Chapter 75: Mid-Autumn Night, a Lone Blade to the Death Banquet!

Su Ming extended his finger and lightly touched the Soul Dagger swirling with black qi.

It felt cold to the touch.

Yet it was connected to his soul.

Faintly, he could hear the whispers of countless souls within it.

This thing is vicious to others!

To him…

It truly protects its master!

Tonight, while performing in the abandoned theater,

if it weren't for this thing automatically circulating and blocking many soul impacts for him…

"Tsk, no need to say more!"

"Your will, I approve of it!"

Afterwards, his gaze shifted to the second item beside him.

【Bloodline Unity Gu】.

He reached out, and the two gu worms, one large and one small, obediently crawled onto his fingertips, darting back and forth, extremely affectionate.

"Your names are too long!"

Su Ming curled the corner of his mouth into a smile.

"From now on, you'll also take the surname Soul, and be called… Soul Gu!"

They seemed to understand his words.

The two gu worms darted about even faster, overjoyed.

Finally.

Su Ming turned his gaze to the Abyssal Demon Dragon Egg that was affectionately rubbing its little heart-shaped tail against his arm.

He grinned.

"Hmm… calling you Xiao Heizi really isn't very pleasant."

"Eh? I have an idea!"

"Soul Egg!"

"Soul Dagger, Soul Gu, Soul Egg…"

Su Ming clapped his hands.

"All set!"

"Our Soul-generation heavenly team is now officially formed!"

"Hum——"

His phone vibrated, pulling his thoughts back.

It was Zhao Gang.

"Mr. Su!"

"Xing He… Xing He's test results are all out! All indicators are normal!"

"We'll pick her up tomorrow to spend Mid-Autumn at home!"

Hearing that, Su Ming's expression softened for a moment.

"Then that's good."

"Happy Mid-Autumn!"

"Definitely! Definitely!"

Zhao Gang replied repeatedly.

"By the way!"

Zhao Gang lowered his voice.

"Black Shadow on that side, I've made contact!"

"They saw the Altar Fragments and didn't ask further, directly letting me join!"

"They're members of the Outer Core!"

"Outer Core?"

Su Ming's motion paused.

"Just like Xia Weiwei."

"In the end, it's still low‑tier!"

"Put bluntly, it's just slightly higher‑grade cannon fodder, able to be harvested like leeks at any time."

"The hierarchy within the Black Shadow organization seems strictly enforced to the extreme."

"Those who truly hold power in the core layers are probably all deeply hidden."

"By the way, Mr. Su, they seem to have many strongholds in Jiangzhou!"

"I've been assigned to a large logistics warehouse stronghold in the east city, and I'll report there tomorrow!"

"East city?"

Su Ming's eyes flashed with realization.

"Indeed, it's not that Eagle Lord's chemical plant."

"Black Shadow's this game is only getting bigger!"

"Remember, watch more, listen more!"

Su Ming emphasized his tone.

"At the same time, protect yourself—you have a wife and daughter who love you!"

"I… I understand!"

He hangs up the phone, and the room falls back into dead silence.

Su Ming gets up, grabs the mooncakes he bought earlier, a bottle of sorghum liquor, and the old radio his father left behind.

He drags a small stool and sits under the eaves at the doorway.

Looking up, he can see the bright moon in the sky, clear as a jade plate.

The moonlight is crisp and cold like frost.

Su Ming twists off the bottle cap and pours the spicy liquor onto the empty ground before him.

To the heavens!

To the earth!

To father and mother!

Then he tilts his head and gulps down a large mouthful, the fiery alcohol shooting straight toward the Heavenly Spirit Cover.

"Cough… cough cough!"

Whether I say it or not, it's quite spicy!

He turns the radio's knob.

After a noisy electric hum, a bleak, soaring vocal line bursts through the air.

"If I don't go, wouldn't I be ridiculed by Eastern Wu?"

"Think of my family sending troops for years, dominating the world—how could we fear those Eastern Wu youngsters!"

The piece being played is the classic Beijing opera —

"Single Blade Meeting"!

Su Ming silently breaks off a piece of the pepper‑salt mooncake his father loved most and stuffs it into his mouth.

Salty and sweet, just like that man's deep love.

He then picks up a piece of the red‑bean paste his mother liked, soft and delicate.

As if it were her embrace.

Finally, he takes the egg‑yolk lotus‑seed paste that belongs to him.

One sip of liquor, one bite of cake.

In the moonlight, his shadow stretches long, lonely as a spear that pierces the heavens and earth.

"Dad, why does this Guan Yu have to go?"

"You don't know a damn thing!"

Back then, the man drank until his face was flushed red, his voice booming.

"Guan Er Ye single‑blade meeting, doesn't he know it's a dragon's pool, tiger's den? Of course he knows!"

"The reason he still goes is because he is Guan Yu! He is the Saint of War!"

"This isn't reckless, you brat! This is responsibility! This is heroic spirit!"

"Knowing there are tigers on the mountain, yet still heading to the tiger mountain! Understand?!"

…

"Heh!"

Under the eaves, Su Ming drinks his liquor, eats his cake, and a bitter smile curls at the corner of his mouth.

Got it!

How could I not understand!

Isn't it just a single‑blade meeting?!

Raise a blade, enter a perilous place, confront a gang of ruffians!

"Dad, later… you have to watch carefully, learn well!"

"Look at you, my incompetent son, how much you resemble!"

The bright moon in the sky quietly disappears.

It is swallowed by thick black clouds that rise from nowhere, layer upon layer.

The whole world darkens in an instant.

The wind stops.

The air becomes damp and oppressive.

"Tick—!"

Rain falls from the pitch‑black night sky, announcing the arrival of a new day.

Su Ming glances at his phone screen.

Midnight.

Lunar calendar, the fifteenth day of the eighth month.

Mid‑Autumn Festival.

Su Ming's expression is devout, and he murmurs softly.

"Mid‑Autumn…"

"Peace and joy."

"Together and whole."

After uttering a few blessings, he exhausts the last trace of warmth in his heart.

Murderous intent spreads instantly!

In the radio, the tune of the Single Sword Society kept playing.

"Look at the Yangtze above, a thousand layers of massive waves—what a river scene!"

Su Ming stopped listening.

"Snap!"

The radio's power switch was pressed.

The bleak, soaring vocal line abruptly halted.

The drama—I've heard enough.

The wine—finished.

It's time for me to make my own entrance!

He picked up the Big Black Umbrella leaning against the Gate.

"Swish—!"

The black umbrella unfolded like a massive ebony shield, isolating him from this cold world.

It also blocked the Gray Rain that could format all the extraordinary!

"Tap tap tap…"

Raindrops hammered the umbrella's surface densely, like war drums beating.

Urging him…

Onward!

"Clang—"

The Slaughterhouse's iron Gate was locked.

Su Ming didn't look back, holding the Big Black Umbrella, humming the earlier Beijing‑opera tune, and stepped into the endless rain curtain.

"The great river flows eastward in a thousand layers of waves; seize the West Wind with a single leaf‑sized boat!"

"Just left the Nine‑layer Treasure Tent, now probing a thousand‑foot Dragon Pool and Tiger's Den!"