Chapter 749: Dead Heart, Broken Thought

"Old Seven, you've met Yu, you've met Sun Sun Tiecheng, and you know where Fool's City is—can you help me out one last time?" Old Train pleaded sincerely.

"Give me a chance to explain everything to Sun Sun Tiecheng."

But Li Li Banfeng found it difficult: "Brother, I don't think this matter can be clarified—I still don't know who among you is truly at fault."

Old Train had thought long and hard: "If you count it all up, we're both at fault."

"Yes, we're both at fault—but where exactly? How can it ever be clarified? And even if it were, would it matter?" Li Li Banfeng still had no answer.

The old train eunuch sighed deeply: "Forget it. I never said anything."

The room fell silent for a long while, then Li Li Banfeng stood up: "I'll go to Fool's City and tell Sun Cheng about this. Whether he's willing to see you—that's his decision."

That day, Li Li Banfeng went to Fool's City.

Sun Sun Tiecheng and Gui were stewing meat at home; when he saw Li Li Banfeng arrive, Sun Sun Tiecheng grinned: "You brat, you finally remember to come back? Smelled the meat, huh? Come on, let's have a drink!"

Li Li Banfeng hadn't come empty-handed—he brought two roasted chickens and two jars of fine wine from Zhengjing Village; the three ate and drank together.

Sun Sun Tiecheng asked: "Old Seven, I heard there was a battle at San Tou Cha."

"Master, your news travels fast," Li Li Banfeng poured more wine into Sun Sun Tiecheng's cup. "We won that battle decisively."

Sun Sun Tiecheng nodded: "Gui got word—he says Lao Xu even showed up. I never thought he'd do anything useful after leaving that patch of land. He led his disciples and wiped out the Dangkou Camp."

The Dangkou Camp was a wound in Sun Sun Tiecheng's heart; speaking of it required care. Li Li Banfeng said: "That Dangkou Camp isn't the same as the one from back then—it's far weaker."

Sun Sun Tiecheng smiled: "Don't try to soften it. I heard Shi Ba Lun went too. He knows exactly what kind of force the Dangkou Camp was—what did he tell you?"

"He said—" Li Li Banfeng raised his wine cup and smiled. "Master, you're pushing too hard."

"Too hard?" Sun Sun Tiecheng laughed. "You've grown up—hard to get anything out of you now. I won't beat around the bush—just tell him to come see me himself."

Li Li Banfeng set down his wine bowl: "Master, you figured it out?"

Sun Sun Tiecheng smiled: "What's there to figure out? It's just that old business. Gui, isn't that right?"

Smiling Ghost Wang Gui Gui Jianchou picked up his large bowl: "I'll go get you more meat."

Sun Sun Tiecheng turned to Gui Gui Jianchou: "What are you afraid of? You never backed down before—why are you scared now?"

Gui Gui Jianchou brought over a bowl of soup, lowered his head, and drank silently, saying nothing.

Sun Sun Tiecheng picked up a piece of meat—three parts lean, seven parts fat—slid it into his mouth with broth and oil, chewed twice, and swallowed it with a gulp of wine: "Old Seven, after we've eaten and drunk our fill, I'll write you a letter. Deliver it to Shi Ba Lun."

"You must promise me—you won't read it. If you do, I'll know. And if you read it, nothing in the letter counts."

Li Li Banfeng nodded: "I won't read it. But I need to know what's in it."

Sun Sun Tiecheng chuckled: "You brat, no pretense at all—just blurt it out? The letter says when and where we'll meet. This is between him and me. You can't come along. Don't show your face—if you do, both of us will be in trouble. You must promise me this."

Li Li Banfeng said: "I'll promise—but I need to know for sure."

Sun Sun Tiecheng lifted his wine bowl: "You'll know for sure by tomorrow. If he doesn't come find you, come find me."

Li Li Banfeng delivered the letter back. Old Train opened it, read it once, his fingers trembling, then burned it to ash: "I've memorized the location."

Sun Sun Tiecheng lifted his wine bowl and said, "You'll have a definite answer by tomorrow—if he doesn't come back to you, come find me."

Old Train thought, quickly gathered the ash, rubbed it between his palms, and it reformed into paper—he read it again, memorizing the time.

Li Li Banfeng asked: "Are you really going tomorrow?"

Old Train nodded: "Don't follow me. I won't let you. Brother, I'm tired—I want to rest. Tomorrow, I'll meet Sun Sun Tiecheng."

Li Li Banfeng walked to the door, turned back: "Sun Sun Tiecheng may not want to hear you apologize."

"I know," Old Train lay down and fell asleep.

Li Li Banfeng took two steps, then turned again: "You're not going to apologize, are you?"

Old Train began to snore.

Early the next morning, Old Train raced toward Xin Di.

The meeting place with Sun Sun Tiecheng was near Zhengjing Village—technically, Old Train didn't need to arrive so early.

But following the cultivation instinct of a traveler to avoid misfortune, he felt arriving early was better than late.

By the time he reached Zhengjing Village, the appointed time was still far off—but the danger felt increasingly acute.

Was it because he hadn't arrived early enough?

Had Sun Sun Tiecheng come the night before to prepare?

Why was the danger growing closer?

Sun Sun Tiecheng had chosen the spot—he must have set an ambush. Why then was he coming out to meet him?

As Old Train assessed the situation, he suddenly saw several men carrying a bridal sedan chair, playing music as they approached.

Who would be getting married in Xin Di?

The sedan chair drew nearer; Old Train realized he should keep his distance—when suddenly, A Yi lifted the curtain.

She shouted: "Quick! Get the groom!"

At the sight of A Yi, Old Train's face twisted.

Why was A Yi here?

Was this Sun Sun Tiecheng's doing?

No—it shouldn't be.

Against an opponent like Old Train, Sun Sun Tiecheng would never push his daughter forward.

Even if he wanted to, he couldn't—A Yi wouldn't obey him.

Then who had brought A Yi here?

The bearers sprinted toward Old Train; A Yi leapt onto the top of the sedan chair, holding a steel fork in her left hand and a fishing net in her right, laughing loudly.

"Quick! Grab your gear! Take him alive! Don't let him escape!"

Old Train turned and ran—just two steps, then his foot plunged into emptiness—he'd stepped into a trap.

A trap was no problem—he could fly!

He soared over eight feet—then his body grew heavy and plummeted.

Qiu Qiu Luoye grabbed his legs below and used the move "Elephant Pressing a Thousand Jun" to drag him down.

Old Train looked down, gritted his teeth: "Qiu the Elephant—I treated you well once!"

Qiu Qiu Luoye replied: "Wheel Brother, don't hate me. If you go to Hulucun, I can go home."

As he spoke, A Yi arrived with her fishing net.

Thirty li south of Zhengjing Village, beside a road bend, stood a tea pavilion. Sun Sun Tiecheng had bought it out, dismissed the tea seller, and prepared the stove and water.

He sat cross-legged on the ground, humble and still, waiting for Old Train.

A minute before ten, someone arrived.

Sun Sun Tiecheng rose, poured another cup of tea: "You're early. Have some tea."

"Tea?" A man turned the corner toward the stall—he looked younger than Old Train, around fifty, slender as if a breeze might knock him over.

It wasn't Old Train—but Sun Sun Tiecheng knew this man: Shan Chengjun.

Hearing Sun Sun Tiecheng's voice, Shan Chengjun was startled.

Seeing Shan Chengjun's appearance, Sun Sun Tiecheng was equally surprised.

Shan Chengjun had only heard rumors of an entrance to Fool's City near Zhengjing Village—he'd come to test his luck, never expecting to meet Sun Sun Tiecheng.

Sun Sun Tiecheng had opened the tea stall for Old Train, never imagining the first visitor would be Shan Chengjun.

Shan Chengjun's arrival wasn't a problem—open for business, anyone could come.

Sun Sun Tiecheng opened a tea stall for the old train, never expecting the first customer to be Shan Chengjun.

Shan Chengjun sat at the stall, smiling: "Old Sun, when did you switch to this trade?"

Sun Sun Tiecheng handed him the tea: "Just bought it today—my skills are still poor. Try it."

Shan Chengjun sipped, then asked: "Did you poison it?"

Sun Sun Tiecheng laughed: "That's a silly thing to say—would I not poison you if you came?"

Shan Chengjun tasted it again—the poison was strong. He set down the cup, spat once: "You're even more ridiculous. Do we have such a deep grudge that you still hold it after all this time?"

Sun Sun Tiecheng clasped his hands, thought: "Is our grudge not deep enough?"

Shan Chengjun shook his head: "I say it's not. When the Sage destroyed my family, didn't I still fight for the Peddler? Did I hold a grudge?"

Sun Sun Tiecheng traced the logic: "That's wrong. You held a grudge—but it was against the Sage.

When you killed the Sage, didn't that settle it?"

Shan Chengjun said: "You know only half. Now I serve the Sage—that's called letting go of past grievances."

Sun Sun Tiecheng raised his thumb: "I admire you. How you treat your enemies is your business—but what about our grudge? Shouldn't we settle it?"

Shan Chengjun smiled: "Don't rush. First, tell me—what grudge do we even have?"

Sun Sun Tiecheng fanned the stove, carefully boiling the tea: "You destroyed Fool's City—wasn't that a grudge?"

Shan Chengjun added more charcoal: "How many of my best men did you kill? Didn't they all have wives, children, parents? How do you count that grudge?"

Sun Sun Tiecheng watched the fire: "Back then, we served different masters—can that count as a grudge?"

Shan Chengjun added more water: "The Peddler defeated you—you surrendered. Did that erase the grudge?"

Sun Sun Tiecheng nodded: "The Peddler said it was over—that's when it ended!"

Shan Chengjun said: "Then today, I surrender to you too—does that mean our grudge is over?"

Sun Sun Tiecheng set down the fan: "Are you mocking me?"

Shan Chengjun shook his head: "I'm not mocking. I'm reasoning. I always wanted to reason with the Peddler—he wouldn't listen!"

"Is this reasoning?"

Shan Chengjun shook his head: "I'm not joking—I came to reason with you. I originally wanted to reason with the peddler, but he wouldn't listen!"

"Is this reason?"

"Let's talk this through properly—how is this not reasonable?"

Sun Sun Tiecheng wasn't angry at all; he pulled over a wooden bench, sat down in front of Dan Chengjun, and spoke calmly: "On the battlefield, when eyes turn red from blood, some things can't be let go—I understand that."

Dan Chengjun nodded: "You understand!"

Sun Sun Tiecheng continued: "Men die for wealth, birds die for food—everyone wants to grab an advantage when they see one. I understand that too."

+

Dan Chengjun fully agreed: "If you understand all this, you shouldn't hate me!"

Sun Sun Tiecheng shook his head: "I don't hate you for that. Greed isn't wrong—but you must know your own limits. When the Peddler handed you the army, how could you have accepted it?"

Dan Chengjun blinked: "What? When did he ever hand me the army?"

Sun Sun Tiecheng went on: "Do you even know who's in that army? Can you control men like Dan Chengjun and Shu Wanjuan?"

Dan Chengjun still didn't get it: "Who are you even talking to?"

"You have no diamond drill, yet you insist on taking on porcelain work. In two days you went mad, Dan Chengjun rebelled—how could I not hate you?"

Dan Chengjun frowned: "Are you mistaking me for Eighteen Wheels? Open your eyes and look closely—who am I?"

"You're not Eighteen Wheels?" Sun Sun Tiecheng was startled. "I summoned Eighteen Wheels—why did you show up? I thought he was pretending to be you to trick me."

"You summoned Eighteen Wheels?" Dan Chengjun tensed, then laughed. "If you really had summoned him, you wouldn't have said so. You're using this trick on me—you're seriously underestimating me."

Sun Sun Tiecheng waved his hand: "I'm not underestimating you. Let me guess—you're not Eighteen Wheels, so you must be the Peddler."

Dan Chengjun was startled: "He's coming too?"

"No, no!" Sun Sun Tiecheng shook his head. "If I'd really summoned him, I wouldn't have mentioned it. Are you the Peddler?"

Dan Chengjun ruffled his hair and wiped his face: "Look closely—I'm not the Peddler."

"Then you're Eighteen Wheels. You're a deceitful bastard—you went mad and dragged Fool's City down with you."

Dan Chengjun said: "Who's mad—you or me?"

"Need I ask? Obviously you're mad. Eighteen Wheels went mad—everyone in the world knows that."

"The Peddler's a useless fool—he promised to secure Fool's City, yet handed it over to a madman."

"Eighteen Wheels couldn't protect Fool's City. In the end, you're the one who ruined it!"

Dan Chengjun stood up from the bench: "I don't know if you're faking madness or stupidity. I came here today about Did Honglian."

Sun Sun Tiecheng nodded: "You came at the right time—Did Honglian is in my hands. See if you have the skill to take it."

Dan Chengjun rolled up his sleeves: "Finally, something sensible. I just want to borrow Did Honglian for a few days—truly borrow, not steal. I'll leave you a promissory note, and when I return it, I'll give you some elixirs as interest. You won't lose out."

Sun Sun Tiecheng shook his head: "I don't believe you. You promised to help me defend Fool's City—and you failed."

"I never promised you that. Who did you make that promise to? Go find them!" Dan Chengjun prepared to strike.

Sun Sun Tiecheng smiled: "You don't want to reason, then? Let's settle this with force?"

"Should've done this long ago!" Dan Chengjun flicked his wrist and revealed the Peddler's wheel.

It was a shock—and a warning—to Sun Sun Tiecheng.

Sun Sun Tiecheng was no fool: "That's the Peddler's wheel?"

Dan Chengjun spun the wheel: "Still want to fight me?"

Sun Sun Tiecheng asked: "Where's your cart?"

"I don't have a cart!"

"No cart, yet you have a wheel?" Sun Sun Tiecheng casually threw his teapot at Dan Chengjun's head.

Dan Chengjun didn't dodge—the scalding hot liquid steamed in his hair.

It wasn't because Sun Sun Tiecheng was fast—it was because Dan Chengjun was thinking: Why would someone have a wheel without a cart?

This was Fool's Art!

Dan Chengjun snapped back to awareness instantly.

Though he'd thought for less than a second, his focus was absolute—he didn't even flinch as boiling liquid poured over his head.

And honestly, it hurt. Dan Chengjun asked: "What kind of water is this?"

Sun Sun Tiecheng answered honestly: "Molten iron."

Dan Chengjun looked at the teacup: "Then what was the tea I drank earlier?"

"Tea leaves steeped in molten iron."

Dan Chengjun hurled the teacup at Sun Sun Tiecheng. Sun Sun Tiecheng ducked—but the cup chased him around, and Dan Chengjun struck from behind, sandwiching him between cup and wheel, about to land the blow.

Sun Sun Tiecheng suddenly swapped positions with the teacup. Dan Chengjun couldn't dodge—the cup smashed squarely into his face.

It hurt, but not badly. What confused him was how Sun Sun Tiecheng's position had changed—was it Fool's Art, or an illusion?

Probably Fool's Art—though it felt half-real, half-fake.

Dan Chengjun charged forward with the wheel, silent, focused only on combat—he now avoided speaking to Sun Sun Tiecheng entirely.

"This wheel's impressive!" Sun Sun Tiecheng drew a short blade—crafted from Did Honglian, his finest weapon. After two clashes, its spokes were sheared off by the wheel's rim.

The wheel's edge was sharpened—it could slash like a blade, block like a shield, and spin to launch hidden projectiles. With such a weapon and Dan Chengjun's skill, Sun Sun Tiecheng was driven back step by step.

Yet despite the upper hand, every strike just barely missed—the wheel's edge scraped Sun Sun Tiecheng's facial hairs clean, yet never broke skin.

Was this Hundred-Step Cross?

When did Sun Sun Tiecheng learn Traveler's Art?

Puff!

Sun Sun Tiecheng slipped past the wheel and stabbed Dan Chengjun in the chest. He smiled: "You stand like a wooden post—how can you fight me? Traveler's Art requires motion. Only when you move do you gain power."

Dan Chengjun took the stab, unharmed—but he didn't understand: wasn't Sun Sun Tiecheng's blade broken?

Why was it whole when it pierced him?

Was it even the same blade?

Sun Sun Tiecheng began running. Dan Chengjun chased him—and once moving, his strikes became far smoother.

The wheel swept sideways, striking Sun Sun Tiecheng's back—blood welled.

Hit!

You must move to fight!

As Dan Chengjun sprinted, he raised the wheel and brought it down vertically, slicing a half-foot-long gash across Sun Sun Tiecheng's chest.

Sun Sun Tiecheng was right—Traveler's Art demands motion. Only motion gives it power.

Li Banfeng lay flat on the ground, watching intently.

This was the true essence of a challenge, wasn't it?

Dan Chengjun chased Sun Sun Tiecheng, striking faster, growing wilder with each blow.

Sun Sun Tiecheng was covered in wounds, drenched in blood.

Seizing Sun Sun Tiecheng's unsteady footing, Dan Chengjun stomped forward, unleashing Tread Through Wan Chuan, ready to end the fight.

The kick was powerful—Dan Chengjun's strength and speed carved a crater and kicked up a cloud of dust.

Sun Sun Tiecheng burst from the dust, driving his blade straight into Dan Chengjun's chest.

The cold blade twisted inside his ribcage—only then did Dan Chengjun awaken to reality.

He wasn't a Traveler.

That wasn't Tread Through Wan Chuan.

It was nothing—just a trick by Sun Sun Tiecheng.

The blade churned inside his belly. Dan Chengjun felt no strength left. He asked Sun Sun Tiecheng: "Why not cut my neck? One slash, my head falls."

Sun Sun Tiecheng smiled: "Your neck isn't that easy to cut. Your head won't fall so easily—but this wound? You're dead."

Dan Chengjun's mouth filled with blood. He felt hundreds of blades slicing and shredding his insides.

He asked: "What technique is this? Can you teach me one? Fool's Art is too useful."

"Want to learn? Listen first. This technique is called Seeing Through Life and Death. Calm your mind. Don't dodge. Don't block. Let the blade cut. You have no hope of survival—so accept death willingly. When you truly see this, the technique is mastered."

"That's it?" Dan Chengjun laughed, eyes rolling back. "Accept death willingly? Then I've mastered it."

Sun Sun Tiecheng twisted the hilt, pressing harder.

Dan Chengjun felt a thousand blades grinding inside him—not illusion. This blade, forged from Did Honglian, carried the semblance-of-art technique. It looked like one blade, but was made of a hundred tiny blades. Earlier, the wheel had shattered it—not destroyed it—just scattered it. With a little more technique, Sun Sun Tiecheng could reassemble it instantly.

Now inside Dan Chengjun's body, the blades scattered again, shredding his organs to pulp. Sun Sun Tiecheng was certain Dan Chengjun would die.

Dan Chengjun's awareness faded—he felt no urge to resist.

But Sun Sun Tiecheng knew he wasn't dead.

Not only was he alive—he was changing. Something inside him was killing.

After a long stalemate, one by one, the tiny blades were pushed out of Dan Chengjun's body—dripping blood and flesh, rolling on the ground, then losing their spirit.

After a long stalemate, one by one, small knives were pushed out of Shan Chengjun's body, dripping blood and flesh, rolling on the ground for a moment before gradually losing their spiritual essence.

No—he had no combat awareness. Sun Sun Tiecheng could sense it.

These blades were wounded by Dan Chengjun's own organs.

Sun Sun Tiecheng's judgment was correct: now he had to separate Dan Chengjun from his organs.

How could his organs damage blades?

Sun Sun Tiecheng sensed something—bones pounding, sinews twisting. Could this destroy a blade forged from Did Honglian?

Were Dan Chengjun's organs his weapons?

Sun Sun Tiecheng pressed harder on the blade, desperate to kill him fast—when Dan Chengjun's right hand suddenly shoved him away.

It was Dan Chengjun's right hand—not Dan Chengjun himself. This distinction mattered too.

It is Shan Chengjun's right hand, not Shan Chengjun himself—this must be distinguished.

Sun Sun Tiecheng could sense that Shan Chengjun was still under the control of Yu Xiujì, yet every part of his body moved autonomously.

When Sun Sun Tiecheng closed in again, Shan Chengjun unleashed all the knives still embedded in his body, striking Sun Sun Tiecheng with perfect precision.

These knives were all Sun Sun Tiecheng's own weapons, yet Shan Chengjun wielded them with ease.

Sun Sun Tiecheng used his technique to make the small knives drill out of his own body, coalescing into a single blade, which he pointed at Shan Chengjun: "You're already dead. You can't even speak. Your eyes are rolling back. You've been dead a long time. What are you fighting me for, you walking corpse?"

The technique had been unleashed—and it worked.

Shan Chengjun moved like a walking corpse: legs stiff, body swaying, stumbling toward Sun Sun Tiecheng.

Yet he refused to die!

Sun Sun Tiecheng pulled from his sleeve a cotton-stretching bow—such a large object, no one knew how it had fit inside his sleeve.

This bow was powerful—a top-tier magic treasure. It didn't require Sun Sun Tiecheng to move; it flew on its own toward Shan Chengjun, its string plucking violently against him.

One strike from the bow split skin and flesh; two strikes separated muscle from bone; three strikes shattered the body entirely.

Sun Sun Tiecheng and the bow attacked Shan Chengjun together, yet neither he nor the bow landed a single hit.

Shan Chengjun used no special techniques—only evasion. Yet each dodge was flawless, avoiding every strike from the bow and leaving Sun Sun Tiecheng no opening.

"What are you still standing for, dead man? Just lie down!" Sun Sun Tiecheng felt something was wrong. He activated his technique again—it worked once more—but Shan Chengjun still did not fall.

Sun Sun Tiecheng swept his sleeve, revealing over a dozen weapons.

This was extremely risky—during combat with Shan Chengjun, many weapons became his own.

But Sun Sun Tiecheng felt delaying was even riskier; he had never seen such a state in any other Wu Xiu.

The dozen weapons aided Sun Sun Tiecheng in assault, surrounding Shan Chengjun—yet he remained unharmed.

Suddenly, he halted the cotton-stretching bow and fired three shots at Sun Sun Tiecheng. Sun Sun Tiecheng couldn't dodge—he was struck hard, collapsing, unable to rise.

Sun Sun Tiecheng was not alive, but his flesh and bones were real—he felt his flesh sliding over his bones, the bones slowly separating from one another.

Shan Chengjun lifted the cartwheel, scattered the other weapons, drew back the bow, and prepared to fire again at Sun Sun Tiecheng.

The bowstring twanged—Sun Sun Tiecheng couldn't dodge. If he tried, his entire skeletal frame would fall apart.

But the shot missed—Old Firecar seized Sun Sun Tiecheng and leapt aside in one bound.

Logically, Shan Chengjun, seeing Old Firecar standing beside Sun Sun Tiecheng, should have shown some fear.

Yet Shan Chengjun showed no reaction at all—left hand gripping the bow, right hand holding the cartwheel—still chasing Sun Sun Tiecheng.

Sun Sun Tiecheng said to Old Firecar: "Shan Chengjun's abilities have grown. I gave you all my best things—and still, I can't beat him."

Old Firecar looked at Shan Chengjun's appearance: "You can't beat him—it's only natural. Your Dao sect has lost its power."

Sun Sun Tiecheng stood up: "What nonsense? Isn't the number-one Dao sect still supreme?"

Old Firecar shook his head: "It's hard to say who's number one now. I met Old Xu—he told me Wu Xiu now have techniques. I never believed him."

Sun Sun Tiecheng stared in shock: "You're saying this is a technique?"

Old Firecar nodded: "This is Shan Chengjun's own creation—Dead Heart, Cut Thought."