Chapter 183

Normally, with Murong Fu's reputation, he would never quarrel with a girl.

But now he is holding a bellyful of anger.

Because at the end of last year, Qingcheng Sect Leader Sima Wei and Hidden Ox Sect's Ke Bai sui both died under his signature technique, which is said to be using his own methods against him done by Gusu Murong Fu.

As for this, Murong Fu not only didn't care, but thought it increased his reputation, also considering it a good thing.

But unexpectedly, with the deaths of Shaolin Temple's Master Xuánbēi and Beggars' Gang Deputy Leader Ma Dayuan also blamed on him, Murong Fu could no longer sit still.

Shaolin Temple is the number one sect under heaven, Beggars' Gang is the number one gang; how could Murong Fu provoke them?

If this matter isn't cleared up, let alone restoring the country, the Murong family's survival in the martial world would be impossible.

Having no choice, Murong Fu then left Swallow's Hut to investigate the truth, and happened to encounter Western Xia Eastern Expedition General Helian Tieshu leading Western Xia First-Rank Hall experts, who were giving trouble to the Beggars' Gang, using the poison of Grieving Sorrow Clearing Wind to capture them all in one net.

Only the poison‑immune Duan Yu and his fairy‑like sister Wang Yuyan escaped. Murong Fu disguised himself as Li Yanzong, at the mill outside Wuxi City, toyed with Duan Yu, originally intending to kill him, but refrained out of respect for Wang Yuyan.

But in Wang Yuyan's words, she revealed that his martial arts were inferior to Qiao Feng's, and even boasted that only three years of guidance would let Duan Yu surpass him.

Murong Fu, naturally proud and arrogant, hearing this was naturally resentful and displeased, but his cousin didn't know that Li Yanzong was him, so he couldn't lose his temper.

Who would have thought that at the Manor of Gathering Virtues another Feng Yi appeared, with the sentence "Murong Fu isn't worthy to let Feng Yi share his glory" spreading far and wide.

Because the reputation "Southern Murong, Northern Qiao Feng" resounds loudly in the jianghu, it can be said to be the top trend of the martial world.

Feng Yi helped Qiao Feng belittle Murong Fu, not only letting Qiao Feng overwhelm him, but also revealing that Feng Yi does not fear Murong Fu.

Originally Murong Fu's life was unpleasant; first he was scolded by his aunt Madam Wang, who said the Murong family's Returning Water Pavilion library paled compared to the Wang family's Bright Vast Jade Cave, and that the Murong family's attempt to restore Yan was overreaching, ultimately inviting the disaster of house‑ransacking and clan extermination, and furthermore his cousin Wang Yuyan looked down on his martial arts, with Qiao Feng suppressing him.

Moreover, Qiao Feng's reputation in the jianghu is obvious; without mentioning anything else, just before becoming gang leader, when he defeated nine strong rivals on Mount Tai, he was only of the age of weak crown.

However, although Murong Fu's fame is great, it is more mystery than prestige; that bit of deterrence still comes from what Murong Bo achieved in the past.

Because Murong Fu has never done anything conspicuous in the jianghu, there are only rumors. But rumors can only fool outsiders; Madam Wang and Wang Yuyan mother and daughter utterly despise his martial arts.

Just the death of Shaolin's Master Xuánbēi, Wang Yuyan once revealed in front of the outsider Duan Yu that Murong Fu lacked such ability, which can be imagined in ordinary times.

Therefore Murong Fu actually endures in silence, merely putting on an air of disdain for quarreling before his close subordinates to show his magnanimity.

Of course, Qiao Feng has been famous for years, and the Wang mother‑daughter are relatives, so that's understandable.

Who would have thought that the penniless Feng Yi would also dare to utter such wild words at the Manor of Gathering Virtues.

Know that the Manor of Gathering Virtues gathers hundreds of heroes from north and south; Feng Yi's lighthearted sentence "Murong Fu isn't worthy to let Feng Yi share his glory" spread, and all sorts of things are said.

As Murong Fu is a "top trend" figure in the jianghu, rumors are inevitable; Feng Yi's remark naturally caused everyone to point fingers at him behind his back.

It's just like modern society: cursing a popular star online with vivid details inevitably brings traffic, the same principle.

However, Murong Fu is devoted to the great cause of restoring the country; reputation is indispensable capital for his future uprising, making him feel hard to bear. Thus, after meeting his cousin and Ah Bi near Henan Shaolin Temple, they both covered their faces with bamboo hats.

Because he felt deeply ashamed, he secretly resolved that if he didn't deal with Feng Yi and regain face, how could he meet his fellow jianghu peers?

Who would have thought that at Fan Lou, a little girl would also dare to speak rudely to him?

This instantly made his anger reach its peak.

Had Murong Fu not early on heard that Huang Wan'er was a young lady, with some reservations about her identity, he would have greeted her long ago.

However, Murong Fu turned, his gaze landing on Feng Yi's face; seeing his sword‑like eyebrows flowing into his temples, his eyes bright as stars, extraordinarily handsome, his heart jolted, and he said, "Who are you?"

Feng Yi gave a faint smile, but did not answer, rose directly, and said, "Brother, why bother quarreling with a girl? It's a loss of status; let's go!" He took Huang Wan'er's arm and was about to leave.

Huang Wan'er's food and drinks still hadn't arrived? She thought, "How can we just leave? Big brother said only one or two people in the world could hurt him; could this person be one of them?"

Feng Yi well knew Murong Fu was proud and arrogant, unwilling to submit to others; even toward Qiao Feng, his equal in fame, he felt seven parts disobedient and eight parts resentful—how much more so given his own lesser reputation—but today he did not wish to provoke a conflict.

Murong Fu was about to speak when he heard the old man say, "A wisp of white hair on your forehead, and you're this handsome and suave—do you still not recognize a person? Those eyes of yours might as well have been stepped on in a puddle!"

A flash of cold light passed through Feng Yi's eyes, but it vanished instantly; he stopped his steps, glanced at the old man, and thought, "This old fellow couldn't really be Murong Bo, could he?"

Murong Fu, too, was a smart man; hearing the old man's words, he understood at once, his gaze turning to Huang Wan'er, and he sneered, "So it's Feng Yi, the great hero Feng, present—no wonder a mere girl dares to be so arrogant; I, Murong Fu of Gusu, welcome you!"

Saying this, he rose and placed his bamboo hat on the table; dozens of gazes from upstairs shot toward him, seeing he was about twenty‑eight or twenty‑nine, with sword‑like eyebrows and starry eyes, his bearing lofty, his looks extraordinarily handsome, and the woman beside him even more refined and unworldly, prompting incessant praise.

Only then did Feng Yi look toward Murong Fu, giving a slight smile: "So you are the renowned Murong Gongzi; I have eyes but fail to recognize Mount Tai—truly my remiss."

Ordinary folk thought it normal, but those who knew Feng Yi's reputation all felt it strange, for the jianghu rumors said Feng Yi was arrogant and overbearing, having killed Yun Zhonghe without a word, and looked down on Murong Fu—how could he behave this way?

Murong Fu, too, was doubtful in his heart, and said lightly, "Everyone says Hero Feng's martial arts are superb; is the rumor true or just empty fame? Let me ask you for a few pointers."

Feng Yi thought, "With just you, Murong Fu, do you deserve to challenge me?" Yet on his face he smiled and said, "I offended you at the Gathering Virtuous Manor; the instigator was Quan Guanqing, but I truly cannot shirk my blame—truly a grave breach of etiquette."

Fortunately, Feng Yi's fault was merely verbal; having offended Master Murong, I hope the magnanimous young master will forgive me.

Saying this, he gave a deep bow, his attitude most sincere.

Normally, Feng Yi would fear nothing from Murong Fu—he'd just fight!

But he knew the mysterious old man was no ordinary fellow; from his earlier words it sounded as if he looked down on Murong Fu, yet perhaps he was also criticizing him for being entangled in love affairs, bringing a woman along on his errand.

Precisely for this reason, Feng Yi, with Huang Wan'er in tow, did not wish to provoke trouble.

After all, the Murong father and son are ruthless; anyone who might impede their path to restore the kingdom will be dealt with by any means necessary.

Murong Bo harmed the Xiao Yuanshan family, repeatedly creating bloodbaths in the jianghu—needless to say.

And Murong Fu is even more ruthless and heartless than he!

Murong Fu could abandon the cousin who loved him wholeheartedly, yet he also had feelings for Wang Yuyan—it was not devoid of emotion.

In order to take Duan Yanqing as his adoptive father, he personally killed his loyal retainer Bao Butong without hesitation—these were all men he usually called brothers.

To force Duan Zhengchun to submit, he would kill a helpless woman with a single word; such vile cruelty is rare in the world.

In terms of ruthlessness and toxicity, Feng Yi feels ashamed to be inferior!

Now he and Huang Wan'er have come together; the identity of that mysterious stranger is unknown—even if he were Murong Bo, Feng Yi would not fear a joint attack by father and son, but he lacks confidence in being able to kill both.

Weighing reason and circumstance, the two would be no match and would surely flee; this Fan Lou is crowded with many eyes, and once one escapes, it would be nothing for me, but trouble for the Huang Shang father and daughter would be great.

He does not believe that, with the Murong family's manpower and wealth, if they set out to investigate Huang Wan'er's information, they would fail to find it.

Therefore, for such a vicious beast, once it becomes an enemy, it must be killed outright, leaving no chance to recover. Out of this consideration, for the safety of the Huang Shang family, Feng Yi had no choice but to yield.

Anyway, having yielded, retrieving it later would not be the first time.

Not to mention outsiders, even Murong Fu, seeing Feng Yi lower his head so easily, would be surprised; he sneered, "Are you pretending to be Feng Yi in name, or do you think your face is big enough that a casual remark can just sweep this grudge under the rug?"

He was so overbearing, Feng Yi hadn't even noticed, but Huang Wan'er flew into a rage, her small eyes wide, her willow brows standing on end, hand on her waist, she shouted: "You just said my elder brother is a demon; my elder brother didn't even bother to argue with you, now it's merely a slip of the tongue, my elder brother has already apologized to you, what more do you want?"

Huang Wan'er had originally seen that Murong Fu's bearing was not inferior to Feng Yi's, but actually possessed an even nobler air, secretly applauding; she never expected this person to be so narrow-minded.

Seeing her posture, everyone thought that if they disagreed, they would come to blows with the renowned Murong Fu of Suzhou.

Feng Yi even tugged at her sleeve, as if advising her not to cause trouble.

Everyone felt even more contemptuous; the rumors of the jianghu are unreliable.

What a coward!

Murong Fu had only spoken of Qiao Feng and such to vent his anger earlier, but now that Feng Yi was face to face, he finally had a chance to display his strength, naturally he would not relent. Who would have thought that Huang Wan'er, a mere woman, would speak up for Feng Yi; seeing the performance of Wang Yuyan and A Bi by his side, he immediately understood the situation, smiling: "Why say he is a demon? That was not my words."

But seeing the young lady so young, I suppose she is unaware.

Let me tell you, this Hero Feng is in league with Qiao Feng, who killed his parents and master, colluding with evil and opposing the heroes of the martial world, having slaughtered dozens at Zhu Xian Manor, leaving not a chicken or dog alive; worse still, that Qiao Feng is an enemy of the Great Song, a Khitan!

Everyone who heard this wore expressions of mockery and contempt.

To Song people, the Khitan are like flood and ferocious beasts; let alone that Feng Yi even helps the Khitan who killed his parents and master, being unable to distinguish right from wrong and slaughtering innocents— the impact on Huang Wan'er's spirit can be imagined.

Huang Wan'er, who had never been exposed to the jianghu, how could she know these rumors, yet she still refused to give up, asking in a hoarse voice: "Brother Feng, is what he said all true?"

Feng Yi's expression remained unchanged, as if nothing mattered, he said: "It's true!"

He spoke without even glancing at Huang Wan'er, feeling that this was fine; otherwise he would not know what to do later, but having already harbored murderous intent toward Murong Fu, he smiled: "Young Master Murong, famed under heaven, let me treat this table as compensation!"

He took out a silver ingot and walked toward Murong Fu's table.

Everyone saw in his demeanor an indescribable unrestrained nonchalance; though it seemed like an apology, it resembled an attitude of utter indifference, as if no matter who stood in that position, he would offer compensation all the same.

Although Murong Fu was proud, he was not foolish; he immediately circulated his qi to guard against a sneak attack, but when Feng Yi approached, he bowed and clasped his hands, saying: "I pray Young Master Murong enjoys wealth, health, and safety; please offer me more guidance in the jianghu in the future." He placed the silver ingot on the table, flicked his sleeve, and left.

Seeing Murong Fu think him a coward, he was about to speak up and say a polite phrase, when his vision blurred— Feng Yi had already seized the dazed Huang Wan'er and flashed out the window.

Such lightness skill left everyone greatly astonished; they all ran to the window to look.

Murong Fu had been feeling proud and pleased, but seeing this scene, his face instantly turned pale, he was stunned and unsettled.

Although Huang Wan'er was a woman, she weighed eighty or ninety catties; Feng Yi held her as if she were nothing, leaping and flying— viewed from upstairs, it was like a dark cloud drifting across the roof.

His movement, seeming like flowing light, made it hard to say whether he was a ghost or an immortal— either would be fitting.

Even Murong Fu, a top-tier expert who usually prided himself on his movement, now fell into a daze.

"Young master!" A Bi suddenly cried out in surprise: "Look!" pointing at the table.

Murong Fu then came to his senses, following her finger, and saw that the large silver ingot had been smoothly embedded into the table, with not a single crack around it, which startled him again.

Then Wang Yuyan exclaimed in astonishment: "This person's martial arts are soft yet firm, leaving no trace— truly remarkable!"

Murong Fu muttered to himself: "How is it possible? How could a person's sleeve power be so formidable?"

He had only heard that Feng Yi's martial arts were not weak, but never imagined they could be so high as to surpass his own imagination.

One must know that Fan Lou is a famed building of the Song dynasty; its furniture and furnishings use carefully selected materials, the tabletop being cut from a large maple over a hundred years old, then finely carved and painted.

If one pressed it down with palm strength, Murong Fu thought he could manage it, and that would already be a rare divine skill worldwide; but to say that a light flick of the sleeve, without a sound, could drive the silver ingot into the table— even thirty more years of practice might not suffice. The old man, seeing the silver ingot inlaid into the tabletop, first stared, then his cloudy eyes suddenly flashed with divine light, making him feel even more shaken.

He had seen Feng Yi and Huang Wan'er near Fan Lou, originally thinking of taking Feng Yi into his service, but this completely extinguished that thought.

The old man was a great authority on martial arts; seeing Feng Yi's sleeve flick send the ingot into the table, he knew that such force could split stone, yet achieving this was not merely a matter of brute strength.

For the sleeve to be wide enough, how small must the ingot be?

Yet there was not a crack around the silver, clearly the surrounding tabletop had dissipated eight or nine tenths of that heavy force.

This yin-like soft power is also rare in the martial world; combined, they constitute a startling, world-shaking technique.

Such a divine skill is exceedingly rare even among the vast martial world; Feng Yi being so young, how could he work for others?

Amidst everyone's varied thoughts, A Bi said: "Miss Cousin, can you tell what kind of skill this is?"

Wang Yuyan pondered a moment, then said: "Although I don't know what inner energy he used, in the instant he flicked his sleeve, he instantly turned soft into hard, making his light-as-cloud sleeve become immensely heavy, forcibly pressing the silver ingot in."

Yet he damaged not a speck of the tabletop; this interplay of hard and soft, also secretly conforming to the five phases and six harmonies changes, makes this palm technique alone already formidable.

Feng Yi was no longer present, otherwise he would surely have liked Wang Yuyan's comment. This palm technique is one of the Five Phases Palm styles mastered by Huang Yaoshi, its power secretly embodying the five phases.

He did not wish to turn against Murong Fu today, but he also needed to make him understand that he was not afraid of him— best take care of himself.

Seeing her cousin's grim expression, Wang Yuyan spoke gently: "Cousin, I've heard that Feng Yi is older than Qiao Feng, but that's not particularly remarkable; let's return to Suzhou first!"

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Speaking, he let out another sigh, secretly thinking that the world is vast, indeed talented people emerge in succession.

Duan Yu, though he does not know martial arts, has never even heard of the internal art that drains others' strength, the "Six Yang Melting Snow Technique"; the "Six Meridian Divine Sword" is even more immensely powerful. (Duan Yu actually uses the Northern Dark Divine Skill, but Wang Yuyan mistakenly thinks it is the Transformation Skill, finding it contemptible; to please the beauty, he fabricated this name, and Wang Yuyan wholeheartedly believes the bookworm's words.)

Qiao Feng's martial prowess is even more than she has ever seen.

Now Feng Yi's feat— even if Qiao Feng himself appeared, he could hardly do better.

Although Wang Yuyan lacks worldly experience, she now understands that Feng Yi is trying to preserve her cousin's dignity, evidently not wanting to clash with him, so she advises him not to take it to heart.

Yet Murong Fu, by nature arrogant, does not put anyone in the world in his eyes; his chest is full of repressed anger, yet he secretly thinks Feng Yi is giving him a demonstration, as if not regarding him at all, and he thinks: "My aunt looks down on me, my cousin also looks down on me; once I enter the jianghu, all glory is taken by others— when will I ever rise?" He then chuckles, waves his hand, and says: "A Bi, you and Yuyan go rest; I'm going out for a while!"

Saying this, he paid no attention to the two and hurried out of the floor.

Murong Fu's pent-up anger could not be dispelled; he ran several li in one breath, reaching a grove, where he could not help but strike a pine tree as thick as a wrist with his palm.

With a crack, the tree was broken by his strike.

Murong Fu waved both palms repeatedly, imagining these trees as Qiao Feng and Feng Yi, venting his repressed anger.

"Crack—"

Soon he had snapped four or five trees, when suddenly a cold laugh rang out; Murong Fu started, shouting: "Who is it?"

Before the sound even faded, a figure stepped out from behind the trees— it was the gray-clad stranger from the inn.

Murong Fu couldn't help but feel a chill: "This person arrived behind me without my noticing; if he were to ambush me, could Murong Fu possibly survive?" Yet he remained steadfast, coldly saying: "What are you laughing at again?"

The gray-clad man had a wooden face, no expression, and said: "Laughing at you for being inferior to others, you only know how to lose your temper. Sigh, you are obsessed with women and empty fame, so unaware of improvement; sigh, for the Murong clan to have a son like you is truly laughable!"

Given Murong Fu's intelligence, he should naturally know this person is no ordinary fellow, but at this moment he is fuming; hearing such mockery only adds fuel to the fire, and he angrily shouts: "Then let this ignorant, unprogressive boy see just how you advance!"

He crossed his palms, lunged forward, and struck a blow at the man's face.

How could I have expected that the gray-clad person's finger would twitch, pointing at the incoming palm; seeing his finger tremble and change unpredictably, Murong Fu found that the points on his own hand—Labor Palace, Nurture Old, Inner Pass, Outer Pass—were all covered.

No matter how he varied his moves, it was inevitable that the points on his palm would be struck, but Murong Fu was no ordinary person; he immediately withdrew his right palm and, following the momentum, struck out with his left palm.

That person slightly extended his right palm, lightly pressed his wrist, then, borrowing the force, leapt back about a zhang, glanced sideways and said, "Let's not exchange moves." The implication: you are not my match.

Murong Fu snorted and said, "Since you don't dare to spar with me, stop boasting shamelessly in front of me!"

The gray-clad person took no offense, saying, "I'm not sparring with you to give you face; if you insist on competing, that's fine too."

Murong Fu huffed, "How to compete? Whatever you set forth, I, Murong Fu, will follow!"

The gray-clad person said, "But I must state this first: if you lose, you must kowtow and take me as your master."

Murong Fu, being a hot-headed youth, didn't consider anything else and simply asked, "What if you lose?"

The gray-clad person replied, "Even if your age only qualifies you to be my son, I would still kowtow and take you as my master."

Murong Fu shouted, "Good, make your move!"

The gray-clad person gave a hehe smile: "Look closely!" He extended his index finger and pointed twice in the air; immediately came two "crack" sounds, and two branches on a pine tree fell down.

Those two branches were about a zhang away from him, yet they were shaken off by his finger wind, while the other branches remained intact; such divine skill left Murong Fu staring dumbfounded, unable to speak, thinking: "No wonder he doesn't want to spar with me—how could I possibly resist this subtle, marvelous invisible finger force?"

Then I heard the gray-clad person loudly say, "Are you convinced?"

Murong Fu thought, "This person's martial arts are so superb; taking him as my master would not be a loss, but how could I truly become his disciple?" He then said, "Your martial arts truly surpass mine; I am convinced both in heart and in word."

The gray-clad person gave a hehe laugh and said, "You have reservations and are indecisive because you can't bear to let go of the Murong clan's reputation, right?"

Having his thoughts laid bare by him, Murong Fu nodded and said, "That's right; I, Murong Fu, am inferior, having failed to fully master our family's inherited martial arts."

"That's not wrong either!" the gray-clad person chuckled, "But this technique of mine is called the 'Three-Union Finger,' and it is also a martial art of your Murong family; taking me as your master would not be a loss!"

Murong Fu's face flushed as he shouted, "With such divine skill, how can you speak nonsense? My father passed on the Murong family's martial arts to me in full; how could I not know there is still this 'Three-Union Finger'?"

Murong Bo had died nearly ten years ago, yet before his death he had already transcribed the Murong family's martial arts into books and passed them all to Murong Fu; father and son had always practiced in the cellar without reservation. One could say his skill hadn't reached perfection, but to say he didn't understand this martial art would be both an insult to him and a disrespect to his father.

Seeing his solemn expression, the gray-clad person couldn't help but stare, then said, "All right, I want to say that if you take me as your master, I won't tell anyone, and you must not tell anyone either. If there are outsiders, we can only pretend to be strangers."

In that case, are you still willing to take me as your master?

Hearing this, Murong Fu's worries vanished; as long as he didn't speak, neither would I, and the Murong prestige would suffer no loss. Though I was quite willing in my heart, I still asked, "With such divine skill, why must you insist on taking me as your disciple?"

The gray-clad person heard this, looked up to the sky and burst into loud laughter.

Murong Fu asked, "What are you laughing at again, senior?"

The gray-clad person's laughter faded, and he said, "I am laughing at how heroic the great Yan state's Murong Huang, Murong Ke, Murong Yun, and Murong De were; now things have changed but people remain, the descendants are narrow-minded and petty, incapable of greatness, and I also laugh at how your father led you astray!"

Under ordinary circumstances, hearing such words, Murong Fu would surely fly into a rage and fight him to the death.

But seeing that this person possessed peerless martial arts and could utter the names of Murong Huang, Murong Ke, Murong Yun, and Murong De, he must be deeply connected to the Murong family; how could he dare to be angry? A sense of awe arose, followed by reverence, and he immediately bowed deeply, saying, "Please, senior, kindly instruct me to enlighten Murong Fu's blocked mind."

The gray-clad person accepted his kneeling without hesitation and said, "You are naturally intelligent and gifted; why then cannot you achieve anything in martial arts?"

This is all because your father's martial arts were not yet complete and his vision limited; it's lamentable that you instead belittle yourself, thinking you are inferior—what a joke you and your father make!

Upon hearing this, Murong Fu instantly felt his whole body lighten, for though the words seemed a rebuke, they were actually a hidden praise; he joyfully said, "Then, having met a great master, within three to five years I will surely be able to defeat Qiao Feng and Feng Yi."

The gray-clad person gave a cold snort: "Is that your goal? Even if you were the best martial artist under heaven, what of it? Your ancestor Murong Longcheng's martial arts were supreme and invincible under heaven, yet wasn't the world taken over by the Zhao family?"

Even if Qiao Feng and Feng Yi's martial arts were higher, one is a defeated and disgraced Khitan barbarian, the other is a young man burdened with concerns, unable to see through beauty; how could they be your goal?

In the Central Plains, Qiao Feng would surely be shouted at by everyone and have nowhere to hide!

And if Feng Yi weren't accompanied by that girl, and if he weren't uncertain of my details, a single gesture would have killed the ruthless Yun Zhonghe; would he then apologize to you? So ignorant and clueless, how could he talk about founding a state and establishing a base?

Upon hearing this, Murong Fu immediately broke into a sweat; he understood why Feng Yi had not fought him, and became even clearer that this gray-clad person knew the Murong family inside out—otherwise how could he advise him with talk of founding a state and establishing a base? Kneeling, he said, "Murong Fu knows his mistake; please, Master, punish me!" and kowtowed three times respectfully.

Hearing him call him master, the gray-clad person laughed heartily, helped him up, and said, "The inherited martial arts of your Ancient Suzhou Murong clan are marvelous and exquisite, unmatched in the world."

But whereas a disciple seeks a famous master, a famous master also seeks an outstanding disciple.

I have today found a worthy heir of my robe and bowl; I am truly delighted, and I will first transmit to you this Three-Union Finger.

Murong Fu thought, "No wonder he went to such lengths to take me as a disciple—it turns out only I am fit to be his student." Instantly, he was overjoyed beyond words, wanting to dance with hands and feet.

Because after his father's death, Murong Fu followed his father's instructions, practicing night after night in the cellar; the people of Three-Union Manor only knew that the young master trained extraordinarily hard, often until late at night, and at his tender age had already mastered many of the jianghu's supreme techniques, his martial prowess so high that rivals were rare under heaven.

However, Lady Wang often mocked that what Murong Fu practiced were merely trivial skills, such as "using their own method against them"—that was only because he hadn't met a true expert, simply throwing away the Murong clan's face.

Yet now there is an elder who praises him so—how could he not be overjoyed?

Murong Fu rose and asked, "Disciple has not yet dared to ask for your esteemed name."

The gray-clad person laughed, "My name has long been unused; those who know me call me Yan Longyuan!"

Murong Fu couldn't help but stare, thinking, "Yan Longyuan—does that mean the hidden dragon of the Yan state in the abyss?"

Then the gray-clad person said, "When no one is around, call me Master; when others are present, pretend we are strangers—the name doesn't matter either."

Murong Fu answered with a single 'yes', thinking, "The master's temperament is certainly strange. Fortunately, his words, deeds, and name must surely be deeply connected to my Murong family, so there's no need to worry about it."

The gray-clad person said, "I impart this divine skill to you as an aid to restoring the state; I go to the capital to observe the court's movements, and that young Zhao Xu's grandmother, the Gao clan, is in her declining years, with not much time left to live."

By then, the new and old factions will surely clash, court affairs will surely be in turmoil—you must prepare early!

But when you go out, you still bring a maid—is that how someone destined for greatness behaves? Or could it be what your father taught you?

Murong Fu, thoughtful and perceptive, understood that he was referring to Wang Yuyan and Azi; he gathered his thoughts and then said that Wang Yuyan and Azi had come out to look for him only because Lady Wang had forced them, and added, "According to Azi, there is a Tibetan monk named Ju Mozhi who had dealings with my late father; he went to Swallow's Abbey, bringing a person, claiming to be the living manual of the Six-Meridian Divine Sword, and wants to go to the Returning Technique Water Pavilion to read books."

Yan Longyuan fell silent for a moment, then sighed, "I know that the Wang family's maid is deeply devoted to you, and I also know Ju Mozhi."

But one's energy is limited; if you devote too much thought to this, it will surely be detrimental.

Murong Fu said, "Once I meet up with my subordinates, I will send them back to Ancient Suzhou."

Yan Longyuan nodded.

(End of chapter)