Chapter 125: The Song Family

Song Jiasen returned to the mansion and handed Song Zhiyi two pills: “These pills boost strength. Eat them and go to sleep right away.”

Song Zhiyi said: “Father, this is my first time stepping onto the field. I’ll stretch my limbs and practice a bit.”

Song Jiasen frowned: “You’re fighting tomorrow—what’s there to practice?”

Song Zhiyi scratched his scalp: “Father, my master always said, ‘Sharpen the sword even if it’s late—it still shines.’”

He had trained outside since childhood, spending more time with his master than with his father, and always spoke in terms of “my master said.”

Song Jiasen despised this catchphrase: “Stop spouting useless nonsense. Go to sleep, now!”

Song Zhiyi dared not defy him. After lunch, he swallowed the pills and went to bed early.

The pills took effect quickly; Song Zhiyi slept until one in the morning, when Song Jiasen woke him.

After rising, Song Zhiyi felt boundless strength coursing through his body: “Father, what kind of pill is this? I’ve never taken it before.”

Song Jiasen snorted: “I wouldn’t even take these myself. I only gave them to you because you’re fighting tomorrow.”

Hearing this, Song Zhiyi’s spirits lifted.

Song Jiasen truly didn’t want to take these pills himself.

It wasn’t the pills he was hoarding—it was himself.

These were Marrow Poison Pills. After ingestion, they temporarily boost combat power by one level. Song Zhiyi was a First-Level Wu Xiu; for the next two days, his combat strength would barely match that of a Second-Level Wu Xiu.

But there was a price.

After the pills’ effects faded, Song Zhiyi would lose two full years of cultivation. His natural talent was already poor—this setback would push his advancement to Second Level even further out of reach.

“Pack your things. Come with me.” Song Jiasen took Song Zhiyi out, no attendants, no front gate—both slipped out the back door.

Song Zhiyi didn’t understand: “Father, where are we going?”

“Shut up. Just follow.”

They took a back path all the way to the north end of the village, where the rumble of a road roller echoed as it still worked. Song Jiasen deliberately circled around and entered a ruin across the road.

Xiao Chuanzi shoveled another scoop of coal into the road roller and licked the wound on his lip.

…

Deep in the ruins, Song Jiasen checked the surroundings—no one around. He turned to Song Zhiyi: “Watch closely. This is the arena I’ve chosen for you. I’ve already arranged the people. Tomorrow morning, they’ll seal the area. Before that, no one will know you and Ma Wu are facing off here.”

The ground was littered with broken bricks and rubble, and many collapsed walls remained uncleared. Song Zhiyi wasn’t satisfied with this combat environment:

“Father, why pick this place? I’m a Wu Xiu, Ma Wu is a Huan Xiu—I have the advantage in close combat.

This place is too chaotic. I can’t close in easily. If he keeps his distance and dodges, I’ll be the one at a disadvantage.”

“Bullshit. Do you think I’d let you lose?” Song Jiasen pulled a cocoon from his robe and placed it on a broken tile.

A white silkworm crawled out of the cocoon.

The silkworm spun silk on the tile. Song Jiasen watched.

When he judged the silk had reached sufficient length, he moved the silkworm to a pile of timber beside the tile.

The pile contained dozens of beams, all torn from houses, piled haphazardly—collapse was expected.

The silkworm chewed a hole into one beam, then crawled inside and began devouring voraciously.

After nearly two hours, once the most critical beam was hollowed out, Song Jiasen retrieved the plump silkworm, stuffed it into a sack, and slung it over his shoulder.

“Remember this: tomorrow, when you fight, lure Ma Wu onto this tile. When he steps on it, the timber pile beside it will collapse onto the tile.

Even if the timber doesn’t hit him, he’ll have to dodge—while he’s dodging, you hit him hard. Don’t kill him. Leave him breathing. Beat him until he begs.”

Song Zhiyi stared, stunned. He hadn’t spent much time at home, but he’d always thought his father a respected, upright man in Lanyang Village—never imagining he’d resort to such tricks: “Father, you’re planning to cheat him? That’s not right. If others find out—”

Song Jiasen slapped him: “Why the hell did I bring you out alone at this hour? Isn’t it so no one finds out?”

He hadn’t even brought guards. This had to stay secret.

Song Zhiyi rubbed his cheek: “Father, I’ve taken the pill—I’m a First-Level Wu Xiu. I’ve been at this level for years. Defeating Ma Wu, a First-Level Huan Xiu, is no challenge. We don’t need tricks. A true man fights with honor—”

Song Jiasen slapped him again: “You’ve been away too long—you’ve lost your mind. What do you know about honor?

Do you think you’re the only one with pills? Who is Ma Wu? The fifth son of the Ma family. Do you think he has fewer pills than you?

You think your few years’ head start means you can beat him? You’ve got an inflated opinion of yourself!

Tang Tianjin went to intercept him on the road this morning and hasn’t returned. I sent men to search the whole village—he’s vanished, alive or dead.

Do you know how much experience Ma Wu has? How many battles he’s fought? How many people he’s faced? You’ve never even left Green Water Bay. How do you compare?”

Song Jiasen made Song Zhiyi memorize the exact spot. They retraced their steps.

On the way, Song Zhiyi couldn’t help complaining: “Father, if I can beat Ma Wu with real skill tomorrow, I won’t need this trap. If anyone sees it, it’ll shame our family.”

“Why should anyone see it?” Song Jiasen snapped. “You talk about real skill—what do you even mean by real skill? You think fighting with fists and feet is real skill?”

Song Zhiyi blinked: “Isn’t that what field duels are about?”

“That’s why you’re so dense—you’re nothing compared to your brother. I’ve held Lanyang Village for over twenty years. In all those years, in every Qingtian or Huntian duel, which one was decided by fists and feet? Can’t you see the pattern?”

It wasn’t Song Zhiyi’s fault—he’d trained outside for years and had seen few duels.

Song Jiasen knew his son lacked experience and explained patiently: “When Old Wei fought Yu the Pockmarked—did you think Old Wei would win? If he hadn’t paid me a thousand silver dollars in advance, how could Yu have tripped over a rock halfway through?

The big black brute hired by Hua Xuan Inn—could he not fight? How did he lose? Why did the wall collapse just then?

They hired girls as Guo Guo (special operatives) for side jobs, kept it off the books, didn’t hand over the money to me—do you think I’d let them get away with it? Do you think I’d let them win?

In field duels, who wins and who loses is decided by your old man. Doesn’t matter if it’s clean or dirty—stand if you win, lie down if you lose. That’s my rule.

The Song family’s dominion was built this way. This dominion will one day be yours two brothers’. If you can’t even learn the rules, how will you run the family?”

Song Zhiyi lowered his head: “But what if it’s exposed? Where’s my face then? I’m the Second Young Master of the Song family—”

Song Jiasen was furious. For years, he’d withheld certain truths from this boy—because his mind was too rigid.

“You just don’t understand. You’re nothing compared to your brother. If you—” Song Jiasen froze. One foot stuck to the ground, refusing to lift.

“Sticky mud!” Song Jiasen gasped. “Someone set an ambush!”

“What’s wrong, Father? Who’s ambushing us?” Song Zhiyi was truly dense—he walked right up as Song Jiasen struggled to free his foot.

“Don’t come closer, you idiot!”

Too late. Song Zhiyi stood beside him—his foot was stuck too.

“Father, what’s happening?”

“You useless fool! Why did you come over? If your brother weren’t injured, I wouldn’t have brought you. Take off your shoes. Don’t let your feet touch the ground—step on your shoes. Jump elsewhere. Don’t use your hands to brace. Don’t let your other foot touch the ground.”

Song Jiasen had experience. He rubbed his foot inside the shoe and quickly pulled one free.

The other foot wouldn’t budge. He strained harder—when suddenly, a distant sound came.

The other foot refused to free itself, Song Jiasen still pulling hard, when suddenly a sound came from afar.

What was coming?

Song Jiasen looked up—and saw a massive beast, belching smoke, charging toward them.

Li Banfeng was driving the road roller.

He’d sent Xiao Chuanzi to work there to monitor Song Jiasen’s movements.

Seeing the father and son, Xiao Chuanzi immediately sent word to Li Banfeng.

In the dead of night, the wilderness silent, Li Banfeng—a Third-Level Zhai Xiu—was easily overlooked. With his Silk-Ear Earrings’ enhanced hearing, he’d tracked their voices, returned with Xiao Chuanzi, and laid the ambush ahead.

After watching two inn duels, Li Banfeng had already grasped the pattern.

Field duels weren’t about fists and feet—they were about rhetoric, traps, and cunning.

The middle-aged man hired by Liu Yuan Inn had spouted elegant words—and won the duel. Victory was victory; no one cared how he won. People thought he was right, so he deserved to win.

Why did the brick wall collapse? Why was it so convenient that it crushed the big black brute? No one questioned it.

Even if someone did, what could they do?

Yu the Pockmarked died in the Huntian arena—he couldn’t speak even if he wanted to.

Hua Xuan Inn had angered Song Jiasen—whether it could even survive was uncertain. Who dared question the duel outcome?

Would the spectators care?

They watched, enjoyed the spectacle, and moved on. Everything else? They didn’t give a damn.

Song Jiasen’s thinking was correct: clean or dirty, win at all costs. On this point, Li Banfeng agreed with him.

But in detail, the two differed.

Song Jiasen had never considered fair competition.

Li Banfeng had never considered competition at all.

Why compete?

Do you have to fight on a stage to decide who wins?

Who said anything about a stage?

Even if they were trapped in sticky mud, Li Banfeng had no intention of a direct clash. Mud doesn’t stick to iron—the road roller’s iron wheels were perfect.

The road roller charged toward Song Jiasen. Song Jiasen pulled a dagger and hurled it at Li Banfeng’s face.

A Third-Level Wu Xiu—his throw was precise.

But Li Banfeng, a Third-Level Zhai Xiu and Second-Level Lv Xiu, simply ducked and avoided it.

Song Jiasen reached for another weapon—too late.

The massive iron wheel crushed Song Zhiyi’s lower body—his knees and below were fully entangled in the treads. His screams tore through the night.

Song Jiasen had freed one foot. He stepped back, threw all his strength against the wheel—and stopped it.

A Third-Level Wu Xiu’s strength was formidable—the road roller halted.

Li Banfeng opened the throttle fully and watched Song Jiasen silently.

Song Jiasen’s face turned purple. He looked up at Li Banfeng: “Bastard—you tricked me!”

Song Jiasen’s face turned purple with rage; he looked up at Li Banfeng and said, “Half-breed, you tricked me!”

Li Banfeng smiled: “I admire those two lines of yours—win and stand, lose and lie down. Let me add one more: die and shut up.”

Then Li Banfeng turned to Xiao Chuan: “Is he going to cut off one of your legs?”

“Mm!” Xiao Chuan nodded, gritting his teeth from behind.

Li Banfeng drew Tang Dao and handed it to Xiao Chuan.

“Brother, time to get to work—cut off Old Man Song’s leg.”

Xiao Chuan took the blade, climbed down from the roller, and swung it down on Song Jiasen’s right leg.

He didn’t even need to exert force—what kind of blade was Tang Dao? One cut, and Song Jiasen’s right leg was severed at the root.

This time, Song Jiasen could no longer hold on; the roller rolled straight over him and his son.

When the vehicle stopped, Li Banfeng saw the ground was messy to clean up.

Xiao Chuan said: “Seventh Master, don’t worry about this—I’ll cover it with asphalt and flatten it later. You go on with your business.”

This brother knows his place!

Li Banfeng smiled, pulled down his hat brim, and left the wasteland.

The next day, twelve-thirty in the afternoon.

Song family’s enforcers arrived early, but Song Jiasen and Song Zhiyi did not show up.

Ma Wu, waiting in the wasteland for half an hour, shouted to the onlookers:

“Though I, Ma Junyang, have fallen on hard times, I stand here as a true man. Song Jiasen challenged me to settle this in the wasteland—I came. I didn’t bring anyone else—I came alone!”

All I’m doing is risking my life here, but I, Ma Junyang, have never backed down! I’ll wait right here today—I want to see if Song Jiasen and his son dare to show up!”

Li Banfeng watched with a smile; Xiao Chuan led the crowd in cheers.

That’s why, in the wasteland, it’s all about rhetoric!

PS: Lan Yang Village is about to change hands!

(End of Chapter)