Chapter 257: Jade Maiden Courtyard

At this moment a light rain fell from the sky; within the rain curtain, the lights grew hazy.

Yu Canghai, the Heaven Gate Daoist, the Dingyi Nun, and Liu Zhengfeng walked side by side into the Jade Maiden Courtyard; the madam, seeing that three of them were monastics, was momentarily stunned.

Yu Canghai's face was cold: "Get lost."

The madam saw this short Taoist with eyes like lightning and a face of frost, followed by many people, realized they had come for trouble, not to patronize prostitutes, and turned away, ignoring him.

Yu Canghai glanced around, leapt onto the roof, gathered his breath, and said: "You killed two of my disciples; won't you give an explanation?"

The Heaven Gate Daoist, the Dingyi Nun, Liu Zhengfeng, and other experts also leapt onto the roof, taking positions all around.

Suddenly came a few clangs; the east-side room's window flung open, and in an instant the scent of wine assailed the nostrils—several women in half-concealed embroidered garments, their skin faintly visible, surrounded a man who was drinking.

This lascivious sight left everyone stunned.

Some inexperienced youths couldn't help swallowing their saliva, thinking: "This woman is really great."

The man had phoenix eyebrows and starry eyes, his radiance bright, candlelight flickering red, giving him a slightly hazy, elegant and graceful air; everyone exclaimed, "What a handsome man!"

Yue Lingshan couldn't help thinking: "He's even more handsome than my senior brother; I wonder if my father was this handsome when he was young."

Wine is a good thing; one should drink it when happy, as the poem says: "In life's joyous moments, one must indulge to the fullest; do not let the golden goblet face the moon empty."

In sorrow, it is indispensable: "Draw the blade to cut the water, yet the water flows ever more; raise the cup to drown sorrow, yet sorrow grows ever deeper."

In short, wine bears all people's beautiful aspirations and endurance of hardship; the literary talents and thoughts of scholars and poets also rely on it to flow onto paper, for the world to read and admire.

Feng Yi, however, was another sort; he now drank not so much because of worries, but to see, given his present physical capacity, just how much he could drink before becoming truly drunk, drunk as mud.

But he couldn't just drink straight; so he picked a few "little princesses" to drink with.

This scene of the red-sleeved maiden adding fragrance made all the martial heroes present frown tightly,

but Feng Yi seemed oblivious to all this, drunk and tapping his wine cup with chopsticks, muttering: "Putting down the cup and throwing down the chopsticks, I cannot eat; drawing the sword and looking around, my heart is lost, my heart is lost!"

Yu Canghai's gaze turned gloomy as he said: "May I ask your esteemed name? You killed two of my disciples; can you give a proper explanation?"

Feng Yi gave him a drunken sideways glance, saw he was a short Taoist, and said scornfully: "What sort of thing are you, to dare call yourself my brother?"

Yu Canghai suppressed his anger, his face darkening as he said: "I am Yu Canghai, unworthy head of the Qingcheng Sect."

Feng Yi shook his head, as if shivering, his eyes clearing considerably; he laughed loudly and clearly, saying: "Qingcheng Sect Leader, what a grand title—have you come here to vie with me for Yubao'er?"

As soon as he finished speaking, a woman beside him giggled and said: "Sir, you see this Taoist is only three inches tall—I wouldn't want him." Her voice was wanton; she was indeed the courtesan Yubao'er.

As the head of a sect, Yu Canghai could not stoop to the level of a prostitute; he acted as if he hadn't heard.

Another woman fed him a morsel of fish, while yet another gave him a sip of wine.

Feng Yi said contentedly: "Sect Leader Yu, I have long heard that southern women are gentle and lovable, their very speech evokes pity; northern women have ample buttocks, excellent for bearing children, and possess bold personalities.

But Yubao'er is a northern woman, yet she is also lively and alluring—how is that? I hear you have many sons by concubines; surely you are experienced, and I humbly ask for your advice."

Upon hearing this, some inexperienced youths instantly felt they had entered a strange new world they had never seen before.

They had thought women were as pleasing to the eye as Yilin, or as enigmatic as Yue Lingshan.

It turns out this maiden also has such a way of speaking?

Even those well‑versed and broad‑minded heroes struggled to keep from laughing.

It seemed as if the esteemed Qingcheng Sect Leader had come here merely to compete with Feng Yi for a favorite courtesan.

He even brought this rustic matter into the open, which is cruder and more impolite than Linghu Chong's behavior; some realized it was a blatant slight—treating Yu Canghai as less than human, deliberately humiliating him.

Linghu Chong truly wanted to offer Feng Yi a good word, but with so many people around, and his master saying that the Hua Shan and Qingcheng sects have long enjoyed excellent relations, he dared not act rashly.

The Qingcheng Sect disciples, their hair standing on end with rage, clanged their weapons and shouted, drawing their swords: "Insolent!"

Feng Yi gave a soft snort.

This soft snort seemed to vent the contempt and disdain from his heart, quite distinctive; at the same time a white blur shot out of the window.

Yu Canghai's face suddenly changed; he shouted, "Dodge!" As he spoke, he descended and struck out with a palm.

As the palm force erupted, one disciple's body jerked sideways, knocking several people aside.

But with a light "clang," although eight disciples drew their swords, three still dropped their longswords and fell to the ground.

Yu Canghai rushed to a disciple's side, saw he had stopped breathing, and noticed a few wood shavings fall from his body; he was stunned.

The remaining few, shoved this way and that, caused Feng Yi's thrown wood shavings to miss the vital points, so they injured the foes but were not fatal.

Even so, the Qingcheng disciples trembled like chaff in a sieve; with a "dong" sound, one turned deathly pale, dropped his sword, and all who saw held their breath, thinking: "There actually exist such people in the world!"

It turned out Feng Yi had just snatched a corner from the table, kneaded it into wood shavings, and flung it out, striking several vital spots.

Essentially, this technique is not some rare divine art; masters like Yu Canghai and the Heaven Gate Daoist could easily perform it.

The remarkable part is that Feng Yi was three zhang away from those disciples, while Yu Canghai was only one zhang away, yet he failed to save them and did not block these hidden weapons.

The meaning conveyed by this is obvious.

This is a divine art that one can admire but never attain.

Feng Yi lifted his wine cup with his left hand, gulped it down, and laughed heartily: "I didn't expect the Qingcheng Sect Leader to be so straightforward—quite interesting!"

He had intended to kill all eight, but Yu Canghai reacted swiftly, pushing one aside and causing a chain reaction; the others weren't struck in vital spots, showing his skill is indeed formidable.

Yu Canghai said coldly: "With such ability, such sharp words, and such arrogant conduct, it's truly hard for you to pull off!"

Feng Yi's eyes flashed as he said: "If you want to teach me a lesson, then attack—why all this nonsense!"

Everyone's gaze gathered on Yu Canghai's face, watching to see if he would accept the challenge.

Feeling all eyes on him, Yu Canghai exhaled a long breath and said solemnly: "I admit I am no match for you, but in the martial world we must ultimately speak of 'reason'; relying solely on force is not the way of true heroes."

Feng Yi scoffed: "So you're saying you're a reasonable hero?"

Yu Canghai snorted: "I would never bully the weak with my strength or the small with my greatness!"

Feng Yi laughed: "Excellent, excellent—I tonight intend to really expend my energy; if I'm not careful I'll end up sore and weak, and your arrival is timely." As he spoke he reached out and touched the cheek of the woman beside him: "Hurry and pour wine for big brother; after I dispatch this shorty, we'll enjoy ourselves properly."

He pressed his hand on the table.

In an instant, Feng Yi shot forth like a startled falcon, leaping from the window and striking a palm toward Yu Canghai.

The crowd shouted and scattered in all directions.

Feng Yi moved with lightning speed, Ye Canghai's breath tightened, already enveloped by the palm wind. But as the head of the Qingcheng Sect, battle-hardened and accustomed to countless storms, he let out a clang, drew his sword, a beam of icy green light hissing as it stabbed toward Feng Yi's palm.

Feng Yi laughed, "Not bad!" He flipped his wrist, his palm striking the flat of the blade with a buzz, the green light flashed.

Ye Canghai's tiger's mouth erupted in pain, he could no longer grip his sword, and it flew from his hand,

Feng Yi chuckled, reached out with his right hand, seized Ye Canghai's sword, and with a casual sweep, a flash of cold electricity sliced through.

Five disciples beside Ye Canghai had their heads hit the ground, blood sprayed everywhere across the courtyard before their bodies collapsed.

"Ah!" several women screamed in fright.

Simultaneously, Feng Yi pushed with his left palm; Ye Canghai felt a huge force surge toward him—though battle-hardened, he was so frightened by Feng Yi's method that his soul nearly fled.

Fortunately, with rich combat experience, he instinctively shrank his body; standing under five feet tall, he resembled a meatball and rolled backward.

But the courtyard was cramped, a wall right behind him; he recoiled too hard, and with a thud he slammed into the wall, then bounced back forward.

Feng Yi laughed heartily: "Ye the shorty, you've got some skill!" Just as he was about to kick, a sudden explosive shout rang out—Heavenly Gate Daoist, Nun Dingyi, Liu Zhengfeng, and Ye Canghai each thrust a palm. The four top masters of the age joined forces, their momentum great and heavy; Feng Yi dared not underestimate them, praising, "Not bad!" Unwilling to face them bare‑handed with his sword, he threw his sword aside,

His horse stance sank low, his right palm circled and turned, his left palm thrust forth—he unleashed the "Proud Dragon Has Regret" from the Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms.

With a thud, the two palm forces collided, the energy surging back and forth; it not only lifted the courtyard floorboards, but also sent raindrops driven by the gust flying outward, striking the faces of the nearby heroes with a faint ache.

Feng Yi flipped a somersault and darted back to the window, sitting upright at the table,

He saw that both sides were in the small courtyard; once fighting broke out, falling into the crowd of heroes, the disparity in numbers would make a bloodbath inevitable, surely deciding life and death in just a few moves.

After all, these people weren't all Ye Canghai; he didn't want to slaughter them indiscriminately, so he first borrowed force to retreat.

Hmm, in his view this was also his courtesy before combat.

Even so, Feng Yi's outgoing palm also caused Ye Canghai to crash into and collapse half the wall,

while the Heavenly Gate Daoist, Nun Dingyi, and Liu Zhengfeng each stumbled back three steps, a flush of blood rising to their faces.

The disciples of the several masters surged forward, crying, "Master, are you all right?"

The Heavenly Gate Daoist and the others' palms trembled slightly, their chests felt oppressive, and they were shocked beyond measure.

These few were top‑tier masters of the age; though they would not claim to be invincible under heaven, in the various provincial capitals they could be called unbeatable.

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But this young man's martial prowess is simply unimaginable; had it not been for the Heavenly Gate Daoist, Nun Dingyi, and Liu Zhengfeng joining forces, Ye Canghai would surely have met his maker after a single move.

Moreover, after he struck, he immediately retreated indoors and did not press the attack; otherwise those few would likely have fared poorly.

Ye Canghai steadied his stance, shame and embarrassment flooding his heart; he never imagined he would be defeated so disgracefully—had he known, he would never have come, but now it's too late.

Ye Canghai drew a long breath, suppressed the blood surging in his chest, and said solemnly, "Sir, you are indeed superb; my skills fall short. I concede today—may I ask your honored name?"

He intended to make an excuse; once Feng Yi gave his name, he would immediately seize the opportunity to utter a polite platitude about green hills and clear waters and then leave.

However, Feng Yi would not give him an easy out; he jerked his chin toward the women, but those prostitutes, already terrified by his bloody methods, could hardly offer him a drink.

Feng Yi snorted, "What's there to fear? I'm no wanton killer of innocents."

Those women hurriedly agreed and fed him wine.

Everyone stared at each other; Feng Yi had seized the initiative, and anyone could tell this person could be called invincible. Even with the three righteous masters present, they might not prevail—Ye Canghai's concession was a wise choice.

Yet Feng Yi's methods, while he claims not to be a ruffian, are nothing short of hypocrisy.

Ye Canghai said, "Sir, your martial skill is superb; I am ashamed to be inferior. But you act unreasonably, disregarding the jianghu code—what kind of hero is that?"

Feng Yi scoffed, "Haha, truly laughable, really laughable—a scheming, strong‑arming weakling, a murderous bandit who slaughters innocents, yet dares to talk about jianghu ethics and heroism; it's sheer bravado!"

Ye Canghai's throat went dry, a chill spanned his chest and abdomen, rendering him speechless.

He knew Feng Yi was referring to his deeds with the Fuwei Escort Agency; he also knew he had gone too far, anticipating criticism, and had originally thought that relying on his martial prowess and sect's strength would make him fearless.

But against Feng Yi, that weight is incomparable.

For relying on martial strength and sect power alone could never match Feng Yi; yet if he did not defend himself, he would later leave himself open to gossip, and the Qingcheng Sect would become a laughingstock—but if he did defend himself, it would be tantamount to accusing the other of slanderous abuse, and given Feng Yi's hot‑tempered nature, he would surely claim he had been insulted and use that as a pretext to attack him.

Upon thinking this, Ye Canghai immediately turned to Liu Zhengfeng and the others, saying, "Liu the Third, Heavenly Gate Daoist, Nun Dingyi, I have led my disciples to Hengshan City to congratulate the Five Peaks Sword Sect for upholding the righteous qi of the martial world; now that I am thus insulted, do you truly intend to stand by and let evil flourish while the righteous wane?"

Feng Yi burst into hysterical laughter: "Meeting you falls short of hearing your name—Qingcheng Sect leader, you're nothing but a pus‑filled sack; if you can't win, you call for help, trying to win by numbers. Hey hey, if you want to live, why beg others? Kowtow three times, and I'll let you live three more years—why not?"

Upon hearing this, a hunchback in the crowd became wildly excited, feeling that if he could say such words to Ye Canghai, he would gladly die for it.

Liu Zhengfeng said respectfully, "I am Liu Zhengfeng; I dare not ask for your exalted name."

Upon hearing his humility, Feng Yi's attitude softened slightly, and he said lightly, "Feng Yi."

Liu Zhengfeng said, "Great Hero Feng Yi's visit to Hengshan truly brings honor to my humble self; though I am incapable, I am honored to host you here—please temporarily relocate your esteemed presence so I may fulfill my duty as host."

He had planned to retire after the golden basin hand‑washing ceremony and never again involve himself in martial‑world disputes; but now, as host, he indeed cannot avoid showing himself, yet he also does not wish to offend a master like Feng Yi.

Feng Yi chuckled, "You're quite something—where in the world is there a great hero who frequents prostitutes? Stop trying to flatter me."

"I am no great hero, nor any sort of champion; some people are blind yet think they see clearly, not realizing they are simply fools."

"Enough, no more nonsense—if you are sensible and know when to rein in at the brink, I will let today's matter drop."

Upon these words, everyone's faces changed in unison.

He not only killed people, but also struck several top‑tier masters, then berated everyone, and yet had the nerve to tell others to back off while he faced no consequence—his cheek is truly too thick.

The Heavenly Gate Daoist shouted, "You are young, yet possess such skill—you should not speak of benefiting the martial world, nor should you bring calamity upon the jianghu."

"Amitabha!" Nun Dingyi uttered a Buddhist phrase, gazing at Feng Yi and said, "Your martial skill is extraordinary; I have never seen its like. It's a pity you have gone astray on the evil path; even if your skill were greater, you would likely struggle against so many—please reconsider."

Feng Yi took a sip of wine and said lightly, "You must be Nun Dingyi, right?"

Nun Dingyi replied, "Exactly, I am the old nun!"

Feng Yi gave a slight nod: "Very well, out of respect for the nun, I will add one more thing—what difference is there between you so‑called orthodox folks and those heretical deviants?"

"What does upholding the righteous qi of the martial world mean? If so, Ye Canghai, leading the Qingcheng Sect, destroyed the Fuwei Escort Agency in Fujian, wiped out all provincial branches, not only looting property and burning houses, but also setting ablaze the homes of ordinary commoners."

"That is even more vicious than bandits!"

"Is he righteous or evil?"

"You esteemed leaders of the orthodox sects, tell me—does this not mean casting aside the righteousness of the martial world?"

"Heh, in my view, the jianghu has might but no right—only the strong are revered."

So today I am stronger than Yu Canghai; let alone killing his disciple, beating him himself, even if I killed him and wiped out the Qingcheng Sect, that would be the rule of the jianghu—what business is it of yours to meddle?

Upon hearing this, the crowd erupted in an uproar, "What?"

Everyone knows that the Qingcheng Sect provoked the Fuwei Escort Agency, but few people know the details of what happened.

If what Feng Yi says is true—robbing property, setting fire to buildings—such murderous and arsonous deeds, how could they be the work of a respectable orthodox sect?

The Qingcheng disciples were both angry and afraid, and Yu Canghai's face turned purple with rage, yet he dared not act out of fear of Feng Yi's martial prowess.

Abbess Dingyi glared and snapped, "Priest Yu, is what they say true or not? Did you really rob the Fuwei Escort Agency's property and set fire to the buildings?"

Yu Canghai's face turned pale, and he protested loudly, "As a poor daoist, I provoked the Fuwei Escort Agency only to vent anger for my master and to avenge my son; if my cultivation is insufficient or my discipline lax, leading my disciples to commit improper acts, that is not something I ordered."

Then your words, sir, are somewhat a case of turning black and white upside down, spitting blood at people—how could that be the conduct of a hero and a good man?

"Again with the 'hero and good man'?" Feng Yi raised his eyebrows: "Are you fucking stupid?"

I'll say it again—I am not a hero and good man!

As for you avenging your master's son, you can go berserk, but today I, acting chivalrously, am I not allowed to let my anger surge to the top of my head?

Moreover, you dare say I am turning black and white upside down, spitting blood at people,

Yu Canghai, you've brought trouble upon yourself!

His eyes flashed like lightning as he scanned the surroundings: "Everyone, he is clearly insulting my character; if anyone dares to block me again, I'll kill him together with you!"

These words, infused with inner power, shook everyone's ears with a buzzing sound.

Everyone thought: "This is a lunatic; to target the Qingcheng Sect, he'll grasp at any excuse, no matter how lame."

Feng Yi intended to cut off the Qingcheng Sect's external support; Yu Canghai had actually anticipated this, but knowing it was a verbal trap, he still had to jump into it.

If he does not explain, would not the label of 'Qingcheng Sect, a disgrace to the martial world' be firmly established?

To explain would be to say that Feng Yi is spouting nonsense; given his martial prowess, how could he tolerate it?

No matter which choice he makes, it will be difficult to resolve well.

Yu Canghai felt tumultuous in his heart, yet he dared not speak in defense, nor dare to become angry out of shame; he could only silently curse the bastard son in his mind.

Suddenly, a voice rang out from the crowd: "Yu Canghai, you shame the Qingcheng Sect, which is supposed to be an orthodox school; you dare to act but not to take responsibility—won't you make the whole world laugh awry?"

That voice sounded very familiar to everyone, and they all turned to look.

(End of chapter)