Chapter 136

The Scarlet Fairy Li Mochou's fame resounded; in the martial world none did not know her face was like peach and plum, her heart like a scorpion. Hearing her speak these few words with such grandeur, all around fell silent.

Because Li Mochou's martial arts were so high, the heroes reckoned that only Hong Qigong, Guo Jing, and Guo's wife, even if unharmed, could possibly match her; the odds of victory or defeat were likely fifty-fifty.

However, Feng Yi's remark that they were of the same generation and similar age, and his request that the elders and host serve as witnesses, disqualified several people from making a move.

But if one does not accept his words, let alone mention that Feng Yi alone stormed the Mongol camp, swept aside five top masters, shattered the army formation, already shocking the martial world and becoming legend; even with the abilities of Hong Qigong and Guo Jing, should they turn against Feng Yi, he would surely escape unharmed, the consequences being obvious.

Moreover, the martial world's custom of making friends through martial arts is known to all; Li Mochou's challenge to Huang Rong was something Feng Yi had already raised when he stepped down, so they naturally could not take the field.

Hong Qigong closed his eyes, stroked his beard, and smiled faintly: "Li lass, your martial arts are strong, you are quick-witted, indeed you could be a match for Rong'er; your conduct in life will be judged by public opinion, I will not quarrel with you, but this old beggar does not kill those who repent."

Today, little Feng, for your sake, has gone about in a roundabout way; you must not disappoint his painstaking effort!

Li Mochou argued forcefully, but how could she shake Hong Qigong's mind? He is naturally merciful; even for those guilty of the ten unforgivable sins, if they sincerely repent, he will not deal a lethal blow.

In the past, the hermit immortal old monster Liang Ziyong harvested yin to supplement yang, ruining many women's bodies; but when Liang Ziyong begged for mercy, he was merely stripped of his hair, and Hong Qigong then had him properly settle those women, forbidding any further offense.

Therefore he did not kill Ouyang Ke, but saved Ouyang Feng; on the summit of Mount Hua, intending to slay the Han traitor Qiu Qianren, yet after he suddenly awakened, he said no more—all this simply stems from his nature.

Li Mochou's face showed gloom; she lowered her head and let out a long sigh, saying: "I, a mere girl, have erred in a single thought, living amidst hatred, stepping onto the wrong path…"

As she spoke, she blinked her eyes and said: "But now, thinking back, if not for those past causes, how would I know that someone in this world still cares for me?" On her slightly blushing lovely face, a charming smile already appeared.

At this moment, she had less ferocity and indeed possessed a touch of fairy-like grace.

Feng Yi reached out one hand and grasped her wrist, feeling her palm icy cold, her palm full of sweat—evidently her earlier words had also made her extremely nervous.

Suddenly a light laugh was heard; Zhu Ziliu's robes fluttered, elegant and free of dust, he stood poised in the hall.

Li Mochou saw his light and agile movements, and was secretly startled.

Zhu Ziliu laughed and said: "Then let me learn the martial arts of the Ancient Tomb school!"

Li Mochou gave a cold snort and raised her voice: "Are you the one unanimously recommended by everyone?"

As long as it is not Hong Qigong or Guo Jing making a move, Li Mochou fears nothing; but she still wants to be clear, for she does not want an endless fight.

Zhu Ziliu pondered briefly, then said: "I have always loved poetry and couplets, writing and reading; my martial arts are rather crude, how dare I be the one unanimously recommended?"

He paused, then gave a faint smile: "However, you take your defeat to Master Huang as a great shame; you harmed my martial brother and his wife, which is also an insult to my benefactor teacher; though I am untalented, I must not shirk the duty."

Huang Rong called out loudly: "Brother Zhu, your One Yang Finger is marvelous, and Daoist friend Li's Ancient Tomb martial arts are exquisite beyond compare; we shall certainly watch with anticipation, so do not be modest."

The heroes already shouted in unison: "Lady Guo is right… Mr. Zhu, you will have to bear the burden…"

The martial arts of the Dali Duan sect emphasize comprehension. When Zhu Ziliu first entered the Southern Emperor's school, his martial arts ranked last among the four great disciples of fishing, woodcutting, farming, and reading; ten years later he rose to second place, and now his martial arts far surpass those of his three senior brothers.

Master Yideng treated his four disciples equally, imparting all martial arts wholeheartedly, but later it was Zhu Ziliu who understood the most, especially his One Yang Finger practice, which had reached a marvelous state.

At present his martial arts still fall short of Guo Jing, Ma Yu, and Qiu Chuji, but he has already surpassed Wang Chuyi, Hao Datong, and others, making him a match for Li Mochou.

"I am grateful for your esteem!"

Zhu Ziliu said this while making a deep bow, took out a brush from his sleeve, drew a few empty circles in the air, and coldly said to Li Mochou: "Although I have not come this time to contend for fame, I presume to say that, based on your deeds, Li Mochou, being able to slay you is also one of my wishes for this occasion."

Li Mochou's eyes turned fierce, and she snorted: "Surname Zhu, I have always found your Dali Duan clan an eyesore; let's see who kills whom!"

Though she said that with her mouth, she knew Zhu Ziliu was not to be taken lightly. Focusing her gaze on his brush, she saw a bamboo tube with goat hair, the tip stained with half an inch of ink, really nothing special, quite unlike the pure steel needles used in the martial world for striking pressure points.

The steward of Lu Manor directed the servants, moved aside the banquet tables, clearing space for seven or eight tables in the hall, added red candles, and illuminated the center of the hall as brightly as daytime.

Then Zhu Ziliu laughed and said: "Li Mochou, you have already lost on the character of love; if you lose again in martial arts, how pitiable! I do not like to beat a drowning dog, so make your move!"

Feng Yi glanced over and saw Li Mochou's face covered in frost, her eyes flashing with sharp light; the heroes, upon meeting her gaze, felt their hearts tremble.

Yet Li Mochou slowly said: "Zhu Ziliu, since twenty years ago I have disliked your Dali Duan clan; whether in speech or martial arts, you are utterly false, loathsome."

"'Each to each,' Zhu Ziliu said with a gentle smile and leisurely gaze: 'Even if my Dali Duan clan is false, it cannot compare to you, this madwoman, vicious and cruel, who not only brings shame to the Ancient Tomb school but also makes all the heroes of the martial world feel ashamed.'"

"You speak grandly without shame!" Li Mochou whisked her whisk, and a streak of snow-white lightning, like a soaring dragon, shot across the sky.

Zhu Ziliu swayed his head and body, raised his hand to block, with a 'hiss' of sharp sound, he shifted sideways and stepped, saying: "My brush can sweep away a thousand troops; today I shall subdue demons and evil spirits, truly delightful!" As he spoke, the brush tip darted forward swiftly.

With each utterance, each word he spoke, the tip of his brush pointed to a major acupoint on Li Mochou; the tip was like purple lightning flashing, piercing clouds and splitting water, truly formidable.

"'What a big mouth! Even Master Yideng cannot subdue his inner demon, needing to live in seclusion; what level of cultivation do you have?' Li Mochou said lightly, her whisk unfurling swiftly, thousands of threads like snow-white feathers, though without edge or blade, no matter how fierce the opponent's brush technique, upon contact its sharpness vanished."

The two fought while trading barbs, but the heroes all knew that they were exposing each other's wounds merely to disturb the opponent's mind.

In a duel between masters, it suffices for one side's mind to be disturbed, their internal energy flow impure, and they have already lost more than half.

"The Stele of Fang Xuanling." Li Mochou narrowed her eyes suddenly and said: "Zhu Ziliu, this move of yours is far stronger than your senior brother's!"

"'Thank you for the praise!' Zhu Ziliu gave a light laugh: 'You are not lacking in ink either!'"

The Dali Duan clan originally hailed from Liangzhou's Wuwei Commandery; after gaining the state of Dali and proclaiming themselves emperors, their ancestors, though originally Xianbei Tuoba, had long intermarried with Han people, received Sinicization, and became no different from the Han, early on regarding themselves as Han, and the Sinicized cultural artifacts were broadcast throughout the southern borders.

Zhu Ziliu once served as chancellor of the Dali state; he is a well-learned man of extraordinary talent, the foremost calligrapher of the southern realm; though he studied martial arts, he never abandoned literature, and later his martial arts grew ever more refined, to the point that he naturally integrated the One Yang Finger with calligraphy into a single discipline.

This skill is his own creation; even if others' martial arts are strong, if they lack a literary foundation in their belly, they cannot truly resist his path where literature contains martial arts, martial arts contain literature, and the union of literature and martial arts reaches a sublime level.

Within calligraphy lie pressure-point techniques, and within pressure-point techniques lies calligraphy; truly they are silver hooks and iron strokes, vigorous and stark, yet within their grandeur also hides a graceful, bookish air.

Although Li Mochou does not understand the subtleties of the One Yang Finger, she has studied literature and martial arts under her master since childhood; though she does not claim to be versed in every poem, lyric, song, and fu, she knows them all, and naturally knows the Stele of Fang Xuanling. She anticipated that after his horizontal stroke, she would follow with the vertical stroke.

The whisk in her hand followed Zhu Ziliu's brush strokes, swaying left and right; the silver threads fluttered like the heavenly maiden weaving brocade or the jade maiden casting a shuttle, light as drifting smoke, lingering and elusive, truly marvelous and unpredictable, wondrously changing.

Her whisk technique also derived from the Ancient Tomb school's Jade Maiden Sword Technique.

Although everyone knew that both masters' lineages were extraordinary and none weak, upon seeing such marvelous martial arts, they all secretly exclaimed in wonder.

Guo Fu walked to her mother's side and asked: "Mother, what is the Stele of Fang Xuanling?" Huang Rong watched, feeling at ease, but did not answer.

As it turns out, the Stele of Fang Xuanling is a tablet inscribed by the Tang dynasty official Chu Suiliang, a masterpiece of regular script.

Ancients praised Chu's calligraphy as 'heavenly maidens scattering flowers,' his script sturdy yet graceful, his bearing lively, every stroke soaring aloft, fully exploiting the subtleties of lifting and pressing, controlling and releasing. Zhu Ziliu's 'One Yang Writing Finger,' using the brush as a finger, is likewise strictly disciplined in each move, as flawless as regular script; yet in his heart surged a tide, and he thought: 'No wonder Li Mochou's might shakes the martial world; she truly is extraordinary. How laughable that I just spouted boastful words, fought dozens of exchanges, and still could not overcome her whisk!'

Li Mochou also felt great admiration, thinking: "No wonder the martial arts of the Dali Duan clan have been renowned through the ages and admired by all. This person, even now deploying his techniques with ease, already possesses such power; if he were truly to fight me to the death, even if I did not lose, I would still find him hard to deal with. From this, the reputation of the Southern Emperor is indeed no mere fluke."

In the blink of an eye, the two advanced and retreated, alternating attack and defense, having exchanged nearly a hundred moves; the crowd saw the brush and whisk sometimes intertwine like two swords, sometimes like a spear breaking a shield, at times showing weakness, at times displaying strength, their wondrous changes surpassing even swords and blades.

The strong gusts generated by the weapons filled the hall that could hold hundreds; those of lesser martial skill could not stand in the hall, retreating step by step into the courtyard.

Feng Yi was originally just pouring wine and drinking quickly, but the more he watched, the more astonished he became, for he noticed that Li Mochou's eyes held light yet gathered spirit, her aura greatly diminished, while Zhu Ziliu's eyes bore a tangible sense of chaos, clearly indicating his internal strength surpassed Li Mochou's.

He immediately understood: Li Mochou's meridians had been completely severed by her own palm, her strength greatly diminished; although she had practiced the tendon‑changing and bone‑forging chapter of the Nine Yin True Classics, her internal energy had recovered somewhat, but too little time had passed, and her strength was not what it was in the original plot; she smiled and said: "You both have fine skills; this round counts as a draw."

"A draw?" Zhu Ziliu's eyes changed, he shouted loudly, "Not even close!" Suddenly he flung his headgear to the ground, his long sleeves flying, he ran wildly, his body like a gust of wind, whirling around Li Mochou at high speed, unleashing moves with no regard for form.

Only see him acting mad and frenzied, like drunk, like possessed, his brush intent flowing freely, his finger moving like dragons and snakes.

Guo Fu exclaimed in shock and laughed while asking: "Mom, has he gone mad?"

Huang Rong said: "Hmm, if he drinks another three cups, his brushwork will be even better." She picked up the wine jug, poured three cups of wine, and called out: "Brother Zhu, please have three more cups to liven things up." With her left hand holding a cup, she flicked it with her right middle finger, and the wine cup flew steadily and levelly over.

Zhu Ziliu raised his brush and pressed down, forcing Li Mochou back a step, snatched up the wine cup and drained it in one gulp. Huang Rong then flicked the second and third cups over in succession.

Seeing the two urging wine before the formation, Li Mochou did not even take them seriously, intending to knock the cup away, but Huang Rong, coordinating with Zhu Ziliu's brush intent, always seized the gaps to flick out wine cups, leaving her unable to strike them.

Having fought hundreds of battles big and small in her life, Li Mochou knew Zhu Ziliu's martial skill was not inferior to hers, his internal strength even superior, but if she insisted on striking the wine, it might give him an opening to defeat her; she therefore let him drink, pondering how to overcome him and win.

Zhu Ziliu downed three cups in a row and exclaimed: "Many thanks, what a splendid flicking-finger divine ability!"

Huang Rong laughed: "What a sharp 'Self-Commentary'!"

Zhu Ziliu smiled, thinking: "I, Zhu, have always considered myself clever, yet I always fall short by a plan compared to this little girl. I have painstakingly researched this unique skill for over ten years, and she saw through it at a glance."

It turned out that what he was writing at that moment was precisely Tang dynasty Zhang Xu's "Self-Commentary". Zhang Xu was famed as the "Sage of Grass Script", the holy one of cursive writing. Du Fu's poem "The Eight Immortals of the Wine Cup" says: "After three cups, Zhang Xu's sage cursive is transmitted; he removes his cap, bares his head before nobles and princes, and his brush sweeps across the paper like clouds and smoke."

Huang Rong urged Zhu Ziliu to drink three cups of wine: first, it matched his identity in using this skill; second, it increased his intoxication, making his brushwork sharper; third, it dampened Li Mochou's spirit, to repay her for pressing him hard just before.

Women's minds are naturally narrow, and Huang Rong and Li Mochou are especially adept at this.

Seeing Zhu Ziliu's brush move like dragons and snakes, either a stored strike after breaking the cauldrons and sinking the boats, or a light tap exploiting an opening, this cursive script also caused the brush shadow to obscure the sky and cover the sun, leaving her unaware where it would land; after a moment's thought, she swayed her body and began to circle the arena.

The lightness skill of the Ancient Tomb is unmatched under heaven; although Zhu Ziliu's internal strength is deep and his lightness skill not weak, he still cannot catch up to Li Mochou, and even the most exquisite finger-brush technique sees its power sharply reduced.

Seeing this, Zhu Ziliu could not help but angrily say: "Li Mochou, if you have the guts, don't run!" Li Mochou sneered: "Why don't you catch up to me? Is your lightness skill inferior?"

Zhu Ziliu let out a long whistle, launched himself several zhang away, his brush in hand moving with the vigor of a soaring dragon, graceful and bending, he slashed toward Li Mochou.

Li Mochou did not try to block it head-on, she retreated lightly, her posture graceful, dancing with the wind.

Suddenly hearing Zhu Ziliu shout loudly, he exhaled and thrust out a palm, which he sent forth chopping.

As Li Mochou's body was drifting backward, suddenly her body sank and she descended slowly to the ground.

Such peerless lightness skill left all the masters present stunned; after a while, the crowd burst into applause.

Only see Li Mochou drifting east, swaying west, as if making large circles without touching the ground, she would seize an opening to strike; if a move missed, she would merely graze and depart, never engaging in prolonged combat.

Although Zhu Ziliu's maneuvering was strong, he could not move as freely as she could within the hall, always unable to catch up.

Onlookers, after seeing the two circle several times, were astonished; they saw Li Mochou's lightness skill so strong it seemed like rising from the earth, and no matter how Zhu Ziliu struck with palm or brush, he could not even touch her body.

By this point, everyone could see that each had their own strengths in martial arts, and neither could overcome the other.

Guo Jing whispered to Huang Rong: "Li Mochou's heart is cruel and vicious, her martial arts are formidable; if you were to fight her, what chance would you have of winning?"

Huang Rong laughed: "Not much, but better than nothing!"

=9+ book bar

Guo Jing said: "Rong'er, when you meet her in the future, dodge if you can!"

Huang Rong gave him a sideways glance and said: "Really, the older you get, the smaller your courage." She knew her husband was concerned for her; as the saying goes, concern leads to confusion, and no one can make a fair judgment.

Guo Jing gave a simple smile and scratched his head.

At that very moment, only hearing Huang Rong utter an "yi" sound, Guo Jing turned his head to look, only to see Li Mochou's horsetail whisk wrapping around Zhu Ziliu's brush, pulling it aside; Zhu Ziliu seemed to want to withdraw the brush and change his move, but could not retrieve it, and Li Mochou's left palm had already been pressed against his chest.

Unable to neutralize Li Mochou's sticking and adhering force, Zhu Ziliu praised with a "good" character, then his left hand suddenly executed the "Night Devil Probes the Sea" move, his finger pointing toward Li Mochou's lower abdomen at the "Qi Sea" acupoint.

This move is one that the opponent must necessarily defend against, and it is also a tactic that could injure both sides. Whether Li Mochou's Red Silk Divine Palm strikes Zhu Ziliu's chest, or his finger pierces Li Mochou, both would suffer light to severe injury, possibly death.

Feng Yi raised his sword-brows, his feet not moving, his legs not bending, appearing like a ghost; with a single extension of his arm, he seized Li Mochou's shoulder and lifted her over.

Seeing Li Mochou possess divine power yet unable to dodge, everyone was shocked and turned pale; Zhu Ziliu, unable to pull back his hand in time, poked a finger into Feng Yi's abdomen, feeling his fingertip grow hot, he stumbled back three steps, and could not help but silently utter "ashamed".

His movements were swift and agile beyond compare; others only thought he was repelled by Feng Yi's internal force rebounding, shaking him away, but they did not expect that upon touching Feng Yi's body, he would naturally drift back.

Merely, Zhu Ziliu's One Yang Finger had struck Feng Yi's vital abdominal spot, yet he still felt the recoil force, while his expression remained unchanged; having painstakingly practiced this supreme skill for decades, as if it were a juggling act, he clasped his hands and said: "Sir, you are a person of considerable standing in the martial world; does such a sudden, silent strike not make you lose your dignity?"

Feng Yi laughed: "Your victory or defeat is still undecided; it's just right to stop here—do you really have to end up both losing?"

Most of those present were veteran wanderers of the jianghu, each with broad experience; they had already seen that Zhu Ziliu and Li Mochou were truly evenly matched, and could not say that Feng Yi favored either side.

Because he had borne Zhu Ziliu's finger with his own body, he had already given ample face; after all, to claim he could not dodge or block it is something nobody would believe.

Suddenly Li Mochou said: "Zhu Ziliu, after I mastered my arts and roamed the world for half a century, aside from the old masters East Heretic and West Poison, I have never lost even a single move or half a stance to any outsider."

"You can fight me to a draw; you are no disgrace as a disciple of Master Yideng. Yesterday, in my urgency, if my words were improper and I offended your master, I hereby apologize to you."

Zhu Ziliu fixed his gaze and saw Li Mochou's face bearing a half-smile, her eyes secretly gazing at Feng Yi, brows and corners of her eyes full of feeling; obviously she was apologizing because of Feng Yi.

Before Zhu Ziliu could speak, the Wu brothers felt their hearts blaze with anger; Wu Xiuwen snorted coldly and said: "Li Mochou, even if you and Feng Yi have silver tongues and lotus blossoms, speaking heaven-shaking, earth-shattering words, it's merely specious argumentation; you want us brothers not to avenge our mother's murder—don't even think about it!"

Feng Yi burst out laughing heartily and said: "Well said, absolutely right; you finally see her engaging in specious argumentation, but what can you do about it? You brothers want to take revenge, leaving your grandmaster and master—can you actually pull it off?"

Moreover, specious argumentation is Lady Guo's divine technique; if she were not indisposed, would she merely let Li Mochou claim superiority in words alone?

"Today I will teach you a saying: specious argumentation is also a means to overcome the enemy and secure victory."

Huang Rong thought it was not bad; if she were not afraid that pressing Li Mochou would make her ashamed and angry, forcing her to fight, she would have no rival in the realm of specious argumentation!

The Wu brothers, however, showed a look of sorrow and indignation; they also knew their master's wife was an expert in specious argumentation.

Feng Yi suddenly swayed, sloshed a bowl of wine at the table's edge, and laughed: "I know you all think Li Mochou was just spouting nonsense just now, with many of you dissatisfied; actually, I also think she was switching concepts."

The crowd was bewildered, blank and stunned, yet they heard Feng Yi say: "Different positions, different views—that's only natural. Speaking of our gathering today to resist the Mongols, it is because the Mongols invaded our territory, slaughtered our people, let the remnants run wild, brutal and lawless; we are all hot-blooded men, indignant in our hearts, right?"

"Not bad!"

"That's correct!"

The heroes all responded in like manner.

Feng Yi drained the wine in his hand and then said: "Regarding the invasion of Song, everyone knows how the Mongols describe it, right?"

"What description?"

Feng Yi said: "Kublai Khan told me that our great Song has a foolish ruler and corrupt officials, the people live in dire straits, while his great Mongol realm is orderly and harmonious; they raise troops to attack Song, claiming it is to follow heaven and respond to the people, to comfort the populace and punish the guilty!"

"Tsk tsk, that talk makes it sound as if he himself were the savior, while we who resist are all ignorant of the times, damned obstructers of historical progress!"

"Damn his dog's fart!"

"Screw his mother!"

The heroes were mostly coarse people, trading insults back and forth; their scolding was so harsh it made some women blush.

There are no specific names; 'heroes' and 'women' are generic terms.

Feng Yi pressed his hands down and spoke loudly: 'We are Han people; we would certainly disagree with this claim, but what is the standard for verifying right and wrong here?'

The only name is Feng Yi (as given); 'Han people' is a generic term.

His deep inner strength quelled all the noise.

No specific names; 'he' refers to Feng Yi but is not a name.

If the Mongols invade the Song and we are defeated, we would claim the Mongols are brutal and lack popular support, and we would naturally be right.

We should include 'Mongol' and 'Song' as proper nouns referring to the Mongol people and the Song dynasty.

But what if they conquer the Great Song? Wouldn't their claim then be that they have the Mandate of Heaven and the people's backing?

The name 'Great Song' refers to the Song dynasty, already noted; 'Mandate of Heaven' is a concept, and 'the people's expectation' is a phrase.

Even if we refuse to accept it, it's merely pointless anger.

No names.

Therefore, it's not a matter of talk, but of fact.

No.

Because in the world, the power to interpret everything ultimately lies with the victor; this is both the truth that resides only on the sword's edge and the principle that the victor becomes king while the loser becomes a bandit.

No.

Wen Dunru's face darkened like soy‑braised pig liver, and he snapped: 'Are you saying the world has only brute force and no justice?'

The name is Wu Dunru (pinyin).

Feng Yi said in a deep voice: 'Justice certainly exists!'

Names: Feng Yi.

But this requires someone to pursue it!

No.

Who will pursue it?

No.

How should we pursue it?

No.

Without brute force, you want to seek justice? You're probably overthinking it.

No.

Li Mochou interjected: "Back when I killed the couple Lu Liding at Lu Manor, Old Master Ke stepped forward, but his martial arts were inferior to mine. I kill people like hemp, yet I showed mercy, striking his vital point with my palm, without issuing force—why?"

I'm not trying to flatter myself; it's not that I admire his chivalry, but I fear offending Guo the Great Hero and his wife—otherwise the Seven Freaks of Jiangnan would have been wiped out long ago, and there would be no Hero Ke today.

Upon hearing this, Guo Jing's heart shuddered. He recalled that his master had once clashed with Li Mochou, indeed was no match, and had survived only because she showed mercy; otherwise his master...

Feng Yi smiled faintly: "So, the fact that might protects people is something most are unwilling to admit, but it exists!"

Moreover, Mochou just provoked Lady Guo like that, and you have no recourse—why?

It's not that her martial arts are unmatched; it's that you cling to rigid conventions, always thinking about martial arts titles and the rules of the jianghu, which binds your own hands and feet.

I believe that if a few Mongol barbarians came now to contend for the martial arts alliance leadership, with all you heroes gathered, they would still come and go as they please. And this is not because our strength is inferior, but because we insist on benevolence and righteousness, on observing propriety, and cannot act like barbarians, lest we be laughed at!

Feng Yi had just let Li Mochou go, wanting to see how this group of martial arts heroes would respond, but the outcome disappointed him greatly, and the words he had long kept hidden naturally spilled out.

Everyone heard it, faces flushed with embarrassment; Li Mochou had just argued fallaciously here, and though her martial arts were formidable, she could not withstand a combined assault, yet they had nothing but anger and no recourse.

But if you claim to fear Feng Yi, it only reveals your own cowardice—what are cowards doing at a heroes' gathering?

"That's wrong," Zhu Ziliu said calmly. "If a Mongol truly dared to vie for the martial arts alliance leadership, it would be like plucking a general's head from a million-strong army—requiring extraordinary courage."

"At the heroes' gathering, heroes come first; if we all rush forward, we not only lack magnanimity, but also reveal our inner fear—defeated in heart before the Mongols even act!"

"Preposterous!"

As Feng Yi spoke these words, Zhu Ziliu's eyes flashed with sharp light,

Feng Yi's gaze was sharp as a needle, piercing Zhu Ziliu's face; the hall's atmosphere instantly turned cold. Guo Jing unconsciously drew his qi throughout his body, fearing that if Zhu Ziliu and Feng Yi clashed, he might be struck dead by a palm.

Then Feng Yi chuckled: "Magnanimity, inner fear? Wake up—now it's a clash between two tribes, a life-and-death struggle; the Mongols will stop at nothing to win, so what's the point of talking about empty magnanimity here, using it to fight them?"

Huang Rong furrowed her brows, then said calmly: "Hero Feng, you seem to be defending Li Mochou today, but your true motive lies elsewhere—like the old drunkard whose interest isn't the wine."

Feng Yi snorted: "My thoughts can't be hidden from Lady Guo!" His reason for letting Li Mochou go was half mischievous, half to make the heroes see plainly that your ways won't work—so that Guo Jing and Huang Rong would follow his opinion.

He immediately sank his face and raised his voice: "Indeed, the grudges between Li Mochou and the martial arts heroes are utterly irrelevant to me, Feng Yi."

"If I were only protecting her, I'd simply say: let anyone seeking revenge bear it through me, Feng Yi—what could you do to me?"

"You're too arrogant!!" Guo Fu exclaimed angrily: "With such contempt for others, aren't you afraid?"

"Perhaps!" Feng Yi glanced at her, his expression unchanged: "Back then, Yang Kang was poisoned by Ouyang Feng's snake venom at the Jiaxing Iron Spear Temple. Jin's Prince Zhao, Wanyan Honglie, failing to find an antidote, said he would seek a renowned physician, but Ouyang Feng declared, 'Who could cure the poison of this old venomous one, and who would dare to?'"

"Was he mad or not?"

"Lady Guo, is that how it was?"

Huang Rong gave a slight nod.

Feng Yi then turned to Guo Jing: "Back when Guo the Great Hero led the western expedition, Ouyang Feng said, 'Don't just look at your hand holding the tiger tally, commanding the army—but I, Ouyang Feng, come and go as I please, regarding tens of thousands of troops as nothing—aren't you devoid of respect for others?'"

Guo Jing frowned slightly, yet also nodded.

Feng Yi remained calm and spoke at length: "If an old man like him can be so arrogant, I, Feng Yi, am only twenty‑one—what's wrong with being a bit arrogant?"

Anyone capable of harming Li Mochou is a present‑day supreme master; if she suffers any mishap, even if I don't know who did it, I will settle the score with their kin!

"Who dares to lay a hand on her?"

"If all I wanted was to protect her, would I need to go through all this trouble?"

I merely want everyone to realize that once you cling to rigid conventions and obsess over benevolence and righteousness, even with a host of heroes gathered, you stand no chance against little Li Mochou, let alone the Mongols!

"If this mindset doesn't change, I see the heroes' gathering as nothing more than a final revelry for lost souls and wandering ghosts!"

(End of chapter)