Chapter 126: You

The time for the wild-field match had arrived, but Song Jiasen was nowhere to be seen, and Song Zhiyi had also vanished.

Song Jiasen’s eldest son, Song Zhigang, sweated profusely, sat before Ni Ruiliang, and pleaded with a desperate face: “Uncle Ni, please help us—it’s already one o’clock. If we don’t send someone to the wild field soon, we’ll have to forfeit in another hour.”

Ni Ruiliang was a retainer of Song Jiasen, who usually addressed him as brother; he was the only fourth-layer cultivator the Song family could rely on—a fourth-layer body cultivator.

But being reliable didn’t mean he was obedient.

Ni Ruiliang had grown up poor; in his youth, Song Jiasen had supported him. After reaching the fourth layer, he lived at the Song residence, receiving two hundred silver dollars monthly for expenses, plus extra gifts during festivals—plainly put, he was being kept as a fourth-layer enforcer to hold the line.

Whenever something happened, Song Jiasen had to negotiate with Ni Ruiliang before asking him to act.

Even Song Jiasen couldn’t order Ni Ruiliang around, let alone his son.

Ni Ruiliang sipped his tea and said: “Zhigang, where exactly are your father and younger brother? With such a major matter at hand, how can they be so careless?”

Song Zhigang’s face was frantic: “I truly don’t know where they’ve gone, Uncle Ni. This match today determines whether the Song family can even hold its ground in Lanyang Village—you can’t just stand by and do nothing.”

Ni Ruiliang set down his teacup: “Zhigang, it’s not that I don’t want to help—it’s that I can’t, without breaking protocol. Your father agreed yesterday with Ma Junyang that your brother would face him. Now you’re asking me to step in—what will become of the Song family’s reputation?”

“Reputation doesn’t matter now, Uncle Ni—I beg you, fight for us just once.”

Ni Ruiliang sighed: “Wait a little longer. Just wait.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help—he was afraid to.

He had a hunch that Song Jiasen was already in trouble.

It wasn’t anyone else’s fault—it was Song Jiasen’s own stupidity. Why pick a fight with anyone else, but deliberately provoke the Fifth Young Master of the Ma family?

Though Ma Wu had fallen on hard times, he was still a Ma. If the Ma family truly moved to wipe out the Song family, it would be no more than stepping on an ant.

As for the Liu, Si, and even Lu families above the Song family—these clans didn’t hesitate to take money, but whether they’d actually act was another matter.

Besides, Ni Ruiliang was right: it was the Song family that had chosen to face Ma Wu. Though the Qingtian Arena allowed substitutions, Ma Wu himself had come.

If your Song family sends an outsider to fight for you, doesn’t that mean Ma Wu could also send someone else?

Do you even know what kind of person Ma Wu could bring in?

As the clock neared the hour, Song Zhigang gritted his teeth: “Uncle Ni, fine—I’ll remember this. I won’t beg you anymore. I’ll fight myself!”

Song Zhigang stepped out the door. Ni Ruiliang feigned concern: “Zhigang, don’t rush—think it through, think it through!”

…

Song Zhigang arrived at the wild field. Ma Wu was still giving a speech to a crowd of onlookers.

So many people had come today—Song family’s direct involvement was a rare spectacle. Everyone in Lanyang Village with a taste for drama had shown up.

“I’ve waited two hours here. According to Lanyang Village’s rules, it’s nearly two o’clock. Two hours have passed, and your side hasn’t shown up—so I win by default!”

“Today, all these good folks here are witnesses—I didn’t cheat, didn’t back out, I won fairly and squarely. Isn’t that true?”

“At my own gate, your Song elder drew knives and guns, beat my brothers, gouged out eyes, cut off thighs—all of it your words!”

“At the time, he even tried to attack me. I wasn’t afraid of him then, and I’m not afraid of him now. But since I’ve come here for the match, shouldn’t there be a clear winner?”

“What did Song Jiasen say back then? All you good folks heard it: in the Qingtian Arena, whoever loses must leave Lanyang Village! His words were firm—he had to stand by them! Has anyone from the Song family shown up? Is this settled or not?”

Originally, the crowd feared offending the Song family—except for Li Banfeng, Xiao Chuan, and a few road workers, no one dared make a sound.

But Ma Wu kept goading them with his rhetoric, and his words were so “down-home thrilling” that the crowd grew more and more excited, their cheers rising in waves.

As the clock neared two, the cheers abruptly stopped.

“Someone from the Song family has arrived!”

“Don’t make a sound. Just watch.”

Song Zhigang entered the wild field, followed by over twenty attendants: “Ma Junyang, don’t get cocky—let’s settle this in the arena first.”

Ma Wu blinked: “Song Zhigang, your father said your brother would face me. Why the change?”

“Zhiyi has urgent business—he can’t come. I’m a Song, and I’m a first-layer Wu Xiu. One layer against one layer—I’m not cheating you. Let’s begin!”

Song Zhigang was a man of grit. Though injured, he stepped into the arena.

Didn’t the Song family have anyone else who could fight?

Yes—they had two second-layer cultivators under Song Jiasen.

Both had arrived early. They’d received Song Jiasen’s orders the previous afternoon and came to the wild field that morning to secure the grounds.

They could represent the Song family—the Qingtian Arena allowed substitutions.

But these two second-layers weren’t fools.

The chief steward had gone to find Ma Wu—and hadn’t returned.

The master had gone to find Ma Wu, intercepted him, but hadn’t fought.

Now the master was gone again, and Ma Wu was no easy opponent.

Even Ni Ruiliang, a fourth-layer cultivator, wouldn’t fight—how could they dare?

Their job was to secure the grounds—nothing else was their concern.

Besides, the master had ordered Zhiyi to face Ma Wu. If they stepped in, it would break protocol. With that excuse, they ignored Song Zhigang’s commands entirely.

This match could only be fought by Song Zhigang himself.

Scanning the arena, Song Zhigang spotted a peculiar tile—and instantly understood its purpose.

Unlike Zhiyi, Song Jiasen had always favored Song Zhigang and had shared many secrets with him.

Song Zhigang spent most of his time training at home. He’d seen this tile’s mechanism before—his father had shown him during past matches.

Knowing his father had prepared in advance, Song Zhigang gained some confidence. He pointed at Ma Wu: “Enough talk—let’s fight!”

Ma Wu nodded: “You’re a real man. Let’s settle this.”

The two stood back-to-back against the iron fence, one on each side. The drum beat—and they moved.

Song Zhigang, a Wu Xiu, charged straight at Ma Wu for close combat.

Ma Wu’s gaze swept over Song Zhigang’s eyes. Song Zhigang felt a sudden chill—he thought Ma Wu looked unusually handsome today. He couldn’t afford to ruin that face.

He was under a charm. His strike hesitated. Ma Wu hurled a dagger—straight for his chest.

Song Zhigang dodged just in time. The dagger grazed his shoulder, leaving a bloody gash.

By the time he regained his footing, Ma Wu had retreated five meters away—and began to kite.

His tactics were low, but low-layer Huan Xiu fought this way.

Worse was yet to come. After a few minutes of maneuvering, Song Zhigang suddenly felt his body go numb—Ma Wu’s dagger was poisoned.

“Ma Junyang, you bastard!” Song Zhigang cursed—but only once. In the wild-field match, no rules applied—any tactic was fair.

Song Zhigang glanced at the tile’s position. Pretending exhaustion, he feigned retreat.

Ma Wu advanced to pursue—his foot landed squarely on the tile.

Song Zhigang smiled, waiting for the trap to trigger. Once Ma Wu was caught, the match would end. If Ma Wu refused to yield, he’d fight until he did.

Who cared if he was a fallen young master? Who cared about his backing? First win the match—then protect the Song family’s estate. First—

Strange—why wasn’t the trap activating?

Ma Wu had already stepped off the tile for a long time—why hadn’t the mechanism fired?

Was the trap broken?

Had he misread it?

This had never happened before.

Ma Wu was closing in.

What was there to fear? If he got closer, wasn’t that better? I’m a Wu Xiu—why should I fear a Huan Xiu?

They closed in. The more they fought, the more Song Zhigang’s nerves frayed.

Ma Wu’s skill was impressive—he’d trained in martial arts too.

Song Zhigang was wounded and poisoned. If this close combat dragged on, he feared he’d lose.

But if he didn’t close in, wouldn’t he lose even faster?

In truth, Song Zhigang wasn’t at a disadvantage in close combat. His confusion came from Ma Wu’s special technique.

Under Ma Wu’s gaze, Song Zhigang’s thoughts grew increasingly chaotic—he was under Ma Wu’s confusion art.

He felt every move was wrong, driven back step by step—until his foot suddenly landed on a stone.

Crack!

That stone felt wrong.

Beneath it was a pit—not deep, but enough to trap half his leg.

Song Zhigang fell in, crashing to the ground.

Ma Wu stepped forward and kicked him hard in the face: “Yield?”

Before Song Zhigang could react, Ma Wu kicked him again: “Zhu Shican—excellent for traps. You think only the Song family knows how to use them? I can’t find them?”

“They’re from Xindi. Hard to raise, so I never bothered catching them.”

Last night, Li Banfeng had hidden in the wild field, using the tethered earring to eavesdrop on Song Jiasen and Song Zhiyi’s conversation—and thus learned of the trap.

After killing the two, Li Banfeng had planned to destroy the trap—but Ma Wu said he knew how it worked. He rushed to Xindi overnight, captured two Zhu Shican, and modified the trap.

He did it to leave a backup plan for the wild-field match.

Song Zhigang didn’t know the details—but he knew the outcome.

The outcome: the Song family had lost. Utterly.

Even the trap Song Jiasen had mastered had been altered. This proved one thing.

The Song family had made a fatal mistake from the start—they’d chosen the wrong opponent.

With someone like Ma Wu, you should never have fought him in the first place.

If he wants to hunt, let him hunt. If he wants to make money, let him make money. The Song family didn’t need these few coins—why drag this out?

Now what do we do?

Song Zhigang conceded defeat.

The villagers of Lan Yang Village stared in stunned silence.

“Song’s eldest son conceded?”

“What does that mean? Did he just lose outright?”

“Song’s eldest said if his family lost, they’d pack up and leave.”

“What’s this mean? Are we no longer a Song village?”

“Are we becoming a Ma village now?”

Ma Wu stood before Song Zhigang and sneered, “Words must be kept. Go tell your father to pack up and get out—tonight, right now!”

Song Zhigang led his men back to the estate in disgrace.

Will he move?

Of course not.

As long as his father doesn’t give the order, he won’t budge an inch!

He ordered his guards to block the front and back gates, keep watch over every family member, and prepare to hold out against Ma Wu indefinitely.

By seven o’clock, night had fully fallen, and the Song household remained utterly still.

Li Ban said to Xiao Chuan, “Brother, lend me the road roller again. Ma, bring all those stone-eating bugs.”

Song Zhigang, you won’t move, huh?

I’ll tear your house down!

PS: He wasn’t just talking—he was going to do it.

(End of Chapter)