save himself from Luo Shun's sword than to see Ke Congzhou become like this?
So Meng Shizhuang asked him, "Is that all you want to know? Don't you want to know how Luo Shun died?"
Ke Congzhou suddenly stopped, and he even came back to his senses to look at Su Jian in the audience.
His second clash with Meng Shizhuang took place here. Just like before, when Su Jian was thrown from the field, it was Lao Hu who attacked him to save him. He knew Lao Hu had taught Meng Shizhuang martial arts, he saw Lao Hu sewing clothes for her… He could see what Meng Shizhuang had endured firsthand. Meng Shizhuang might have hated Lao Hu, but if he could be so cruel as to attack him, he should have thrown away his other burden and fled down the mountain long ago.
Ke Congzhou's tears were still wet. "He brought this upon himself, and I deserve it too. I just want to know how Lao Hu died and where he is now."
Meng Shizhuang pried the scabbard into his palm, putting some distance between himself and Ke Congzhou.
He said, "He died for me. Luo Shun wanted to kill me, but he died under Luo Shun's sword to save me."
Ke Congzhou knew that Meng Shizhuang had no reason to lie to him at this point. Besides, given all the past, no matter who Meng Shizhuang killed, they were fighting a life-and-death battle. Regardless of their emotional differences, even if he was wrong, he was still the victim. Ke Congzhou then pressed on, "Where is he?"
Meng Shizhuang frowned, and after a moment, he said, "I can tell you, but you can't touch him."
Even if he was selfish, he had to take care of Lao Ju's affairs first. They couldn't take Lao Hu's body away.
Ke Congzhou looked at him quietly for a moment, then raised his sword and swore, "I will never let Master suffer in vain!"
"He's in the land temple. I buried him there when I came down the mountain."
Ke Congzhou's lips trembled as tears streamed down his cheeks. He had passed that place countless times, but aside from a frown at the clumps of hibiscus, he had never once ventured beyond it to explore. After his tears welled up, he took a deep breath, raised his sword, and charged at Meng Shizhuang. This strike was perhaps the most breathtaking and brilliant move he had ever made. The souls of his fellow disciples drifted on Sujian Mountain. He had received the answer he had sought, and could no longer deceive himself by demanding "justice" from Meng Shizhuang. He would abandon it, and let victory or defeat determine life and death.
Meng Shizhuang, who had voluntarily given up his sword, did not retreat. After fighting for a hundred moves, he had figured out Ke Congzhou's attack pattern and was able to find the direction of his sword tip. He mobilized all his internal energy in his left hand, and used the Canglang move that could attack or defend. The mighty river water flowed along the scabbard. Ke Congzhou made a desperate throw in this cold river that was about to drown him, and even the remaining half of the sword slipped out of his hand.
“Click!”
"puff--"
A wave from the "river" knocked the scabbard in Meng Shizhuang's left hand flying, dislocating it and leaving it hanging limply. Ke Congzhou, crushed by the heavy "river water," was unable to breathe. His body instinctively forced him to retreat several steps, finally falling onto the crooked training ground. Furious, Yao Qinian spat out another mouthful of blood, straining against the stinging pain in his chest as he tried to get up and fight again.
Ke Congzhou had already slowly gotten up and stood on the sidelines, staring at Meng Shizhuang for a long time: "I still lost."
Meng Shizhuang half-knelt on the ground, used his knee to support his left hand and pushed it towards the ground, barely reconnecting his left hand. He rested for a while and said to Ke Congzhou what he had wanted to say since he was young: "Lao Hu teaches me sword practice every night. You really can't beat me." Then, without looking at Ke Congzhou's reaction, he walked down the training ground, picked up the sword and put it back into the scabbard.
When Ke Congzhou heard his words, he was stunned at first, and then he slowly smiled.
Many years ago, he held a position and status that every young man in this mountain envied, yet he secretly competed with the destitute, often bullied Meng Shizhuang. He feared he would lose to Meng Shizhuang in his master's eyes, but even if he won, he would still be left with nothing. He watched Meng Shizhuang descend the mountain, then turned to Haike and said, "Wait until he comes down. I want to go pay my respects to my master."
Before Hai Ke could say anything, Yao Qinian, who was helped up by Hai Ke, pushed Ke Congzhou and said, "Why let him go?"
Ke Congzhou picked up the broken sword and said, "I can't beat him."
Yao Qinian's emotions grew increasingly agitated, and he kept coughing up blood intermittently. Ke Congzhou's only concern had been resolved. He looked directly at Haike and Yao Qinian, "He and Meng Shizhuang colluded with Fanli Village to open the mountain gate because of me. I accidentally killed someone and framed him. To put it bluntly, this disaster was caused by me. The outcome between us is already determined. The rest of the revenge will be with me."
Haike was expecting this, but Yao Qinian was stunned and refused to believe it.
"you……"
Ke Congzhou's anger cleared. "If you want to leave, my two brothers, go ahead. I'll find a new resting place for all those buried here. I know Sujian Mountain is no longer here. Even before, it was just a bandit den with no legitimate reason. We have stable lives now, and we don't have to run errands or spend money for the deceased. But since this matter started with me, I should do it for my own peace of mind and not let their bodies lie exposed in the wilderness."
After saying this, he frankly exposed his back and walked down the mountain alone. Ah Wu didn't hesitate, hurriedly bowed, and rushed forward to support Ke Congzhou. Qian Qi hesitated for a moment and sighed, "I, I'm leaving Daohai City and going to the escort agency headquarters in Gusu City with my boss. Take care."
He got together with these companions simply because he knew Awu, who used to be a beggar. As for the separation, there was nothing to be sad about.
Behind him, all that was left was Yao Qinian crying in confusion.
By the time Ke Congzhou reached halfway up the mountain, he could no longer see Meng Shizhuang. He headed toward the land temple and saw, as expected, a newly dug mound behind it. The tombstone was a crudely scribbled wooden tablet, with two names carved with a sword: Hu Feihan and Ju Qieyun. Beneath it were small characters: "My heart is like a sword, sharpened to meet challenges." He had seen Old Hu practice this phrase long ago. However, it was difficult for anyone to achieve it.
Meng Shizhuang finished his last task, feeling still melancholy. But for some reason, as he descended the mountain against the wind, he suddenly felt a sense of relief. He thought, "No more nightmares from now on." His pace grew lighter and lighter. After descending the mountain and entering the city, he passed a large medical clinic. In front of the door, an elderly man, now frail, sat with his eyes closed, holding a cup of tea.
Hearing the noise, the old man raised one eyelid and first saw a limp right hand.
The memory of the old friend came flooding back to him, so he sat up straight and watched Meng Shizhuang passing by. When Meng Shizhuang was about to turn the corner and leave, he said calmly, "Hey, are you the kid who used to follow Brother Ju?"
Meng Shizhuang was quite sensitive to Lao Ju's last name. She turned around and looked at him for a moment. "Are you the old man who said 'Don't take medicine carelessly'?"
Doctor Jiang snorted softly, "You're still as rude as before. How are you, Brother Ju?"
Meng Shizhuang's face didn't look like he was announcing a death. "He's dead... Old man, you're still in good health."
Doctor Jiang was stunned, sighed, and wasn't surprised. Then, he looked Meng Shizhuang up and down again, and smiled meaningfully: "Brother Ju finally got what he wanted with this sword."
Meng Shizhuang didn't understand what he meant. He glanced down at the plain sword in his hand, confused. But he pulled out a purse from his pocket. It was filled by Bian Hongqiu. "Here, I'll pay you back the debt I owed you for ten years."
Doctor Jiang didn't refuse: "Where did you make your fortune?"
Meng Shizhuang waved her hand and walked away in a daze: "The betrothal gift for marrying into the family."
At the dock, Bian Hongqiu waited for more than half a day and still refused to rest. Song Jingyan came over with an umbrella to persuade him: "Ah, you will be safe."
Bian Hongqiu: "I know. He said the veil I embroidered is very beautiful."
Song Jingyan felt a little headache: "Your Highness, logically speaking, it is better not to mobilize a large force."
"I know. He and I wore it secretly in our room."
Song Jingyan knew Bian Hongqiu was upset because he kept saying "I know" to every question he asked. Fortunately, as the sun was setting in the west, she saw the person who was supposed to come from afar, so she quietly retreated with her umbrella. Bian Hongqiu remained motionless for a long time, waiting for Meng Shizhuang to come over. She complained, "My dear, you are praising yourself so much. Why is it taking so long? I thought you ran away with the money."
Meng Shizhuang smiled gently, hugged him with her sword slung over her shoulder, and with some effort took out a bunch of freshly picked jasmine flowers from her sleeve and put them in his hair.
"This is today's hairpin, it's very beautiful."
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