Chapter 237: with translation of chapter title

Wang Yuyan was so frightened her face turned pale, unable to cry out, she rushed out from the crowd. Deng BaiChuan, Gongye Gan, Bao Butong, and Feng Po'e also shouted in unison: "Do not harm our young master!" and all rushed out.

Murong Fu's hat was shattered by Feng Yi's palm, his hair scattered, he was in a sorry state, wishing he could die at once to avoid this unbearable humiliation.

Azhu was clever and quick-witted; she had actually guessed the intention behind Xuan Ci and Feng Yi striking simultaneously, yet she too was frightened, her heart pounding wildly.

Before the words were out, it had already happened.

Just as Feng Yi's palm was about to land on Murong Fu's head, another strange change occurred.

"Stop!"

The voice was gentle yet vigorous, entering the ears evenly; the depth of his internal energy shocked everyone present, causing Feng Yi's technique to halt mid-motion, and the crowd's hearts jumped: "Who is this person?"

Turning his gaze, he saw a thin figure clad in gray, his face covered with a black cloth, standing aloft on a hillside.

His face was veiled in black cloth, revealing nothing, yet his eyes shone with piercing light, showing he was no ordinary person.

Xiao Yuanshan and Kumozhi's eyes flashed with recognition; they knew this person very well.

Wang Yuyan, Deng BaiChuan, and others had also seen him before.

Feng Yi released Murong Fu, laughing heartily: "I thought you'd still be hiding." He floated outward ten feet.

Suddenly Bao Butong shouted: "You rely on numbers to win—aren't you ashamed?"

Xuan Ci gave a faint smile, paying no heed.

Feng Yi flicked his sleeve; Bao Butong let out a muffled grunt, flew back ten feet, his face flushed red, unable to utter a word.

At first the assembled heroes could not understand the actions of Xuan Ci and Feng Yi, but as Feng Yi spoke and then struck, shattering Murong Fu's hat, they realized he had no intention to kill.

Otherwise, when he seized Murong Fu's pulse gate, a casual palm could have killed him—how could it have come to this now?

This Bao Butong is simply asking for trouble.

Seeing Feng Yi release Murong Fu, Wang Yuyan and Azhu's concern for him outweighed their doubts, yet they saw Murong Fu's face alternate between green and pale, his expression extremely strange, as if his acupoints had been suddenly struck or he had been injured by Feng Yi's internal energy.

The gray-clad person laughed: "Abbot Xuan Ci's splendid robe-subduing demon skill, and Hero Feng's palm power is truly formidable!"

Upon hearing that voice, Murong Fu's face turned ashen; this was none other than the self-proclaimed Master Yan Longyuan who had previously claimed to have taught him martial arts.

Feng Yi smiled slightly: "Your Lion's Roar nearly drove me to deviation as well!"

Regardless of whether Feng Yi's words are true or false, the gray-clad person's casual shout was heard clearly by the thousands present, a display of power truly astonishing.

Even the Shaolin monks of the Xuan generation who have practiced the supreme arts for decades might not manage this; this person is certainly among the most skilled martial artists they have ever seen, and such a figure is certainly no nobody.

The gray-clad person bowed: "Forgive me, this is unavoidable." His body flickered, he shot forward like electricity, seized Murong Fu and leapt ten feet away, saying: "Abbot Xuan Ci's attack on Fu was understandable, but grievances have heads and debts have masters; Hero Feng, I fear you cannot justify this."

Feng Yi gave a light smile: "Everyone here today has come for the gathering of the Shaolin Temple and the Gusu Murongs; Murong Gongzi just said well, he could contribute his share to the world's heroes, and I, Feng, cannot fall behind."

Moreover, Feng Yi just had the father of the son in the pit come out, to settle everything; Old Hero Xiao still has self-knowledge, yet you put on such airs—how could we invite you out otherwise?

The gray-clad person said: "What if I still refuse to come out?"

Feng Yi's face was as calm as an ancient well: "Killing him would be no great loss."

The gray-clad person laughed heartily: "Hero Feng, you have always been gentle and refined, low-key in your conduct, yet today you reveal a fierce aspect, openly threatening—what could be the reason?"

Feng Yi said lightly: "I came today to find out what level a certain person's martial arts have reached, and whether I can truly contend with them; thus I am in a hurry. If your first invitation fails to move me, and the second fails to arrive, then there's no need for a third."

Wang Yuyan frowned slightly, displeased: "Do you truly regard your martial arts as superior, acting with impunity?"

Feng Yi said lightly: "You've read so many books for your Murong cousin, yet you didn't hear my words just now?"

"If I were acting with impunity, I would have gone straight to challenge him alone—why waste time here?"

Feng Yi intended to match himself against the sweeping monk; not knowing his depth, he wanted the Murong and Xiao fathers and sons to gather quickly to scout the way for him.

Put simply, if Feng Yi felt he could fight the sweeping monk, he would go out and put on a show; if he felt otherwise, he would lie low and train a few more years.

In any case, he must not end up like Murong Fu, who came out to show off and got beaten like a dog.

Who among the bystanders could know his bizarre and varied thoughts?

The gray-clad person laughed: "Hero Feng acts freely and boldly—truly worthy of a jianghu youth, unlike some aristocratic monks who hide and hedge."

Abbot Xuan Ci clasped his hands and sighed: "Ashamed, ashamed, Elder Murong, you once sent a false report claiming Khitan warriors would massively attack Shaolin to seize the martial scriptures, causing many grave mistakes—did you ever feel even a shred of remorse in your heart?"

Upon hearing this, even though many had suspected, they were still startled.

The gray-clad person blew lightly with his lips; the black cloth covering his face shattered instantly, revealing a face of clear spirit and fine features, with long white eyebrows: "I never expected the abbot's martial arts to have improved so greatly, and his eyes to have become so bright!"

He exhaled, his energy rending the cloth, yet his speech flowed without pause, light and ordinary, as if making casual conversation, without expending any effort.

Among those present were many martial arts masters; seeing that the black cloth was light and soft, offering no resistance, yet he revealed such astonishing internal energy, they realized the Gusu Murongs truly lived up to their name, indeed possessing remarkable skill.

Feng Yi had seen him several times before, but each time either he was masked or in disguise; seeing his appearance so clearly now was the first time.

Azhu's face turned ashen, she clutched the corner of her garment; Xiao Feng glanced at her and asked: "Is he Murong Bo?"

Azhu's heart was full of worries; she stared blankly at Murong Bo, now thinking of her childhood encounter with him, now of meeting Xiao Feng, and also of her parents, feeling deeply the impermanence of life, people like tumbleweed drifting with the wind, and tears suddenly welled up.

Azhu said nothing, but Xiao Feng saw her sorrowful, resentful expression and understood everything; at that moment he also tasted the difficulty of balancing filial duty and righteousness, his heart filled with myriad contradictions, feeling that all the world's anguish and vexation had fallen upon him.

Feng Yi had anticipated this; it gave him yet another topic of interest.

That rascal Abbot Xuan Ci, pressured by Xiao Yuanshan, seized the opportunity to expose Murong Bo, shifting Xiao Yuanshan's hatred elsewhere.

Whether he will ultimately feign deafness and muteness, or acknowledge his relationship with Lady Ye Erniang and die upholding the Dharma, is even more eagerly awaited than before.

Moreover, upon seeing Murong Bo, will Xiao Feng continue his vengeance, or will he abandon it for Azhu's sake?

Now Feng Yi has taken the mentality of a bystander watching the spectacle to an unprecedented extent.

Upon suddenly seeing the gray-clad person's face, Murong Fu was overwhelmed with inexplicable grief; he rushed forward two steps and knelt before him, his body trembling incessantly.

"Foolish child, foolish child..." Murong Bo also felt indescribable emotion, patting his shoulder, his voice choked, unable to speak for a moment.

"Father, I am incapable and have brought shame upon the Murong family," Murong Fu said, tears streaming uncontrollably.

Murong Bo helped him up, saying: "There's nothing shameful about this; Abbot Xuan Ci and Hero Feng ambushed him together—let alone you, even someone of equal renown like Qiao Feng would surely meet the same fate."

Moreover, in his youth Father had seen this Xiao brother's marvelous martial arts and been frightened to the point of losing his soul; yet Han Gaozu had the White Deer predicament, Han Guangwu the Jibei calamity—a temporary defeat does not disqualify a hero!

Everyone hearing Murong Bo speak so candidly felt no objection; looking at his clear, handsome features, three long whiskers, composed demeanor, he bore the appearance of an enlightened sage, his words modest and courteous, inspiring respect at first sight.

"The name 'Gusu Murong' shakes the world, yet Murong Fu's performance just now was truly unworthy of it. Many thought the name was mere puffery by jianghu busybodies, but seeing Murong Bo's casual laughter and breath that split cloth, they set aside their contempt for the Murong clan—including Xiao Feng and his son.

Xiao Feng and his son were also thinking: just now Murong Fu had fallen into confusion, and Abbot Xuan Ci and Feng Yi simultaneously launched a sneak attack—if it had been them, the result would indeed be the same, nothing more than letting Feng Yi use a bit more strength.

"Really unexpected—originally your Murong family's ambitions are so great." Abbot Xuan Ci drew a deep breath and sighed, "I, your humble self, have been on good terms with you for many years and have always respected your character. That day you told me the Khitan warriors would come to seize the Shaolin scriptures in order to destroy the Song, and I naturally believed it without doubt."

"Afterwards I accidentally harmed an innocent person, and your humble self could never see you again. Later, hearing that you had died of illness, I mourned deeply, thinking that like me, you had felt remorse and thus died young in your prime—who would have known you faked your death to escape."

Murong Bo's eyes gleamed as he stared at him and said, "It seems the old abbot has already figured out the purpose behind my false report back then!"

"Amitabha!" Abbot Xuan Ci said, "Since Murong, you are of the Xianbei ethnicity, then your false report and feigned death to escape are quite understandable."

Back then, the heroic Xiao Elder enjoyed the deep trust of the Liao Empress Xiao; he had always worked for peace between Song and Liao, whereas you sought to revive Yan, which would inevitably renew conflict across the land—his stance opposed your goal. Unless this threat is eliminated, your undertaking cannot succeed.

After the incident, you feared that your humble self would come looking for you, you had no excuse, and could not openly admit it, lest you damage the Murong family's reputation and also draw the enmity of Shaolin and the Beggars' Sect—by then, not to speak of restoring the state, even surviving in the martial world would be difficult.

"Not bad!" Murong Fu nodded heavily and said, "My Murong clan has resided in Gusu for generations, already several hundred years; the world regards us as orthodox Han, little knowing that our Murong ancestor was actually the emperor of Great Yan."

When the Song dynasty was founded, our ancestor Murong Longcheng, with the 'Dou Zhuan Xing Yi' technique, was invincible under heaven; alas, the fine rivers and mountains fell into the hands of that petty man Zhao Kuangyin, who accomplished nothing and died in frustration.

He paused there for a moment, as if recalling the glorious deeds of his predecessors, and as if gnashing his teeth at the villain's rise to power, then slowly continued: "But for these past several hundred years, my Murong descendants have all taken the restoration of Great Yan as their duty, striving to revive the realm; when I was young, Song and Liao were on friendly terms, there was no warfare, and there was simply no opportunity to exploit."

So I took my wealth and journeyed far to Liao, seeking to befriend Khitan nobles, and further became well acquainted with the inner workings of the Liao court.

At that time the Liao Empress Dowager held power, and the clansman she trusted most was the chief instructor of the Shan army, Xiao Yuanshan.

Xiao Yuanshan said, "For the sake of restoring the state and rebelling, you intend to harm me, letting my wife suffer a terrible disaster—heh, Murong Bo, you are indeed 'broad'! You even know my movements inside out!" Unable to restrain himself, he raised his head and let out a long whistle, tears glistening in his eyes.

Murong Bo sighed, "Brother Xiao, whenever Liao officials advocated invading Song, you would always advise the Empress Dowager, extolling the blessings of peace between the two nations—saying that Liao could simply reap Song's silks and treasures, making court and populace prosperous—so the Empress Dowager trusted you greatly, and thus the proposal to invade Song never came to fruition."

But your martial arts are superb, famed as Liao's top expert, not easy to strike, so I secretly schemed, inquired into your usual preferences, and prepared to attack from your weak point.

One day I heard from a relative of yours that the eighth day of the ninth month was your father-in-law's birthday, and that you would certainly bring your wife and children to Wu Prefecture to pay respects. Since the route from Liao to Wu Prefecture usually goes via Yumen Pass to the south of the Great Wall, as soon as I learned of this I rushed to Shaolin Temple to report the news.

Feng Yi said lightly, "It seems even the people of Liao do not wish for a hero like Elder Xiao to remain alive!"

The crowd immediately realized, yes, Xiao Yuanshan's movements had been leaked by his relative—upon reflection, it was utterly terrifying.

Xiao Yuanshan sighed, "Naturally there are also people in Liao who wish for war between Song and Liao, and I am a stumbling block in their way."

For the enemy to know my whereabouts is beyond ordinary capability, so for thirty years I have never returned to the homeland to declare that I am still alive.

Feng Yi, thinking of Xiao Feng's future fate, said, "Brother Xiao, from your father's example it's not hard to see that you, the Southern Campus Prince, had best not continue in that role."

Otherwise, if Yelü Hongji one day wishes to invade Song and you agree, you will surely go against your own wishes; if you refuse, you would be defying the emperor's edict, which he could never tolerate.

Xiao Feng's heart involuntarily tightened; Feng Yi's previous words had struck right at his innermost thoughts, yet could his sworn elder brother really harm him?

Only hearing Murong Bo speak slowly: "At that time I reported the Liao court's movements, military affairs, and troop deployments in full detail, without a single loophole; to Shaolin Temple this matter concerned the fate of all under heaven and the lifeline of Central Plains martial arts, so I immediately sent out word, summoning heroes from all quarters to devise a countermeasure."

The heroes having agreed, they set out in batches toward Wu, Dai, Shuo, and Ying Prefectures to try to intercept. Yumen Pass is the key southern route for Liao, and Abbot Xuan Ci together with the Beggars' Sect Chief Wang concentrated their able men, hiding in secluded spots outside the pass, and managed to intercept Brother Xiao's party—alas...

=9+ book ba

With that sigh, the entirety of Shaoshi Mountain fell into a deathly silence.

As it turned out, the so-called Yumen Pass affair involved far more people than anyone had imagined; many originally thought only Abbot Xuan Ci's group had gone to raid the Khitan warriors, but who knew that such a large force had been dispatched.

Abbot Xuan Ci's face showed sorrow and pity as he clasped his hands and said, "It's a pity that your false news caused countless heroes of the Central Plains and Lady Xiao to die in vain, Elder Xiao leapt from the cliff, and you still failed to achieve your sincere wish—the world remains without major turmoil."

Murong Bo sneered, "Man proposes, heaven disposes."

"How laughable!" Feng Yi sneered, "Even if Liao and the great Song go to war, what strength does your Murong family have to restore the state? Relying on those four great generals? Not to mention anything else, just that scoundrel Bao Tong with his foul mouth—aside from offending people, what use is he?"

Those with a little talent—never mind whether they can endure his mockery—but to serve your Murong family and lay down their lives, how base must they be?

Murong Bo seemed not at all bothered by Feng Yi's sarcastic tone, letting out a light sigh: "That day, Brother Xiao, at the Battle of Yumen Pass, I personally saw him carve characters on the wall and then leap from the cliff to his death. I knew that once the heroes discovered the situation had changed, they would surely come knocking for answers; I knew I had spread a rumor and deceived people, and being unwilling and unable to face the martial world's questioning, I thus secluded myself in the cellar of my home, never setting foot outside."

During that period the Shaolin Temple had sent people to investigate; I and my wife had already prepared our story, saying only that I had left home for an outing over half a year ago and had not yet returned, with family members deeply concerned, and even asking senior Shaolin monks to help look for me.

As it turned out, thirty years ago outside Yumen Pass, Murong Bo hid far behind a cliffside, watching the heroes battle Xiao Yuanshan; although he had killed Xiao Yuanshan's wife, Xiao Yuanshan's martial prowess was truly terrifying beyond imagination.

Frightened to the point of losing his soul, Murong Bo fled back to his home in Suzhou, hid in the cellar for seven days, his whole body trembling, his heart seized with terror; no matter how gently his wife soothed him or how kindly she reasoned, the fear in his heart never diminished in the slightest.

During that period the Shaolin Temple had sent people to investigate, and Murong Bo ordered his wife to turn away the Shaolin monks.

Murong Bo thought that Longcheng Gong's creation of the "Dou Zhuan Xing Yi" technique, although able to transfer an opponent's attacking martial arts, was exquisitely superb, giving the Murong clan the renowned title of "using the opponent's method against them"; yet it carried a sense of "relying on others to make one's bridal gown"—this Shaolin martial art being the foremost of Central Plains martial arts, if one could obtain the Seventy-Two Secret Arts manual and impart it to the covertly recruited winged troops, then the Murong clan's strength to restore the state would be augmented like a tiger gaining wings, becoming even mightier.

After consulting with his wife, Murong Bo disguised himself, posed as a merchant; the Murong clan had for generations plotted to restore the state, their home piled with gold and silver, so he brought a large amount of treasure and arrived at Dengfeng in Henan.

Murong Bo acted with deep foresight: first in the county town, under the pretense of dealing in local produce, he befriended local merchants and traders; then he went to the farmhouses near Shaolin Temple to purchase local produce, next bought houses and farmland, thereby settling there, often wearing a bamboo hat and shouldering a hoe.

He cultivated vegetables and fruits on the hill behind the Sutra Library, became acquainted with several steward monks of the Sutra Library, frequently sending them fresh produce such as peaches, apricots, pears, and dates; within half a year he had thoroughly investigated the Sutra Library's fire prevention, book drying, shift duty, and safekeeping of secret texts.

Murong Bo then borrowed Buddhist scriptures from the monks; Shaolin Temple has always been kind to others, welcoming those who borrow sutras, and had no suspicion of him whatsoever.

When the moment ripened, Murong Bo, after midnight one night, silently slipped into the Sutra Library, found on the shelves a manual titled 'Nian Hua Zhi Fa' (Flower-Picking Finger Technique), was overjoyed, carried it back to his residence for careful perusal, then lit a lamp and transcribed it in detail.

The following evening he went again; repeating this back-and-forth, over four months he transcribed twenty-eight sections. By then winter had arrived, missing his wife, he returned to Suzhou, hid the copy in the cellar, selected a few supreme techniques, and practiced them daily according to the method, never ceasing.

Only hearing Abbot Xuan Ci say: "My junior fellow disciple Xuan Bei, acting on my orders, went to Gusu to inquire of you about this matter; I suppose his words offended you. He also spotted several clues in your manor, guessed your intention to rebel, and therefore you silenced him by murder."

But why did you endure for years, only acting when he set out for Dali?

Well, you wanted to stir up a feud between the Dali Duan clan and the Shaolin sect, but his martial prowess exceeded your expectations, so you employed the Murong family's hereditary skill of 'using the opponent's method against them' and killed my junior fellow disciple Xuan Bei.

Murong Bo gave a heh-heh laugh.

Abbot Xuan Ci continued, "Consider the benefactor Ke Baisui, whose family wealth is abundant; you recruited troops and bought horses, stockpiled grain, took a fancy to his estate, wished to take it for yourself, and wanted him to accept the Murong family's 'Yan' command flag. Ke Baisui refused, and might even have intended to report to the authorities."

Murong Bo burst into loud laughter, saying, "Old abbot, though you never step outside, you understand all the affairs of the jianghu as clearly as the palm of your hand—remarkable, remarkable! Only a pity that, while you perceive the finest details, you overlook the firewood. I, together with this Brother Xiao, have been hiding near your temple for so many years..."

Before he could finish speaking, the two suddenly shouted in unison and lunged at him—namely, Ke Baisui's martial brother 'Gold Abacus' Cui Baiquan and Ke Baisui's disciple Guo Yanzhi.

Murong Bo didn't even glance, flicked his sleeve, and sent Cui and Guo flying several zhang, where they lay on the ground unable to move.

In that instant, each had in fact been struck by his 'sleeve-hidden finger'.

Abbot Xuan Ci slowly shook his head, sighed, and said, "Understanding others is easy, understanding oneself is hard. Defeating an enemy is not easy, but conquering the inner enemies of greed, anger, and ignorance is far more difficult."

Xiao Yuanshan pointed his halberd and shouted, "Old traitor Murong, I have met you three times at Shaolin Temple and never realized that Yan Longyan was Murong Bo—today, have you decided how you will die?"

Murong Bo replied, "Indeed. Brother Xiao's martial arts are superb, and I am deeply grateful for your guidance."

As it turned out, after Murong Bo's first return from Shaolin Temple to Suzhou, his wife was pregnant; he therefore remained in Suzhou, later gave birth to a son whom he named Murong Fu, hoping the son would inherit the ancestor's legacy.

Murong Bo again assumed a disguise, walked the jianghu under the name Yan Longyan, made many friends, and once more rushed to Shaolin Temple to steal the scriptures.

During that period he encountered the masked Xiao Yuanshan; after they exchanged blows, Murong Bo was defeated. Yet neither recognized the other, and Murong Bo further called himself Yan Longyan.

At that time Xiao Yuanshan hated Shaolin Temple to the point of an itchy grudge, and he regarded the martial-arts-thieving Murong Bo as a fellow enemy, even offering him pointers.

Murong Bo stole a few secret manuals again, missing his wife and children, and returned to Suzhou once more.

The following year he went to Dengfeng again, copying secret texts each night.

Two months later he encountered Xiao Yuanshan outside the Scripture Pavilion again, they fought a second time, after over a hundred moves Murong Bo admitted defeat again, and Xiao Yuanshan told him to keep practicing and rematching.

Murong Bo returned to Suzhou again to train, as autumn passed into winter he went to Dengfeng to trade, sneaking into the Scripture Pavilion at night to copy texts, and within a few months he copied another thirty-odd volumes.

Eventually he found the shelves filled only with orthodox scriptures like the Flower Adornment Sutra and the Mahayana Prajnaparamita Sutra, with no uncopied martial arts manuals left, thinking he had recorded over fifty or sixty of Shaolin's secret techniques, he then stopped.

At this time Xiao Yuanshan fought him for the third time, they exchanged over three hundred moves, and the outcome remained undecided.

Xiao Yuanshan thought of how someone who had once been far inferior to him, after he gave him a few pointers in practice, had become his equal in skill, and this person turned out to be the ultimate source of all evil; his regretful intestines turned green, how could he possibly have anything good to say?

Murong Fu, as a son, shouted: "Keep your mouth clean!"

Xiao Yuanshan sneered: "With your paltry skill, what place do you have to speak here?"

Murong Fu's handsome face flushed purple, despair rising secretly; he also understood that his martial arts fell far short of Xiao Yuanshan's and his father's.

Xiao Yuanshan stepped forward two paces, pointed at Murong Bo and shouted: "Murong you old thief, I deeply regret not knowing your true nature back then and not striking a heavy blow to kill you; come up and receive your death!"

Murong Bo gave a long laugh, turned his gaze: "Ah Zhu, what do you think?"

"Master!" Ah Zhu murmured, tears streaming across her eyes, feeling everything as if real yet illusory, as though she were with Xiao Feng, like a nightmare she could not wake from.

After Murong Bo and Xiao Yuanshan fought for the third time, Jiumozhi was nearby watching the battle; after Xiao Yuanshan left, the two became friends, and Jiumozhi passed the Flame Blade to Murong Bo.

After memorizing it carefully, he said that only the Dali One Yang Finger could match it, and he added that the Dali Duan clan's supreme martial art was the Six Meridian Divine Sword.

He also handed over the thirty-odd volumes of Shaolin secret techniques he had on hand for Jiumozhi to copy, and said that once Jiumozhi obtained the manual of the Six Meridian Divine Sword, he would then gift the other secret arts as well.

Jiumozhi was overjoyed, and right then he and Murong Bo made a pact by clapping palms three times; however, his Flame Blade had not yet been perfected, so he dared not go to the Heavenly Dragon Temple to seize the scriptures, returning to Tibet to train in secret.

Thus the years flew by swiftly; Murong Bo and Murong Fu studied widely, their martial arts growing with time, and Ah Zhu and Ah Bi were then brought to the Murong household.

One day Murong Fu entered the rear hall to report, saying that a Shaolin elder monk named Xuanzhi had come to the door seeking an audience.

Murong Fu obeyed his father's order, went out to the hall and told Xuanzhi that his father was not at home, revealing no hint or trace. Murong Bo lingered in the cellar for several days, reckoning that Xuanzhi had long since departed; after conferring secretly with his wife, he realized that given the temperament of Abbot Xuanci, only his own death would prevent the abbot from spilling the truth and damaging his posthumous reputation, so he resolved to fake his death to avoid future trouble. Fearful that young Murong Fu might slip up, he kept even him in the dark.

Thus, after Murong Bo had been away from home for several months, his wife informed his son and the household staff that the master had passed away abroad, and then they proceeded to arrange the funeral affairs—coffin preparation, announcing the death, setting up the spirit hall, opening the condolences, offering sacrifices, and burial—all carried out in order.

In Ah Zhu's memory, it was simply that Murong Fu had a master who had died; who would have thought that the master, who bore a grudge of killing her mother against her beloved Elder Brother Xiao, would actually appear alive before her very eyes?

She didn't know whether she should be happy or sad.

By this point, Xiao Feng was still a hero unmatched, his spirit boundless, yet he too had fallen into agitation.

Feng Yi said: "Xiao Brother, do whatever you want to do!"

Xiao Feng furrowed his brows, thought a moment, stepped forward, and said: "Murong Bo, what does all this right and wrong have to do with Ah Zhu? Could it be that you and your son fear my Xiao father and son?"

"Afraid of you?" Murong Bo scoffed: "Although the Xiao father and son possess peerless martial arts and shake the world, they are not worth my Murong family's fear."

He turned his gaze to Feng Yi: "What do you say, sir?"

This turn of events left the slow-witted stunned, while the quick-witted admired Murong Bo's venomous insight. (End of chapter)