Chapter 271

Following this explosive shout, a figure shot over at extreme speed, grabbing Wu Fei's shoulder and giving a hard fling. The strike was like thunder, swift beyond belief.

The figure straightened, this red-robed figure was undoubtedly Seventh Grandfather Yang; at the critical moment, it was he who rescued me from Wu Fei's grasp.

"It's him, be careful, it's him who hurt me." Chen Zheng crouched at the doorway, looking at Seventh Grandfather Yang in alarm as he warned me.

"You brat, you know nothing, I'm his uncle." Seventh Grandfather's nature was always coarse; he didn't even bother with Chen Zheng standing frozen at the door, sat down and repeatedly cast fire technique to dispel the frost for me.

Wu Fei was flung by Seventh Grandfather, crashing heavily to the ground, but Wu Fei, being an ice-armored corpse, had extraordinarily tenacious vitality. Before long, Wu Fei sprang up, his frost-covered arm lashing out fiercely at Seventh Grandfather.

I just watched Wu Fei charge at Seventh Grandfather, wanting to shout a warning, but most of my body was covered in frost, completely immobilized; I could only watch the ferocious Wu Fei reach for the back of Seventh Grandfather's head.

However, just as Wu Fei was about to strike the back of Seventh Grandfather's head, something astonishing happened: a red light seemed to flash in the air, a brilliant light pierced through Wu Fei's brow, and then I saw Wu Fei collapse unwillingly; his cold, merciless eyes, besides numbness, held a hint of relief.

With a boom, Wu Fei fell to the ground; at the doorway stood a mighty, towering figure, as steadfast as a mountain—it was Pangzi's father, QingSongShu.

A scorching force took root and sprouted within my body, gradually dispelling the freeze, yet as this fiery power spread, I occasionally felt sharp pains in my heart. Although the Flaming Light fire technique could dispel frost, for my Yin Mountain cultivation it still inflicted unavoidable harm.

After Seventh Grandfather dispelled the frost for me, I could barely hold back a mouthful of blood, staggered to my feet, and Seventh Grandfather helped me over to QingSongShu's side.

QingSongShu's scorching aura was even stronger; though he had his hands behind his back, I could clearly see two horizontal lines on his forehead, which from afar looked like an eye.

"QingSongShu..." I whispered weakly; QingSongShu waved his hand, indicating I needn't say more, then walked over to the fallen Wu Fei on the ground.

Wu Fei's limbs stiffened as he fell; his ashen-white face, like frost, gradually turned to the color of death—wasn't that the pallor of a corpse?

I saw what seemed like a hint of a smile in Wu Fei's eyes, as if he were relieved of a burden.

QingSongShu crouched beside Wu Fei, but as he touched Wu Fei's face, a white mass flew out from Wu Fei's chest.

It was a white worm with wings, its body seemingly coated in a thin layer of ice, moving extremely fast, aiming for the box in Wu Fei's bosom that held five gold plates.

Even though Seventh Grandfather and QingSongShu unleashed fire techniques in an instant, their speed still couldn't match that white worm; in the span of a breath, the worm snatched the box and fled swiftly.

"All for nought..." I sighed gloomily in my heart.

At that moment, Seventh Grandfather and QingSongShu suddenly became strange, exchanging a grave glance, their faces solemn as they slowly rose.

Seventh Grandfather, QingSongShu, I, and Chen Zheng carried the three ice sculptures back to Chan Yi Hall. Since Han Duo, Pangzi, and Fan Wuchang's condition differed from mine, frost had already covered their entire bodies. Thus Seventh Grandfather, besides using fire techniques and warm fire to dispel the frost for them, also boiled a pot of dung soup similar to the one Han Duo used for bathing, and threw all three into it.

Earlier, Pangzi personally prepared a pot of dung soup for Han Duo—needless to say, he was delighted; who would have thought the world would turn, fortunes shift? Receiving the same treatment, old Pangzi had to endure it once again.

When they came out, Pangzi kept a stern face; seeing me stand aside, he strained to hold back a smile, then glanced at me and coldly said, "Watch me eat*, you look quite happy."

"It's quite pleasant, rare to see you eat humble pie." I laughed, covering my mouth; I've always been the so-called honest, cute, handsome boy who never lies.

Pangzi, without a word, wiped the yellow liquid from the corner of his mouth and shoved it into my mouth.

I had no time to dodge; by the time I reacted, I tasted a strange, bitter flavor.

"Pah pah pah..." Just as I rolled up my sleeves, ready to brawl with Pangzi, QingSongShu and Seventh Grandfather emerged from the room with solemn faces; seeing their grave expressions, I and Pangzi dared not speak.

Chen Zheng and Fan Wuchang had already left Chan Yi Hall, dismissed by QingSongShu, who apparently didn't want them to interfere in this matter.

"Old Seven, what do you think of this?" QingSongShu's face was grave; it was rare that he didn't call Seventh Grandfather 'rotten bark' this time.

Seventh Grandfather closed his eyes, then opened them, replying: "I don't know, but among the world's mystic sects, only someone versed in worm arts, witchcraft, dabbling in Flaming Light and Yin Mountain techniques, and so concerned with the Wu Mu legacy, could be him."

Pangzi and I heard the name "him" again—just who is he?

Pangzi, being straightforward, couldn't help but ask QingSongShu when he felt confused: "Dad, who exactly is that 'him' you and Seventh Uncle mentioned? Last time we almost got poisoned, you and Seventh Uncle also brought him up."

QingSongShu glanced at me and Pangzi, hesitated with a solemn expression, then told Pangzi: "He is our eldest senior brother."

"What, eldest senior brother?" Pangzi and I exclaimed in doubt. I had heard before that my master, QingSongShu, and Seventh Grandfather seemed to share a thin sect connection, but I'd never heard QingSongShu mention an eldest senior brother. Including Pangzi, I think he hadn't heard of it either.

"Our eldest senior brother is a descendant of the Zhao clan, the imperial family of the Great Song." As Pangzi and I stared in bewilderment, QingSongShu dropped another bombshell.

"What... Great Song imperial clan, descendant" Pangzi nearly popped his eyes out; hearing all day people claim to be Aisin Gioro descendants, now hearing this from Seventh Grandfather's mouth was a hundred times more explosive than any Aisin Gioro claim.

"Mmm..." Seventh Grandfather nodded slowly, then in the tranquil Chan Yi Hall he slowly explained the reasons to us.

QingSongShu, Seventh Grandfather, and my master Li Feng had all once been disciples of a master of the Ma Yi Xiang school; that is, this master was one of their teachers. Above them was a senior brother, below them a junior brother. Including the school itself, the teacher-disciple lineage numbered six.

Initially, the five disciples got along well; their eldest senior brother had profound mastery of the arts, exceptional talent, and while they exchanged notes on their studies, he could rapidly cultivate Yin Mountain, Flaming Light, and Witchcraft techniques in a short time. Needless to say, his personal power stood foremost among the five brothers.

This eldest senior brother usually seemed modest and courteous, a gentle gentleman; who would have thought that after five years together, he would turn against his four fellow brothers and become enemies.

The cause was that my master Li Feng, in an offhand moment, revealed his years of wandering the martial world, and told his fellow brothers that his ancestor had been a descendant of the Great Song general Yue Wangye, whose family had passed down two gold plates; moreover, during his own travels he had fortuitously obtained another two.

My master Li Feng finally fell victim to a sneak attack, the gold plates nearly taken; thanks to QingSongShu, Seventh Grandfather, and the junior brother rescuing him, Li Feng wasn't killed by the eldest senior brother. In the end, fearing the secret would leak, the eldest senior brother spared no effort to strike his former four fellow disciples.

At first everyone only wanted to save lives, but in the end the eldest senior brother, driven by his own obsession, sought to kill the four; the others could only rise in resistance. Though his cultivation was high, he was still just one person—how could he match four brothers? To defeat his four junior brothers, the eldest senior brother fell into heresy, began harvesting souls to boost his power, and devoted himself to studying worm arts and corpse control.

In the final battle, the four joined forces to defeat the eldest senior brother; although his cultivation was abolished, the four also paid a heavy price. My master Li Feng was left with a lingering ailment, the junior brother suffered grave injury, nearly exhausting his cultivation. Such a cost only resulted in mutual loss.

In the end, the four did not strike down the eldest senior brother, out of sect loyalty; the four brothers finally let him go. The eldest senior brother fell into heresy, and the twisted thought that drove him to kill his four brothers stemmed from the gold plates representing the Wu Mu legacy.

It is rumored that this eldest senior brother is a descendant of the Great Song imperial family, who has discerned the secret of the twelve gold plates; to obtain them and restore the glory of the Zhao lineage, he will stop at nothing to seize the plates and the treasure.

Glory may breed pride, but blind glory can also kill. The Great Song's history is centuries past; by rights old grudges should have turned to ashes. Yet in some feudal clans, even reduced to destitution, this deep‑seated glory, the stubborn determination to restore it at any cost, is beyond ordinary comprehension.

For example, it's as if one's ancestor were an emperor, so one's blood ought to be gold and all under heaven should bow at one's feet—obstinate and obsessive, ordinary people cannot fathom what goes through the minds of such fanatics.

Although QingSongShu spoke lightly, without detailing the process, Pangzi and I could sense the peril—it would take the combined strength of QingSongShu and his three comrades to defeat that foe, so the eldest senior brother's abilities must have been heaven‑defying.

Right, QingSongShu, my master Li Feng, Seventh Grandfather—whether you count on fingers or toes, there are only three… so who is the junior brother who nearly perished in his clash with the eldest senior brother?

Just as I wondered, QingSongShu stroked his beard, gave a slight nod, and said: "Our junior brother is Yao Song, heir of the Plowshare Witch Sect. You also know his daughter and son…"

"What..." I was stunned speechless by the news, while Pangzi spat out the tea he had just swallowed with a "puff", cursing "damn it", and blurted: "Holy shit, I never expected Yirong's old man to have been such a badass back then."

"Chen Hai Sheng, Wang Wei Qiang, say—who exactly is it, and who threw Grandfather into the dung pit?" A furious shout, ill‑timed, cut off their conversation; instantly a figure flashed, reeking of stench and brimming with wrath—Han Duo appeared in the hall.

Han Duo's entrance was incredibly imposing; she kicked the door open violently, the door flew back and knocked over the Flaming Light deity statue in the hall. Immediately she swooped before everyone, hands on hips, her pretty face as cold as frost.