Chapter 112: Dimensional Suppression in the Martial World

“My young prince is still young and inevitably a bit unruly; if he offended Itachi, I apologize on his behalf—please show mercy and let this matter rest.”

The lama reacted quickly; sensing his enemy was beyond brute force, he immediately softened his stance.

Fear he had, certainly.

But the lama knew well: if anything happened to the young prince here, he and Liang Ziweng would be the first to die.

He bowed with both hands, but his arms flailed like Doraemon’s—so bizarre that the onlookers couldn’t help laughing.

Young prince?

Chu Yang glanced at the old man beside him named Liang Ziweng, then suddenly remembered something and asked: “Are Itachi Lingzhi Shangren?”

The lama’s face lit up; he hurriedly replied: “I am!”

“This man on the ground is Prince Wanyan Kang of the Zhao Mansion, the only son of Prince Wanyan Honglie. Since Itachi know my name, Itachi must know of Prince Zhao.”

Chu Yang smiled and nodded: “So Itachi’re Prince Zhao—what a coincidence. I was just about to pay Itachi a visit…”

Lingzhi Shangren and Liang Ziweng exchanged glances, both clearly seeing joy in each other’s eyes.

Though the young prince was injured, they had brought back an extraordinary hardening expert; with Prince Zhao’s magnanimity, they expected not punishment but reward.

Liang Ziweng bowed and chuckled: “What a mishap—like floodwaters hitting the dragon’s temple, family not recognizing family. So Itachi, sir, also intend to serve Prince Zhao and the Great Jin?”

Wanyan Kang exhaled in relief—he had nearly thought he’d die here.

But before he could relax, Chu Yang’s next words sent his heart racing to his throat.

“Old man, Itachi’ve misunderstood. I’m going to the Zhao Mansion because my friend was kidnapped by Itachi— I’m here to demand her back.”

Chu Yang sneered: “Go back and tell Wanyan Honglie to bring my friend to me—or today, he may lose his lineage forever.”

Wanyan Kang trembled violently.

Liang Ziweng hurriedly helped the wounded Wanyan Kang to his feet; Lingzhi Shangren hesitated, then gritted his teeth and stepped before them to shield them.

“May I ask the name of your friend? When I return to the mansion, I will find him and bring him to Itachi unharmed.”

Wanyan Kang’s face was pale; his voice was weaker than before.

Chu Yang glanced at him and said: “My friend is surnamed Huang—a little beggar.”

At this, Wanyan Kang and the others stared at each other, unsure how to respond.

A beggar?

How could the mighty Zhao Mansion possibly abduct a beggar?

Wanyan Kang forced a grim smile: “Sir, are Itachi mocking us…?”

Chu Yang replied with a half-smile: “If I truly wanted to amuse myself, wouldn’t it be more fun to hang all three of Itachi from a tree for days?”

Lingzhi Shangren and Liang Ziweng shuddered—Chu Yang’s tone was no joke.

Wanyan Kang took a deep breath and bowed: “Please wait a moment. When I return, I’ll dig up the earth three feet deep to find your friend and bring him to Itachi.”

Chu Yang shook his head: “I never said Itachi could leave.”

Wanyan Kang’s smile froze; the atmosphere turned awkward.

Wanyan Kang, Lingzhi Shangren, and Liang Ziweng slowly shifted their stances, forming a triangular formation—as if preparing to fight to the death.

Suddenly—

A clamor rose around them, followed by synchronized footsteps that made the ground tremble.

The onlookers swiftly scattered to the roadside, clearing a wide path.

From afar marched a military unit; at its center rode a magnificent red palanquin, which soon halted before Wanyan Kang and his companions.

“Kang’er, what are Itachi doing?”

A woman’s voice came from the palanquin—soft, sweet, distinctly Jiangnan in tone.

Wanyan Kang walked slowly to the palanquin and whispered, voice trembling with grievance, that he had been assaulted and begged for the army to deal with Chu Yang.

The woman inside was Wanyan Kang’s birth mother, Bao Xiruo.

She knew her son’s nature well—she suspected he had provoked this trouble, so no matter what he said, she refused to act.

Bao Xiruo had always despised her position as princess; using Jin soldiers to bully others was far beyond her moral line.

Seeing his mother wouldn’t yield, Wanyan Kang abandoned the idea of using the army—but their presence still bolstered his courage.

His attitude toward Chu Yang changed completely; he regained his former arrogance and sneered: “Earlier, I respected your martial skill and treated Itachi kindly out of admiration. But Itachi’re ungrateful and insolent.”

“Now, Itachi have two choices: leave at once—or be taken back to the mansion in chains.”

Chu Yang stared at Wanyan Kang as if he were an idiot: “I’m a petty man. I give Itachi only one choice: stay put, and send someone to bring my friend to me.”

Wanyan Kang narrowed his eyes; a cold killing intent slowly formed within them.

Bao Xiruo, hearing their exchange, called out urgently to Wanyan Kang.

When he approached, she whispered, asking for the full story.

Wanyan Kang reluctantly explained why Chu Yang had confronted him.

Bao Xiruo frowned—how could the vast Zhao Mansion possibly abduct a little beggar?

Bao Xiruo hesitated: “Kang’er, this man may be targeting Itachi…”

Wanyan Kang sensed his mother’s shift in thought and immediately brightened: “He’s using his martial strength to threaten me—he likely wants to use me to pressure Father! The beggar friend? All lies!”

“This criminal must be captured and handed over to Father for judgment!”

Bao Xiruo gently lifted the curtain, studying the scholarly-looking Chu Yang. After a brief pause, she nodded: “Itachi may detain him—but do not kill him. Let us decide his fate once we return to the mansion.”

Wanyan Kang was displeased but agreed not to harm Chu Yang—he knew his mother was kind-hearted.

With Bao Xiruo’s approval, Wanyan Kang gave a signal to the guard captain, who understood instantly and ordered his troops to surround Chu Yang without hesitation.

The onlookers scattered like startled birds, terrified of being caught in the crossfire.

The bald monk who had been shouting “Who else?” on the stage fled in panic.

Mu Nianci, dressed in red, didn’t even glance at him; since the beginning, her eyes had been fixed on Chu Yang.

“Father, Itachi were right—that scholarly-looking man is truly a master!”

Mu Nianci exclaimed:

“He crushed the lama’s bronze cymbal with his bare hands.”

“He’s so young—hardly older than me—and he possesses such formidable hardening skills!”

Yang Tiexin, disguised as “Mu Yi,” heard none of it—his attention was locked on the red palanquin.

Inside it was the voice he had longed for through years.

That gentle, bell-like tone pulled Yang Tiexin’s thoughts back eighteen years—to Niu Family Village.

The stage vanished; in his mind, it became the warm, familiar home.

“Tiege.”

His gentle, virtuous wife stood vividly before him, smiling softly.

Lost in reverie, Yang Tiexin reached out instinctively to touch her face.

The instant his fingers brushed her cheek, everything around him shattered like a dream, dissolving into fragments.

The home was gone!

His wife, his child, his sworn brother Guo Xiaotian, his sister-in-law Li Ping—all gone!

Returning to reality, Yang Tiexin’s eyes turned bloodshot, veins bulging, his expression wild with madness.

He stared fixedly at the palanquin.

Yang Tiexin needed to know—who sat behind that curtain?

In Mu Nianci’s terrified gaze, Yang Tiexin seized a long spear from the weapon rack and leapt from the stage without hesitation—not even speaking to her—alone, he charged forward.

Only after Yang Tiexin had rushed out did Mu Nianci finally scream:

“Father, no!”

The mad Yang Tiexin heard nothing—his only thought was to see his beloved wife again.

Even if death lay ahead, he would charge through it!

Since the guard captain had moved most of the Jin soldiers to surround Chu Yang, only a small detachment stood between Yang Tiexin and the palanquin.

The Yang Family Spear Technique was wide and sweeping—born on the battlefield, it was far more effective against military formations than against martial artists.

Even weakened, Yang Tiexin could still easily handle these Jin soldiers.

In moments, he broke through the thin line and reached fifty paces from the palanquin.

Only Wanyan Kang stood before Yang Tiexin.

Yang Tiexin’s actions enraged Wanyan Kang completely; his eyes blazed with murderous intent.

He had already been humiliated by Chu Yang’s beating.

Now even this lowly performer dared to attack him.

Filled with rage, Wanyan Kang channeled his inner energy, fingers curling into claws; a chilling, terrifying aura spread silently.

He would crush this middle-aged man’s skull with the Nine Yin White Bone Claw.

At that moment, Lingzhi Shangren and Liang Ziweng both moved to block Yang Tiexin.

If the young prince was injured, Prince Wanyan Honglie might spare them.

But if the princess suffered harm, they would die without mercy.

Lingzhi Shangren’s hands were encased in bronze cymbals—he could not use his signature Great Hand Seal or Poison Sand Palm; his martial power was crippled—he couldn’t kill Yang Tiexin!

So Liang Ziweng became the main force against Yang Tiexin; with Lingzhi’s aid, he suppressed him with Great Grasping Hand.

Had Yang Tiexin not been in a mad, reckless state, fighting with abandon, he would already have been subdued.

As the three battled, Mu Nianci arrived.

Though she didn’t understand why her father had gone mad, her mind held only one thought: aid Yang Tiexin in battle.

Unfortunately, Mu Nianci’s martial arts were even weaker than Yang Tiexin’s, and she couldn’t break through the Jin soldiers’ line, trapped far away.

She could only watch helplessly as Yang Tiexin was beaten until he spat blood continuously by Liang Ziweng and Lingzhi Shangren.

“Someone, please save my father!”

As Mu Nianci fought the Jin soldiers, she silently prayed desperately in her heart.

On the other side, under the command of the guard captain, more soldiers launched attacks against Chu Yang.

The guard captain knew Chu Yang was a hardened martial artist, so he ordered soldiers to wield long spears and strike from multiple angles, trying to find his vital point.

Hardened martial artists impervious to blades and spears were rare, but each had a vital point—if breached, all the skill they had accumulated in a lifetime would be lost.

Facing countless spear tips thrusting at him, Chu Yang watched coldly, unmoved.

His Armament Haki was now so strong that even ordinary weapons couldn’t pierce it, let alone Shanks’ sword, Griffon.

When spear tips struck Chu Yang’s long robe, they shattered instantly.

Dozens of spears snapped simultaneously—a visually stunning scene, as the Jin soldiers now held only shafts, like firewood sticks.

The Jin soldiers still had decent combat discipline; once the front-line spear troops’ weapons were destroyed, they immediately retreated and reformed, letting the rear ranks advance.

Again and again, spears fell like rain upon every inch of Chu Yang’s body.

Once a military formation was in motion, it became an unrelenting killing machine, ceaseless and merciless.

Normally, this was true.

But after seven or eight waves of assault, the Jin soldiers froze—every spear in their hands had become a mere stick.

And the ground was littered with shattered spearheads…

The Jin soldiers stood stunned; behind them, the guard captain and Wanyan Kang were equally stunned.

Wanyan Kang’s face turned crimson; after a long silence, he finally spat out, “What kind of dark art is this?!”

Chu Yang looked at him with a faint, knowing smile. “Itachi’ll find out soon.”

Wanyan Kang’s head spun—he was truly terrified. From birth until now, he had never felt such fear.

Forgetting his mother’s warnings, he screamed hysterically, “All of Itachi, attack! Use your fists, bite with your teeth—kill him!”

The Jin soldiers threw away their bare spear shafts, eyes red, charging forward en masse!

The young prince was enraged—if they failed to kill this scholar today, they would be dead tomorrow.

Chu Yang shook his head, unleashing his full Conqueror’s Haki—a golden storm invisible to the naked eye swept outward.

Like a stone dropped into a calm lake, the ripples of Conqueror’s Haki spread endlessly.

The image of the Jin soldiers charging forward abruptly halted, as if someone had pressed pause.

Nearly a thousand soldiers stood utterly motionless, instantly silent.

The eerie scene sent chills down Wanyan Kang’s scalp, every hair on his body standing on end.

THUD!!

The Jin soldier closest to Chu Yang suddenly collapsed, falling straight to the ground; then others followed like dominoes, one after another.

A vast sea of Jin soldiers lay sprawled on the ground—overwhelmingly shocking.

Seeing this, Wanyan Kang gaped, feeling a crushing sense of suffocation.

Chu Yang’s displayed power had surpassed anything he could comprehend.

Not only Wanyan Kang was terrified—the Lingzhi Shangren and Liang Ziweng, who had been attacking Yang Tiexin, were also paralyzed with horror.

Seizing the opportunity, the grievously wounded Yang Tiexin struck twice, piercing both men’s vital points!

Lingzhi Shangren and Liang Ziweng screamed in agony and collapsed to the ground.

Seeing the unconscious Jin soldiers around her and her father’s miraculous counterattack, Mu Nianci stood frozen.

Had heaven truly heard my plea?

Chu Yang slowly approached Wanyan Kang; as he passed Mu Nianci, she finally realized and asked, “Did Itachi do this?”

Chu Yang nodded, then suddenly stopped, staring at the beautiful red-clad girl before him.

Martial arts contest for marriage.

Wanyan Kang had appeared too.

Then she must be Mu Nianci.

Mu Nianci blushed under Chu Yang’s direct gaze, her lovely face flushing crimson; she lowered her eyes, avoiding his stare.

“Miss Mu, won’t Itachi go check on your father?”

Watching Mu Nianci fidget nervously before him, Chu Yang asked, puzzled.

Mu Nianci gasped, her face redder than ever; without looking back, she ran toward Yang Tiexin, who, wounded and weak, sat slumped on the roadside like Lingzhi Shangren and Liang Ziweng.

Even so, Yang Tiexin’s gaze never left the red sedan.

Mu Nianci supported Yang Tiexin, anxiously asking about his injuries—but he pushed her away.

“Nianci, don’t worry about me. Go lift the curtain of that sedan—let me see who’s inside.”

Mu Nianci stared at her father in confusion. He was severely wounded—why was he still obsessed with who sat in that sedan?

“Go quickly!”

Yang Tiexin shouted urgently, then spat another mouthful of hot blood.

Seeing this, Mu Nianci dared not delay; she rushed toward the sedan.

Wanyan Kang suddenly appeared, blocking her path; he raised his hand to strike—but his wrist exploded in agony.

He looked up to find Chu Yang standing beside him, gripping his wrist.

Wanyan Kang broke into a cold sweat from the pain!

Recalling how he’d been lifted and smashed into the ground earlier, he froze in place.

Bao Xiruo inside the sedan knew nothing of the chaos outside; she only sensed the sudden, eerie silence.

Uneasy, she lifted the curtain slightly, peering out with half her head, calling softly, “Kang’er, what’s happening?”

“Kang’er, how is it going?”

Bao Xiruo received no reply—Wanyan Kang was in too much pain to speak.

Then Mu Nianci hurried to the sedan, yanked open the curtain, revealing the figure within.

She froze.

Inside sat an extraordinarily beautiful woman, whose grace and appearance Mu Nianci had never seen in her life.

“So beautiful…”

That was the only thought left in Mu Nianci’s mind.

What was this stunning woman’s relationship to her father? Why did he insist on seeing her face?

Mu Nianci turned to look at Yang Tiexin.

Yang Tiexin strained his neck, desperate to see the woman’s face.

It was a face nearly identical to the one eighteen years ago—as if time had never touched her.

Yang Tiexin stared, transfixed; tears slipped unbidden down his cheeks.

“Xiruo…”

The middle-aged man’s voice was faint—whether from his wounds, weakness, or shame, he dared not call her name aloud.

Bao Xiruo wore luxurious, elegant robes; her complexion and beauty resembled that of a girl barely sixteen—clearly, she now lived well.

In a daze, Yang Tiexin suddenly remembered: this Bao Xiruo was now the Jin soldiers’ princess.

“She’s a princess… how could she be a princess?”

Yang Tiexin murmured to himself, hollowed out, as if all his spirit had been drained.

When the curtain was fully pulled back, Bao Xiruo saw all the Jin soldiers lying unconscious and her son held captive—she panicked.

Though terrified, maternal instinct drove her to stagger out of the sedan.

Bao Xiruo spoke softly, “My son has offended Itachi, sir. Please, noble sir, spare him. I beg your forgiveness on his behalf.”

Seeing his mother bow to beg for his life, Wanyan Kang’s heart burned with rage.

Summoning courage from nowhere, he roared at Chu Yang, “Villain! Kill me if Itachi dare! If I die here today, Itachi’ll never leave Yanjing!”

“Now Itachi’re brave?” Chu Yang sneered, then lightly stomped his foot—the stone slab beneath him shattered instantly, the ground collapsing three feet deep.

Wanyan Kang gasped in shock; reason instantly overcame his fury, and he bowed his head, sincerely saying, “I’m sorry. I was wrong.”

“Tsk tsk.” Chu Yang looked down on him, then released his wrist and pointed at Lingzhi Shangren and Liang Ziweng. “Itachi wanted to return to the Zhao Mansion? Now they’re incapacitated—go ahead.”

Wanyan Kang’s eyes widened, disbelief mixed with relief.

Chu Yang pointed at Bao Xiruo. “But as compensation, she stays.”

Wanyan Kang turned pale.

Chu Yang patted his shoulder, speaking with deep meaning: “I see your features are pale, your crown blackened—Itachi’re a Tian Sha Gu Xing.”

Wanyan Kang gritted his teeth: “Rest assured, sir, I will bring your friend to Itachi unharmed.”

Chu Yang smiled. “Itachi’ve made this promise twice already. Remember: no third time.”

Wanyan Kang nodded, turned, whispered a few words to Bao Xiruo’s ear, then left.

Only after Wanyan Kang vanished did Bao Xiruo begin to quietly study the man before her, dressed as a scholar.

She suddenly realized Chu Yang might have been telling the truth.

The Zhao Mansion was now a den of rogues, filled with martial artists—perhaps someone truly had taken his friend…

But why would such a powerful master befriend a beggar?

Bao Xiruo frowned, utterly baffled.

She didn’t notice Yang Tiexin still staring at her, lost in thought.

Chu Yang glanced at Yang Tiexin and silently shook his head; the man seemed mentally ill—his wife, lost for eighteen years, was right before him, yet he said not a word.

He had expected Yang Tiexin to recognize his wife immediately, but it seemed this fellow was burdened by shame, too afraid to approach her.

“This kind of spirit is nowhere near Wanyan Honglie’s. It’s only thanks to Bao Xiruo’s deep loyalty that Itachi haven’t been thrown out long ago.”

Chu Yang sighed helplessly.

Mu Nianci noticed Yang Tiexin’s odd behavior.

She could almost be certain there was some connection between them.

Seeing her father hesitate, Mu Nianci gathered her courage and walked up to Bao Xiruo: “Itachi’re the Princess, aren’t Itachi?”

Bao Xiruo looked at the girl who had pulled her from the sedan chair and nodded.

Mu Nianci added, “My father seems to know Itachi.”

Bao Xiruo asked curiously, “Who is your father?”

Mu Nianci pointed to Yang Tiexin in the distance; Bao Xiruo followed her gaze.

A middle-aged man with a face etched by sorrow and hardship came into view. Bao Xiruo stared for a moment, then shook her head. “I don’t know your father. Itachi must be mistaken.”

Her soft voice struck Yang Tiexin’s ears like thunder; the world around him seemed to spin wildly.

Mu Nianci hadn’t expected such an answer and was instantly flustered.

Chu Yang could no longer watch. He walked straight up to Bao Xiruo and said, “That man’s surname is Yang, his given name Tiexin. Itachi know him.”

Upon hearing the name Yang Tiexin, Bao Xiruo’s body trembled violently!

She turned to look at the middle-aged man—his face bore no resemblance to the Yang Tiexin she remembered; it might as well have been a stranger’s.

“Impossible—Tiege died long ago…”

Recalling her husband, Bao Xiruo grew agitated; her voice was resolute, for eighteen years she had believed this without doubt.

Yang Tiexin was dead!

Yet Chu Yang asked just one more question—and shattered her psychological barrier.

“Itachi say Yang Tiexin is dead—but have Itachi ever seen his corpse?”

His calm words struck Bao Xiruo like a thunderclap from clear sky.

“I never saw Tiege’s body, but…”

Bao Xiruo fell silent, slowly lifting her gaze toward the middle-aged man.

At that moment, Yang Tiexin gazed at her with deep emotion.

After Chu Yang had abruptly torn away the veil, he no longer hid.

Though time and suffering may alter a face,

the look in one’s eyes when loving another never changes.

Feeling Yang Tiexin’s gaze, Bao Xiruo’s heart finally cracked. Her voice trembled as she asked, “Are Itachi truly Tiege?”

Yang Tiexin struggled on the ground to rise, but his body refused to obey.

Mu Nianci rushed to his side and helped him up.

Yang Tiexin gasped a few times, then said, “Nianci, pick up my spear.”

Mu Nianci obediently retrieved the spear and handed it to him.

The spear, once as natural as an extension of his arm, now felt impossibly heavy in his blood-loss-weakened grip.

He tried to wield the Yang Family Spear—but as soon as he began the opening stance, the spear slipped from his hands and clattered to the ground. His vision darkened; dizziness overwhelmed him, and he could no longer stand.

Mu Nianci hurried to support him.

Seeing this, Bao Xiruo felt an inexplicable pang of sorrow; worry darkened her face.

Chu Yang knew Yang Tiexin’s severe injuries stemmed from his earlier battle with Lingzhi Shiren and Liang Ziweng.

Liang Ziweng’s martial skill was no joke—before Guo Jing learned the Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms, even with Huang Rong’s aid, he couldn’t defeat him. Lingzhi Shiren was even stronger.

To have survived fighting both men until now was already a testament to Yang Tiexin’s latent potential.

Chu Yang stepped beside Yang Tiexin, placed his hand on his shoulder, and sent a flow of life energy into his body.

Having served as a “support” in many worlds, Chu Yang handled this effortlessly.

As warmth surged through his body, Yang Tiexin’s pain eased dramatically; his expression relaxed.

Within seconds, his condition improved visibly—his pallor turned ruddy, his lost blood and qi clearly restored.

Though his old internal injuries remained, his spirit was vastly improved—even better than before the injury.

Mu Nianci watched her father’s face gradually regain color, speechless with excitement.

Yang Tiexin, feeling utterly revitalized, looked at Chu Yang with complex emotion. This young scholar not only knew his true name, but wielded mysterious abilities—he could not possibly be ordinary!

A fleeting thought passed through him; Yang Tiexin bowed deeply to Chu Yang. “Thank Itachi, Master, for saving my life. Mu—I, Yang Tiexin, will never forget this debt. May I ask your esteemed name?”

“Chu Yang,” came the reply. Chu Yang added, “Itachi still have something to do.”

“Master Chu, please wait a moment. Let me settle this matter, then I shall speak with Itachi further.” With that, Yang Tiexin picked up his spear and walked toward Bao Xiruo.

The cold wind howled.

Yang Tiexin gazed at Bao Xiruo with deep emotion, then began wielding the Yang Family Spear—his movements grand and sweeping, radiating the might of an army breaking through.

To Bao Xiruo, this spear form was unmistakably familiar.

Eighteen years ago, she had watched her husband perform this exact form nearly every day.

Memories surged like a tidal wave, drowning her. Her tears, long held back, spilled uncontrollably.

She finally knew—the middle-aged man she had thought a stranger was her husband, the man she had longed for day and night—Yang Tiexin!

“Tiege!!!”

That soft, trembling voice, thick with sobs, echoed in Yang Tiexin’s ears—so powerful he could no longer hold his spear.

The two, reunited after years apart, embraced tightly, pouring out their stories of separation.

The scene was touching—but Chu Yang found it awkward. He rubbed his nose and turned away, only to see Mu Nianci standing stunned, dazed.

The impact was too great; the girl was speechless—after all, the woman embracing her father was a Princess.

Chu Yang found the girl endearing and couldn’t resist teasing her. He shook his head with mock disapproval: “Senior Yang is truly a man of passion—he embraces without hesitation, and even embraces another man’s wife! Admirable!”

Mu Nianci shot Chu Yang a glare, then quickly softened her expression, whispering, “Master Chu, don’t tease my father. Itachi know his true name—Itachi must know the truth behind this.”

As she spoke, Mu Nianci suddenly realized Chu Yang had been deliberately provoking her—her face flushed crimson.

Chu Yang chuckled. “In mere seconds, Miss Mu, Itachi’ve changed expressions five times. If Itachi took to the stage, Itachi’d be a legendary actress.”

The blush on Mu Nianci’s face spread instantly—her ears and neck turned equally red.

Chu Yang smiled knowingly. This red-clad girl was truly adorable—just like Akatsuki Huang. That fellow sometimes wore the same expression.

Cute. Clumsy. Slightly prickly…

Bad.

Chu Yang’s face darkened instantly, as if facing a deadly foe. He sat up straight, muttering frantically: “I’m straight. I like mature women. I like little girls. I like JK. I like black stockings…”

Mu Nianci stared blankly, utterly confused by his words—but somehow, she felt Master Chu was in a panic.

After muttering for a while, Chu Yang glanced at Mu Nianci’s lovely face and her impossibly long legs.

His pulse quickened.

Good.

Chu Yang finally exhaled in relief.

On the other side, Yang Tiexin and Bao Xiruo, having poured out their hearts, walked toward him, supporting each other.

Yang Tiexin bowed. “Today, our reunion is entirely thanks to Master Chu. Should Itachi ever need anything, I, Yang Tiexin, will die without hesitation.”

Chu Yang waved his hand with a smile. “No need for such words.”

They exchanged a few more words. Yang Tiexin hesitated several times, finally unable to hold back: “I know Master Chu possesses extraordinary abilities, but I’m still curious—how did Itachi know my true name?”

Chu Yang clicked his tongue. This man was truly clueless—still interrogating his savior? Clearly, Wanyan Honglie was better at being human.

Chu Yang raised his hand, fingers flicking rapidly—so fast they left afterimages. The other three stared, dazzled.

“My family has passed down fortune-telling for generations.”

Chu Yang’s divination technique looked professional—Yang Tiexin couldn’t spot a flaw and immediately bowed in admiration. “Master Chu, truly a lineage of deep learning…”

He actually believed that?

Chu Yang couldn’t help rolling his eyes.

Mu Nianci asked curiously, “Father, what’s your relationship with this… Lady?”

Yang Tiexin recounted the events of eighteen years ago.

Mu Nianci finally understood. Her gaze toward Bao Xiruo grew complex.

As a woman herself, she could fully empathize with Bao Xiruo’s suffering.

Mu Nianci was about to speak—then her expression turned awkward.

But Bao Xiruo seized Mu Nianci’s hand gently and said, “Since Itachi are Tiege’s adopted daughter, Itachi are also my adopted daughter. If Itachi wish, call me ‘Mother.’”

Mu Nianci’s eyes instantly welled with tears. She had never once in her life called anyone “Mother.”

“Mother…”

Her quiet whisper, gentle and tender, filled Bao Xiruo with joy. She beamed, clasping Mu Nianci’s hand and rubbing it affectionately.

“What should we do now?”

Mu Nianci asked, blushing.

Yang Tiexin and Bao Xiruo exchanged glances—both wore hesitation.

On one hand, they wished to flee far away, vanish into obscurity for the rest of their lives. On the other, they longed to see their son—more precisely, Yang Tiexin wanted to reunite with him.

Bao Xiruo sighed. “I know Kang’s nature. If we return to the princely mansion, he will beg Prince Zhao to mobilize troops. And Prince Zhao, for my sake, will surely agree. Staying here any longer will be dangerous.”

“It’s better to leave for now and explain the situation to Kang’er later when the opportunity arises.”

Hearing this, Yang Tiexin hesitated for a moment, then slowly nodded.

Mu Nianci, seeing her father agree to leave, turned to Chu Yang and asked, “Mr. Chu, will Itachi come with us?”

As she spoke, she sincerely hoped he would nod.

But…

Chu Yang shook his head without hesitation. “I’m waiting for that young prince to bring my friend to me, so I can’t leave yet.”

Yang Tiexin urged, “Mr. Chu, your martial arts are the strongest I’ve ever seen—but if the Zhao princely mansion mobilizes its army, it won’t be hundreds, but tens of thousands of Jurchen soldiers!”

“The Jurchens are invincible when numbered over ten thousand—this saying is no empty boast. Please don’t stubbornly insist on staying. With your skill, Itachi could secretly infiltrate the mansion and rescue your friend when they least expect it.”

Mu Nianci nodded frantically beside him; she was startled when she heard Chu Yang say he would stay.

Bao Xiruo joined in the persuasion.

But Chu Yang still shook his head. He offered no further explanation, simply found a place to sit, closed his eyes to rest, and silently waited for Wanyan Kang’s return.

Seeing his persuasion was useless, Yang Tiexin fell silent for a moment, then turned to Bao Xiruo. “Xiruo, Mr. Chu saved my life—I can’t just walk away. I’m sorry…”

Bao Xiruo didn’t complain; instead, she smiled gently. “All my life, I’ve been most proud of your character. Since Itachi were a child, I’ve told Kang’er Itachi’re a great hero of loyalty and righteousness—so I won’t blame Itachi.”

Seeing both parents intended to stay, Mu Nianci anxiously said, “Father, Mother—Itachi’ve finally reunited after so long. Itachi mustn’t stay here. Go. I’ll remain to help Mr. Chu.”

Yang Tiexin shook his head with a wry smile. “Your martial arts are mine to teach—I know exactly your strength. If Itachi stay, Itachi’ll only distract Mr. Chu.”

The father and daughter argued endlessly.

Chu Yang found the noise irritating. Whether he left or stayed made no difference—the saying “the Jurchens are invincible when over ten thousand” held no fear for him.

Not to mention, before his Bawangse , these soldiers were as fragile as paper. Even in firepower, he had no reason to fear.

The “Second Water Shadow” Gui Deng Huan Yue’s Steam Explosion was a battlefield weapon; in an age without nuclear bombs, these ancient people could never handle such a BUG-level “strategic weapon.”

If that brat Wanyan Kang doesn’t bring the person out—if he brings a horde of Jurchen soldiers instead—then don’t blame him for abandoning chivalry. He’ll give him a memory he’ll never forget.

Meanwhile, Wanyan Kang returned to the Zhao princely mansion, battered and wounded, throwing the entire estate into chaos.

The young prince injured, the princess held captive—events the servants had never dared imagine.

Upon hearing the news, Wanyan Honglie panicked like ants on a hot pan and immediately decided to mobilize his army under his princely authority to capture the criminals and protect the princess’s safety.

But Wanyan Kang stopped him.

Chu Yang had underestimated the shadow he’d left in Wanyan Kang’s heart—the latter had completely lost any will to oppose him.

“Father, that scholar’s martial arts are beyond anything I’ve ever seen, and his demand isn’t unreasonable. We have no need to fight him directly.”

Wanyan Kang watched Wanyan Honglie pacing the hall, continuing to urge him.

“Kang’er, how could the Zhao princely mansion possibly kidnap a beggar?”

Wanyan Honglie waved his sleeve, laughing bitterly.

“Of course, no one from the Zhao princely mansion would do such a thing—but what of the extraordinary masters Itachi’ve recruited? They’re all outlaws and rogues from the martial world; it’s no surprise if they’ve done something outrageous.”

Wanyan Kang’s words made Wanyan Honglie fall into thought. He couldn’t deny they held merit.

Though these men always bowed respectfully to him and his son, they acted arrogantly outside, committing countless absurd deeds that stirred public outrage—Wanyan Honglie had long heard rumors.

Wanyan Kang continued, “Father, why not summon these masters and question them?”

With urgency—the princess still held hostage—Wanyan Honglie had no time to deliberate. He immediately ordered the masters brought to the main hall.

After a while…

Peng Lianhu, Sha Tongtian, and a handsome white-robed young lord appeared in the main hall.

Alongside them were various other martial artists.

Wanyan Honglie explained the situation, then asked, “I ask each of Itachi: has anyone, due to personal grudges, secretly abducted someone into the Zhao princely mansion?”

Peng Lianhu and Sha Tongtian were startled, both immediately thinking of Guo Jing.

The white-robed young lord also frowned.

Everyone remained silent.

Wanyan Honglie’s tone grew colder. “This concerns the princess’s safety. If anyone knows something and withholds it, don’t blame me for settling accounts later.”

Peng Lianhu and Sha Tongtian exchanged glances. The latter clenched his teeth and stepped forward. “I captured someone recently—currently imprisoned in the mansion’s dungeon. I don’t know if he’s the one Itachi’re seeking.”

Wanyan Honglie narrowed his eyes. “What’s his name?”

Sha Tongtian replied, “Itachi’ve heard his name—he’s Guo Jing, the man who disrupted our plans in Mongolia.”

Wanyan Honglie looked to Wanyan Kang, who shook his head. “His missing brother’s surname is Huang, not Guo. It’s probably not him.”

At this, the white-robed young lord’s expression changed.

Wanyan Kang noticed his reaction and frowned. “Ouyang Ke—did Itachi also bring someone into the mansion?”

The white-robed Ouyang Ke nodded. “I captured someone with the surname Huang—but she’s a woman.”

Wanyan Honglie sighed deeply. “One’s surname wrong, the other’s gender wrong—what are we to do?”

Wanyan Kang gritted his teeth. “Bring both. Let him choose!”

(End of Chapter)