Chapter 110

This scene left Yang Guo extremely shocked.

He knew Feng Yi's martial arts were strong, peerless in the world, while this old beggar had just leapt down from the tree to attack directly, his body technique floating like a dragon, and after exchanging a palm with Feng Yi they were evenly matched; such martial arts cultivation was not inferior to the strongest experts he had seen, Guo Jing and Ouyang Feng, and he realized he had encountered a master.

Then he examined the stranger closely: he saw a rectangular face, beard and eyebrows all white, looking about seventy or eighty, his clothes patched with pieces of cloth here and there, a bamboo stick tucked at his waist, and a vermilion-lacquered gourd on his back. At first glance he seemed just an ordinary begging old man; no one would have imagined his astonishing feat just moments before.

Little did he know, he was surprised, but the old beggar was even more astonished than he.

The old beggar gazed at Feng Yi and felt this kid was full of mysteries, strangely beyond imagination. At his age, facing three great beauties within easy reach, to not rely on strength and act rudely was already rare; this martial arts skill was even more extraordinarily extraordinary.

He had experienced a hundred battles, his martial arts insight extremely profound, yet no matter how he looked, he could never see through Feng Yi's details.

Just as he was pondering, he suddenly saw Feng Yi clasp his fists and say, "Senior Hong, leader of the Beggar Sect, your lightness skill is superb, your palm force is fierce, your body is sturdy. You truly deserve to be one of the 'Five Absolutes of the World'."

Yang Guo's eyes flashed with a hint of surprise. He thought to himself, "So this senior is actually Hong Qigong; no wonder his martial arts are so profound."

In the Chongyang Palace of the Quanzhen Sect, he had once heard his senior brothers discussing contemporary figures, all saying that the former chief of the Beggar Sect, Jiuzhi Shengai Hong Qigong, possessed peerless martial arts, his loyalty and courage shone brightly, and he was a great hero.

Moreover, he had also heard Xiao Longnv mention Hong Qigong's reputation and techniques such as the Eighteen Dragon-Subduing Palms in casual conversation, but Hong Qigong's appearance and temperament were not clear even to Lin Chaoying back then, let alone Xiao Longnv.

The old beggar heard him say three "goods" in succession, burst out laughing, and said, "Good, good, good, kid, you are far stronger than I was in my youth. Hmm, far stronger, far too strong. This fist technique of yours is the Great Subduing Demon Fist from the Nine Yin True Classic; I happen to know it."

But what inner energy is this? It's amazing! Who is your master? Hmm, this inner energy is extraordinary; this old beggar has never seen anything like it!

The old beggar also praised Feng Yi with three repetitions of "strong".

He is none other than Jiuzhi Shengai Hong Qigong.

He loved food all his life; after the Mount Hua Sword Summit, he parted ways with Guo Jing, Huang Rong, and Huang Yaoshi, then wandered east and west alone, seeking out exotic delicacies across the world.

Guangdong's climate is warm and pleasant, offering the most rare recipes. After arriving in Lingnan, he found his calling and did not return to the Central Plains for over ten years.

In that land of the Hundred Yue, venomous snakes are made into soup, old cats stewed in bowls, spotted fish resemble mice, giant shrimp are called dragon, fat oysters braised with old ginger, dragon lice steamed with millet worms, wings born in the Western Sands, conch horns herald the eastern wind, roasted piglet with crisp skin, braised civet cat yields red meat—Hong Qigong felt as if he had ascended to the fairy realm, his joy endless.

Occasionally, when he witnessed injustice, he would secretly aid the endangered and relieve the distressed, slay the wicked and exterminate the treacherous; with his abilities at the time, no one could know his comings and goings.

Sometimes, by eavesdropping on Beggar Sect disciples' conversations, he learned that under the leadership of Huang Rong and Lu Youjiao, the Beggar Sect was peaceful; internally the Filthy Cloth and Pure Cloth factions ceased their strife, externally the pressure from the Jin people and the Iron Palm Sect was lifted; the old man had no worries, his days spent merely opening his mouth to eat and gulping down food.

That year, the second of the Five Ugly Ones of the Chuan Border, in Guangdong, slaughtered innocents indiscriminately, killing many good people.

Hong Qigong, who hated evil as an enemy, originally intended to eliminate him with a casual strike, but thought killing him alone would be easy while tracking down the remaining four uglies would be difficult, so he secretly followed, intending to wait until the five uglies gathered and then wipe them out in one fell swoop; unexpectedly, this pursuit from south to north, over a thousand miles, actually led him to Shaanxi.

At this time the four uglies had already gathered, only the chief ugly one had not yet arrived; he heard they were going to assemble on Mount Hua, and he also thought he could enjoy himself greatly there—he had been drooling over the prospect.

Unexpectedly, before the four uglies could even reach Mount Hua, they encountered Feng Yi in a ruined temple at midnight, and he casually killed them.

Hong Qigong himself didn't care, but he overheard Feng Yi from afar saying he would not kill Ouyang Ke, and while Hong Qigong had his own reasoning, he also found Feng Yi's words reasonable, so he didn't bother to argue.

After all, both the righteous and the wicked have their own reasons.

Different paths, no cooperation—this is how it comes about.

Unexpectedly, when Feng Yi went out shouting, Li Mochou suddenly appeared; he naturally knew who this "Scarlet Fairy" was, and she too had come along with the Border Ugly Ones.

However, he also knew this woman, though not of the good sort, kept her promises worth a thousand gold and was a person of feeling, so he resolved to observe her and perhaps make use of her later.

Thus Li Mochou, Cheng Ying, and Lu Wushuang fought fiercely; Feng Yi strangled Li Mochou, then revived her, and the three women departed one after another, all of which he witnessed fully.

Seeing Li Mochou turn from evil to good, Hong Qigong did not wish to make things difficult for her; for those who reform, he had never killed.

Moreover, having busied himself for Feng Yi half a day only to draw water with a bamboo basket—an effort in vain—he felt amused, yet admired Feng Yi's ability to take up and let go.

Hong Qigong deeply understood the allure of the three beauties; for a youth, it was unmatched.

From beginning to end, Feng Yi never harbored a heart of relying on strength to bully the three women; this was extremely rare.

If others possessed Feng Yi's abilities, out of a hundred, eighty or ninety would become lawless villains who disregard morality.

Furthermore, Feng Yi's divine skill of raising the dead made him curious beyond measure.

Having cultivated martial arts to such a level, the divine skills that could pique his curiosity are rare in the world; Feng Yi's Divine Illumination Classic certainly counts as one, so he could not restrain himself and followed up.

Since Feng Yi had seen through him, he made no attempt to hide; his first move was his proudest work, the "Arrogant Dragon Has Regrets" from the Eighteen Dragon-Subduing Palms, yet he gained not even the slightest advantage.

You must know, he personally witnessed Feng Yi using divine skill to revive a dead person, yet he himself still did not gain the upper hand; this youth's inner strength is profound, simply astonishing.

This made Hong Qigong even more curious about Feng Yi's origins.

Feng Yi smiled and said, "I say it's from the Divine Immortal Sect—do you believe it?" He thought to himself, "My foundation comes from the Divine Illumination Classic; although transmitted by Ding Dian, this power and insight are from system transmission, which is not much different from that of a divine immortal."

Hong Qigong spat and cursed, "I believe your fart!"

Feng Yi smiled and said, "Senior, are you deliberately seeking a pretext to test my origins?"

Hong Qigong said, "So what if I am?"

Feng Yi laughed heartily and said, "Actually, my master is no longer in this world; this inner energy is called the Divine Illumination Skill!"

Hong Qigong was bewildered, scratching his head: "Divine Illumination Skill? I've never heard of it!"

He had been renowned for over sixty years, his knowledge vast; he knew all the martial arts of every school under heaven, yet this was the first time he had heard the name Divine Illumination Skill, and he could not help but sigh: "The way of martial arts is indeed boundless, and beyond that there are still higher heavens and greater people!"

Thinking of the second Mount Hua Sword Summit, where the Western Poison Ouyang Feng had reverse-cultivated the Nine Yin True Classic, he and Huang Yaoshi both admitted defeat, giving rise to this sigh.

Moreover, his martial arts had already reached the peak years ago; after the first Mount Hua Sword Summit he trained even harder, his skill becoming ever purer, and he had once heard Guo Jing and Huang Rong recite a small portion of the Nine Yin True Classic, using it to heal wounds; when combined with his original martial arts, this also brought great progress, and he reckoned that even if he encountered the Western Poison again, he would not lose.

He had not expected to encounter such a freak as Feng Yi.

Feng Yi's martial arts cultivation—having begun in the womb—should not be this way; he could not help but admit defeat, saying, "Kid, you can maintain your composure in the face of beauty; such resolve explains your achievements. Wang Zhongyang's heavenly talent, I see, falls far short of yours."

Feng Yi knew that at twenty-one years old, his level of martial arts cultivation was unsurpassed by anyone in ancient or modern times.

But he himself had achieved this through the system; there was really nothing to boast about, nor any need to explain, so he merely gave a faint smile and said nothing more.

Actually, when the Border Ugly Ones came last night, he already knew Hong Qigong had arrived, so he went out shouting; unexpectedly, Li Mochou appeared.

Later, his reason for putting on an act was not only to win the beauties' hearts, but also to give Li Mochou a chance.

Because he understood Hong Qigong's character: as long as one reforms, Hong Qigong, whose duty is to punish evil and eradicate wickedness, would not make things difficult for them. This is the principle of the righteous path; even those guilty of the ten unpardonable sins are not cut off from the road to renewal.

Hong Qigong then turned his gaze to Yang Guo, smiling and said, "Young man surnamed Yang, your lightness skill is not bad either! Who is your aunt? And who is her master?"

Yang Guo admired Hong Qigong's character and respected his martial arts; he did not dare to be presumptuous, bowed deeply to the ground, and said, "I am Yang Guo, paying my respects, senior."

As for his aunt, he did not mention her. He thought, "Feng Yi said that if I want to marry her as my wife, I must not tell outsiders that she is my master, lest she find it difficult. This time my aunt left without a word, perhaps because I am her disciple." Thinking of Xiao Longnv, his heart was stirred; he cried out loudly, fell face down in the snow, and beat the ground like a child.

Seeing that Yang Guo's martial arts were not weak and yet he behaved thus, Hong Qigong was greatly astonished, thinking, "This old beggar merely asked a question—one posing as a divine immortal, the other bursting into tears—has the jianghu changed during these ten-odd years I've not returned to the Central Plains?"

Then he felt amused again, but after hearing a few sounds, pity arose; he drew out his bamboo stick, lightly tapped Yang Guo's arm, and Yang Guo, feeling no great force, fell backward involuntarily.

Given the force of that fall, he should have been unable to get up even crawling, but he had practiced Ouyang Feng's head‑down feet‑up reverse internal energy; in midair he went with the momentum and did a somersault, still standing firmly.

Hong Qigong saw that after a backward somersault he could still stand firm, yet he could not gauge his martial arts level, feeling embarrassed, and couldn't help but look at Yang Guo differently, then asked: 'Ask who your aunt is; if you don't want to say, that's fine, but why are you crying?'

Yang Guo replied: 'I am a wretched soul; living in this world is truly superfluous—I would be better off dead and clean.'

Hearing his bitter words, Hong Qigong felt resentful and sighed.

Yang Guo is only eighteen, in the prime of youth, but with Xiao Longnv gone he is in a state of self‑abandonment, feeling that his parents are dead and his aunt has left him, that in this world no one pities or loves him, making him most pitiable.

Yet he also feels his father was killed by someone connected to his foster father and Guo's mother, and Hong Qigong is Guo's mother's master, leaving him deeply troubled.

Feng Yi saw his thoughts, changed the subject, and pointed at Yang Guo to Hong Qigong, saying: 'Senior Hong, take a good look at him—his parents are closely connected to you and the heroic couple Guo.'

Hong Qigong grew suspicious, studied Yang Guo closely, and asked: 'Your surname is Yang—what are your parents' names?'

Yang Guo replied: 'My late father's given name was just the single character Kang.'

Hong Qigong raised his eyebrows, scrutinized him, and could still see the likeness of Yang Kang in Yang Guo's brows and eyes.

Yang Guo added: 'My late mother's surname was Mu, and her personal name was Nianci.'

Hong Qigong was greatly startled, his eyes widened, and he snapped: 'You say Miss Mu is dead?'

Seeing his reaction, Yang Guo exclaimed: 'Senior Hong, you knew my mother?'

Hong Qigong gazed at Yang Guo, his expression odd—mixed with joy and sorrow—sat on a large stone, then said solemnly: 'I once taught her martial arts for three days; how did she die?'

When Mu Nianci was twelve or thirteen, she once saved a Beggar's Sect disciple; Hong Qigong, seeing her kindness, taught her martial arts for three days, a set of the Carefree Wanderer Fist. This is also why, when she followed Yang Tiexin in the martial‑arts‑for‑marriage trial, traveling seven routes, she met no opponent.

Because Mu Nianci's martial arts surpassed Yang Tiexin's, those who could meet the marriage‑by‑combat condition had to be young; most people her age could not defeat her.

As for his defeat by Yang Kang, it is because Yang Kang's martial arts, compared to top‑tier masters, are greatly lacking; actually, the one who could fight him is the leader of the Taihu bandits, a branch of Shaolin, Lu Yingong, who has no power to strike back, his martial strength being comparable to an eight‑bag elder of the Beggar's Sect; the Seven Heroes of Jiangnan are the elite of Jiangnan martial arts, and he can also contend with them.

Yang Kang's martial arts strength, among his generation, truly makes him an outstanding talent; comparing him to Guo Jing, however, is unfounded.

Because Guo Jing's mind is simple and pure, with a child's heart, in cultivating internal energy he is a one‑in‑a‑million genius; one year of his training equals ten or twenty years for an ordinary person, and once he learns a profound method like the Eighteen Dragon‑Subduing Palms, the internal force stored in his body can be unleashed, making his martial arts strength beyond reckoning.

Upon hearing Hong Qigong's words, Yang Guo felt a heat in his eye sockets; his keen mind had already guessed that Hong Qigong must be related to his mother, and indeed they turned out to be master and disciple.

Given Hong Qigong's stature in the martial world, those who receive his three‑day transmission are few indeed; feeling moved, he sat beside him and recounted in full how his mother died of illness.

After listening, Hong Qigong let out a light sigh, then suddenly cursed: 'Yang Kang is a bastard, while Miss Mu was a fine girl—a fresh flower stuck in cow dung; truly, what a pity.'

Yang Guo's body shuddered, he felt uneasy, and he looked back at Feng Yi.

Feng Yi knew what he was thinking, smiled slightly, gestured with his hand to indicate he could ask freely, then sat to one side, untied his gourd, and began to drink.

Hearing Hong Qigong's scolding, and recalling what Feng Yi had said about his father's misdeeds, Yang Guo felt more convinced, yet he still kowtowed before Hong Qigong and said: 'Grandpa Hong, just what kind of person was my father?'

Hong Qigong asked, bewildered: 'Didn't Miss Mu tell you about it?'

Tears welled in Yang Guo's eyes as he said in a sorrowful voice: 'I, the junior, asked about my father, but she only wept and never spoke of her own affairs.'

Hong Qigong already understood: back then Yang Kang died a miserable death, while Mu Nianci, devoted in love, passed away early—thus fulfilling the saying 'deep affection brings short life.' Gazing into the distance, he sighed: 'The story of your father is long; I don't wish to say more.'

In short, he is fickle, greedy for glory, acknowledges a thief as his father, vile and shameless, schemes against his sworn brother, plots to harm his benefactor, betrays his country for profit; the so‑called lack of filial piety, loyalty, benevolence, righteousness, fraternal duty, trust, propriety, integrity, sense of shame, etc. —all these great evils of humanity, your father has them all!

These words drained all color from Yang Guo's face.

'Besides, I won't say anything else; I only speak of what concerns me, the old beggar. That year your father used a dagger to assassinate my disciple, namely his sworn brother Guo Jing, and also killed Ouyang Ke. To the Seven Masters of Quanzhen he claimed that Huang Yaoshi had killed Guo Jing, and to Ouyang Feng he said that the Quanzhen Sect had killed his son. He not only took him as his master, but also provoked a great war between the two sides.'

He also took my Dog Beating Staff, exploiting the fact that your mother had once received my martial arts instruction and had connections with some of our elders, falsely conveyed my dying wish, and succeeded as chief of the Beggar's Sect.

He framed Guo Jing, Huang Rong, and Huang Yaoshi, joining forces to harm me; he not only sought to kill Guo Jing and Huang Rong, but also colluded with Qiu Qianren of the Iron Palm Sect, intending to drive our sect out of the northern territories occupied by the Jin, causing several of our disciples to die miserably and our prestige to collapse.

Later his plot was exposed, he was rescued by Qiu Qianren, then together with the Western Poison Ouyang Feng he killed the Five Freaks of Jiangnan, framing Huang Yaoshi, which caused a rift between him and me. At Jiaxing's Misty Rain Tower he led Jin troops, colluding with the Old Poison to lay a snake formation; hehe, that day the fog was thick, nobody could see anyone, and it nearly cost the lives of the old beggar, the Quanzhen Sect, Huang Yaoshi, Guo Jing and Huang Rong.

Hong Qigong immersed himself in the past; the scene seemed as vivid as yesterday, a bitter smile touching his lips. In his life he had faced mortal danger twice, both thanks to Ouyang Feng. He then murmured: 'Your father followed the Old Poison to do harm, and himself met a miserable death from his snake venom—this too is just deserts.'

But your mother was kind‑hearted, of good disposition, and beautiful—truly a beauty with both looks and virtue, an excellent woman among mortals. Yet that wretched heaven made her fall in love with your father……

As he spoke, a soft sobbing was suddenly heard; turning his head, he saw that although Yang Guo had heard his father was no good, hearing Hong Qigong's words left him without the slightest doubt, his feelings surged, tears streaming down his face, he fell to his knees with a thump, clutching the elder's cuff tightly, and said: 'Grandfather…'

Hong Qigong sighed and said: 'The past is past; dwelling on it is useless! As long as you do not become like your father, that is enough.' Saying this, he pulled Yang Guo to his feet.

The two locked gazes, their hearts filled with complex, unspeakable feelings.

That day Yang Kang falsely announced Hong Qigong's death, took over as chief, and though the Iron Palm Sect bullied him at the door, he still fawned and begged, causing the deaths of our sect's disciples, the Beggar's Sect's prestige lost, nearly becoming a laughingstock; Hong Qigong resented Yang Kang deeply, yet thinking that he was Mu Nianci's son, he felt a bit closer.

For Hong Qigong, in his lifetime he has transmitted martial arts to others, but aside from his two direct disciples Guo Jing and Huang Rong, he has never exceeded one day.

Mu Nianci received three days of instruction; in Qiu Chuji's eyes, this was hardly different from being a nominal disciple.

Yang Guo, hearing Hong Qigong say that his parents were ill‑matched, felt somewhat uneasy; yet he also thought the remark was not without truth.

If someone else were as wicked as his father, how could he be worthy of such a mother?

Hearing a few 'gugu' sounds, Hong Qigong's belly seemed to rumble like thunder; he burst out laughing, saying: 'Let's not talk about these depressing matters,' patting his round, full belly, he said: 'I see you're hungry too; let's first go have a big meal, sleep soundly, then have a good fight.'

Feng Yi and Yang Guo saw that his whole body was sturdy, but this big belly was somewhat flabby and protruding.

Feng Yi knew Hong Qigong's sole love was eating, so he understood. Yang Guo had just held back his grief; hearing this, he couldn't help laughing, feeling that this old senior was truly extraordinary—eat his fill, sleep enough, then fight.

Hong Qigong lowered his head in thought, then suddenly said: 'Follow me!' Feng Yi and Yang Guo immediately trailed behind.

Hong Qigong headed west all the way, passing a village where he stole a large rooster from a farmer's home and tossed away a gleaming golden dart.

Yang Guo thought this person even more odd. If it were a purchase, he simply seized it without asking; if it were theft, he again threw down a golden dart—enough to buy many chickens.

After stealing the chicken and fleeing the village, the two thought he would barbecue outdoors, but he sprinted several li in one breath; seeing Yang Guo too slow, he even pulled him up.

In the distance a mountain rose stark, its bones rugged, a expanse of white vanishing into the clouds,

Feng Yi felt a chill in his heart and asked: 'Senior, where are you headed?'

Hong Qigong laughed: 'To Mount Hua!'

How could Feng Yi not be familiar with this place—it was where he broke his leg; he immediately halted, shook his head, and said: 'We're here to eat; why go to Mount Hua?'

He realized then that this old beggar intended to go to Mount Hua to eat centipedes; he knew that in the original story Hong Qigong died battling Ouyang Feng on Mount Hua, which was his destined calamity.

Now that he has encountered him, perhaps by not going to Mount Hua he might escape this fate.

How could Hong Qigong know his thoughts? Yet he also stopped, saying: 'I have painstakingly pursued the Five Ugly Ones of the border from Lingnan; I have gone four days and nights without sleep. You killed four of them, and there remains a great ugly one, with whom I agreed to meet on Mount Hua.'

We can easily kill a villain and also find some exotic delicacies to eat; only then would we be worthy of it!' Saying this, he patted his belly.

He added: 'The yin side of Mount Hua is the coldest place under heaven; the centipedes bred there are the most tender and succulent. In Guangdong the weather is hot, all things grow quickly—pork is too fatty, vegetables too fibrous, making the centipede meat coarse.'

Yang Guo heard him speak seriously, seemingly not joking, and felt greatly doubtful.

Feng Yi knew he was a glutton, and only said: "Senior, go ahead then; I and Brother Yang still have matters to attend to."

He thought that as long as Yang Guo wasn't there, even if Hong Qigong met Ouyang Feng, they wouldn't necessarily fight to the death.

Hong Qigong stared, then burst out laughing, saying: "Not bad, Mount Hua has always been a single path; I've seen many heroic fellows who would not flinch at beheading or bloodshed, but to say climbing Mount Hua in heavy snow and eating centipedes with this old beggar—none have done that, heh heh, you two lads, though your martial arts are high, you're ultimately just cowards."

Feng Yi fell for his goading tactic, yet remained unmoved.

However, Yang Guo most hated being looked down upon, and he said loftily: "Brother Feng, why not let us accompany this senior up Mount Hua? What harm could there be?"

Feng Yi furrowed his brows and said: "Brother, Mount Hua is no fun; I once broke a leg there, you know?"

Yang Guo nodded and said: "I know!"

Feng Yi said solemnly: "All I wanted was to go to the summit of Mount Hua to pay respects to the relics of the Hua Shan Sword Discussion, but a gust of mountain wind swept me off the path; if not for my good fortune, I would have been smashed to pieces—I'm truly afraid. Besides, aren't you looking for your aunt?"

Yang Guo was immediately startled, thinking: "Brother Feng's leg was broken by a fall on Mount Hua; I still need to find my aunt—why go to such a dangerous place?" He then said: "Senior Hong, I, the junior, will not go then."

Hong Qigong's face darkened, and he snapped: "You brat, spouting nonsense—this old beggar can't be bothered to argue with you. Yang Guo, come with me!" Saying that, he grabbed Yang Guo and prepared to take him away.

Feng Yi lightning-fast grabbed Yang Guo's other hand, saying: "You must not go!"

His performance, in Hong Qigong's eyes, was nothing but meddlesome interference, only making the old man fly into a rage, his beard and hair trembling, unable to restrain himself, he sent a palm strike toward Feng Yi's face.

Feng Yi threw a punch to block, but before fist and palm met, Hong Qigong suddenly changed his move, turning his palm into a finger jab aimed at Feng Yi's chest; Feng Yi switched to a sweeping palm block.

The two exchanged several moves in a flash, with no actual contact of fists or palms; Yang Guo, standing between them, heard no strong wind nor felt any pain, and hurriedly cried: "Gentlemen, please stop!"

Hong Qigong pressed his right palm toward Feng Yi's left hand; Feng Yi reacted on the spot, while Hong Qigong simultaneously raised his right leg, his knee silently striking Feng Yi's lower abdomen.

In close-quarters combat, the two were so near that this knee strike was unavoidable; yet Feng Yi, unfazed by the change, lifted his right arm, his fingers jabbing Hong Qigong's wrist, his elbow pressing down on Hong Qigong's knee.

Hong Qigong lowered his head and dropped his shoulder, suddenly striking out while still holding Yang Guo's left hand; at the same moment, Feng Yi released Yang Guo, his left hand emitting a soft "si" sound as his finger force flicked toward Hong Qigong's palm.

"Finger-flicking Divine Ability!"

Hong Qigong startled, hastily withdrew his hand, tapped his toes lightly, and shot up into the sky; midair he struck downward with a palm, descending like a heavenly fall—this is the "Flying Dragon in the Sky" move of the Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms.

Feng Yi also let out a long laugh: "What a fine Subduing Dragon Palm!"

His body seemed to be violently yanked from behind, suddenly springing back more than ten feet, not directly meeting the force of Hong Qigong's strike.

Hong Qigong landed lightly, his eyes like bells, and said: "Have you exchanged blows with the Old Heretic Huang?"

Feng Yi nodded and said: "Indeed!"

For a moment, only the sound of wind blowing snow could be heard, a soft rustling.

Yang Guo examined the two closely; both wore solemn expressions, evidently having just experienced a fierce dragon‑tiger battle, each knowing they had met a formidable opponent—before his thoughts could turn again, he saw Hong Qigong snort and say: "Boy, why don't you want me and Yang Guo to go up Mount Hua? What's the real reason? Don't spout nonsense about being blown down by the wind."

Feng Yi remained silent for a while, then sighed: "Because a few days ago I met Guo the Great Hero and his wife, learning they were issuing hero invitations far and wide, hoping to unite the martial world's heroes to resist the Mongols. And besides Chief Hong, there are no two others qualified to serve as the martial alliance's leader."

"If you were to go to such a perilous place as Mount Hua and suffer an accident, how could I, the junior, bear the responsibility?"

"And if ill‑intentioned people were to exploit it, claiming I caused your death—just as Yang Kang once framed Huang the Island Master—I would hardly be able to clear my name."

Upon hearing this, Hong Qigong was instead left stunned.

Yet he still couldn't understand one matter; he raised his white brows, his face showing anger, and coldly snorted: "Young Feng, Mount Hua is where I held two sword discussions—how could it possibly take my life? You still look down on me in your heart!"

Feng Yi shook his head: "Chief Hong's martial arts are peerless, known to all; yet even a gutter can capsize, a level road can cause a fall—such things happen often. Given Chief Hong's venerable reputation, if he were to meet with misfortune at a crucial moment of the heroes' gathering, wouldn't that greatly dampen the vigor of the Central Plains? Could you not first endure a little?"

Hong Qigong coldly snorted: "Boy, if you've mastered all this martial skill, what is it for?"

Feng Yi was stunned.

Hong Qigong coldly snorted: "You can't even say, can you?"

Having said that, Hong Qigong's eyes flashed with divine light, then he turned his gaze to Yang Guo's face, his expression stern, and continued: "This old beggar is over eighty, with not many good days left, while you are in your prime; now the Great Song dynasty is as precarious as a stack of eggs, and a true man ought to roam freely, defending the country and protecting the people."

"You all either rack your brains to please women, or pine for them lovelorn, willing to live or die—how is that the conduct of a true man?"

Feng Yi felt his heart quicken, a flash of cold light passing through his eyes.

Yang Guo's face grew even redder; Hong Qigong's words were something he had never even considered—what Mongols, what Han—yet because Xiao Longnv had several times given rise to thoughts of suicide, it seemed that when he told Feng Yi about his affair with his aunt, Hong Qigong had overheard it all.

Suddenly a long laugh rang out, sounding like metal striking metal, akin to a cracked bell, sharp and piercing; even distant birds were startled, taking flight with a clamor.

The few present jumped at the sound; Feng Yi looked toward Hong Qigong, whose face grew ever more peculiar, as if recalling something extremely distant.

They turned their heads and looked; only the sounds of "duo, duo, duo" were heard, and from the woods beside the left side of the road a figure emerged—his body inverted, each hand gripping a stone, he walked using the stones as supports, light and effortless, his speed astonishing, surpassing ordinary people's normal running.

In the blink of an eye, that person had arrived nearby; it was none other than the Western Poison, Ouyang Feng.

Feng Yi wondered in his heart whether these two old fellows were destined to die together; Yang Guo, overjoyed to the point of losing himself, suddenly leapt out and laughed loudly: "Dad, dad, dad, how did you come?"

Hearing Yang Guo address him thus, Hong Qigong was even more astonished, thinking: "Yang Kang killed Ouyang Feng's son, and Yang Kang's son again calls Ouyang Feng 'dad'?"

Feng Yi laughed: "He is his adoptive father."

Hong Qigong uttered an "oh," now understanding.

Ouyang Feng flipped upright, glanced at Yang Guo and Feng Yi, then turned his gaze to Hong Qigong.

Although he had exchanged blows with Feng Yi—sometimes present, sometimes absent—his enmity with Hong Qigong spanned decades as mortal foes, hatred deeply etched in his mind; at this sight of a faint acquaintance, though he did not know why, seeing him naturally provoked his anger.

Ouyang Feng glanced askance at Hong Qigong and barked: "Hey, what's your name?"

Upon hearing that, Hong Qigong also saw his bewildered expression, knowing that Ouyang Feng had gone mad over ten years ago and never recovered, and said: "I am Ouyang Feng; what are you called?"

Ouyang Feng's heart jolted; he recalled Yang Guo once telling him that "Ouyang Feng" was his own name, and he shook his head: "No. I am the one called Ouyang Feng."

Hong Qigong laughed heartily: "Wrong! Your name is Stupid Toad."

Ouyang Feng was naturally very familiar with the two characters "toad"; they sounded somewhat similar, yet upon reflection they were not the same.

Seeing Ouyang Feng standing there foolishly, a flash of ferocity suddenly appeared in his eyes; he was about to erupt into violence, knowing this outbreak would be like moving mountains and overturning seas, unstoppable, so he secretly readied himself.

Sure enough, Ouyang Feng let out a fierce roar and lunged forward, slashing with a palm; Hong Qigong dared not delay, responding with the technique of the Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms.

A muffled thunder‑like burst sounded; Ouyang Feng shifted a step sideways, Hong Qigong also retreated a step, and laughed: "Stupid Toad, you really are as mad as ever, undiminished from back then!"

Hong Qigong confident in his deep inner strength, which had continued to improve over decades, while the Western Poison's madness lasting over ten years made his survival a miracle, his inner strength surely diminished—yet he found he still gained no advantage whatsoever.

Ouyang Feng snarled fiercely: "Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms!" and lashed out another palm.

Hong Qigong laughed ha‑ha, met with his left palm; their palm forces met, Hong Qigong's force shifted from issuing to withdrawing, he turned his foot—yet unexpectedly Ouyang Feng shifted his steps, turned his body, and retreated lightly.

Hong Qigong thought: "It's been over ten years since we last saw each other; this old poison guy is crazy yet not dead, that in itself is a marvel; his internal energy hasn't diminished but increased, that's another marvel; and his action now is yet another marvel."

Hong Qigong, confident in his divine skill, had thought that Ouyang Feng's mind was not present, so in exchanging moves he would surely be inferior to when he was clear-headed; this move was originally a trap; once Ouyang Feng engaged, he would inevitably be dragged by the inward contracting force; then his right palm would vigorously emit outward, naturally catching him off guard, enabling him to strike the opponent unexpectedly and in one fell swoop secure victory.

Unexpectedly, Ouyang Feng avoided combat, and all his follow-up moves came to nothing; evidently this old fellow was crazy, his fighting skill not forgotten at all, he immediately mustered twelvefold spirit and focused to engage.

To lose to a madman in front of two young people would mean Hong Qigong would have no place left in the martial world.

(End of chapter)