Chapter 142: Your Master

The night was deep, like ink spilled.

On Taohuadao, apart from the footsteps of patrolling disciples and the distant crash of waves against rocks, only the chirping of insects remained.

It seemed especially tranquil, yet beneath this stillness lurked a faint, almost imperceptible tension and menace.

In a remote corner of Taohuadao, rarely visited by anyone in daily life.

A dungeon built of sturdy green stone stood silently in the darkness.

Here was where "Southern Murong Fu"—the man captured by Brother Ning Chuan—was imprisoned.

Suddenly.

A shadow clad in black, like a phantom, appeared soundlessly outside the dungeon.

His movement was so refined, his breath concealment so skillful, that not a single patrolling disciple on Taohuadao sensed any anomaly.

The black-clad figure was slender, his face covered by a black mask, revealing only a pair of eyes glinting with cold, icy light.

Like a bat in the night, he leapt and landed several times, arriving instantly at the dungeon's entrance.

At the dungeon's entrance, two servants of Taohuadao leaned against the wall, dozing off.

They were mere servants, not Wu Lingaoshou, and naturally could not detect the black-clad man's arrival.

The black-clad man's eyes flickered with disdain; he didn't even bother drawing his sword.

He merely flicked two fingers, and two nearly invisible bursts of force struck precisely the sleeping acupoints of the two servants.

Neither uttered a sound before collapsing limply to the ground, sinking into deep slumber.

The entire process was clean, swift, and produced not a single sound.

The black-clad man pushed open the heavy dungeon door; a damp, musty air rushed toward him.

He frowned, then stepped slowly inside.

Inside the dungeon, light was dim; only a flickering oil lamp in the corner cast a feeble glow.

By the dim light, the black-clad man saw the pitiful figure curled in the deepest corner.

The man's clothes were tattered, his hair matted and filthy, his body covered in dried blood and grotesque wounds.

One arm twisted unnaturally—clearly broken.

His breath was so faint it seemed ready to vanish at any moment.

Had it not been for the slightest rise and fall of his chest, anyone would have taken him for a cold corpse.

This man was none other than Southern Murong Fu, once famed throughout Jiangnan for his charm and elegance.

Seeing Southern Murong Fu's wretched state, the eyes hidden beneath the mask blazed with furious, burning rage!

A cold, violent killing intent surged uncontrollably from him, causing the temperature of the entire dungeon to drop as if by several degrees!

He clenched his fists tightly, his nails digging deep into his palms, drawing thin trails of blood.

"Fu… Fu'er…"

The black-clad man's voice trembled with barely suppressed sorrow and anguish.

Hearing this familiar yet alien voice, Southern Murong Fu's scattered eyes slowly sharpened.

He struggled to lift his head, staring at the unfamiliar black-clad figure, his voice as faint as a mosquito's buzz:

"You… who are you…?"

He could not recall ever meeting such a powerful black-clad stranger.

The black-clad man took a deep breath, slowly raised his hand, and tore off the black mask from his face.

Revealing a face weathered by time, yet still bearing traces of its former handsome contours.

"Fu'er, my child, I am your father!"

The black-clad man was none other than Southern Murong Bo, master of the Suzhou Murong clan, who had faked his death and hidden for years in the scripture hall of Songshan Shaolin.

"Father… Father?!"

Southern Murong Fu stared at the face—both familiar and strange—and his dull eyes widened in shock!

He could hardly believe his ears!

"Father! You… you're not dead?!"

A surge of indescribable joy and excitement flooded his heart, giving his weakened body a sudden burst of strength.

"Foolish child, of course your father isn't dead," Southern Murong Bo said, his voice hoarse, his eyes flickering with guilt and tenderness.

"Back then, I feigned death and vanished to secretly plot the restoration of our Murong clan's great cause—the revival of Great Yan."

"I never imagined it would bring you so much suffering, leaving you alone to bear so much pressure and humiliation."

Seeing his son's wretched state, his heart filled with endless remorse and self-reproach.

Father and son, after many years, met again in this dark, damp dungeon.

For a moment, emotions—excitement, joy, grievance, regret—wove together in both their hearts, leaving them speechless.

After a pause, Southern Murong Bo forced down his emotions and spoke in a low tone:

"Fu'er, this place is not safe to linger. Let's leave first!"

"I'll take you away from this hell, heal your wounds, and avenge you!"

These past days, though he had never set foot on Taohuadao,

he had gathered information through various channels about what had transpired on the island.

Especially regarding the mysterious, unfathomable, and immensely powerful Dragon Island Master, he had heard many terrifying legends.

He knew that with his current strength, a direct confrontation with that dragon would bring him no advantage—and might cost him his life.

Thus, his purpose in coming was only to quietly rescue his son, and he wished to avoid any unnecessary trouble.

He carefully lifted Southern Murong Fu from the ground, preparing to carry him on his back and slip away from the dungeon.

With his Wu Gong and breath concealment, as long as he did not alarm the dragon, he should be able to leave unseen and unheard.

However, just as he was about to take a step.

A voice, cold and brimming with endless hatred, like the biting wind from the Nine Nether, suddenly came from the dungeon entrance!

"Mu! Rong! Bo!"

"You old dog who has forgotten your ancestors and is utterly despicable! Finally willing to crawl out of your dog hole!"

Accompanying this voice filled with bone-piercing hatred.

A towering, imposing figure, brimming with killing intent, stood like an iron tower, blocking the dungeon entrance!

He wore black tight-fitting clothes, his face stern, and in his tiger-like eyes burned Xiong Xiong's fury and overwhelming killing intent!

Fixed firmly on Southern Murong Bo inside the dungeon!

This person was Grandmaster Xiao Xiao Yuanshan, subdued by Brother Ning Chuan and ordered to wait here for a long time!

Seeing Xiao Xiao Yuanshan, Southern Murong Bo's face instantly changed, his eyes filled with disbelief, shock, and horror!

He never expected that Xiao Xiao Yuanshan would appear here!

Moreover, from his appearance, it was clear he had prepared long ago and was waiting specifically for him here!

His infiltration of Taohuadao had actually... been exposed?!

He had originally thought his hiding was flawless, unknown to gods or ghosts!

It turned out.

All of this was within the calculations of that mysterious Dragon Island Lord!

He had long predicted that he would come to save his son!