Chapter Sixty-Five: On the Eve of Parting

Zeng Sanyuan hurriedly called for several people to carry away the disciple’s corpse.

This time, too, he had kicked a steel plate—never had he thought the lowly disciple would have such a background.

Wiping the cold sweat from his brow with trembling hands, he bowed repeatedly toward Bufeng. “No, Sect Master, surely you jest. Your grand-disciple is as magnificent as a dragon or phoenix, and we were all at fault before. How could we expect the young brother to apologize? Wouldn’t that be too much for us?”

“Oh? So, you’re saying my grand-disciple and you gentlemen have no more misunderstandings?”

“None, none at all.”

“In that case, do you still wish to beat my disciple to death and then apologize?”

“No, no, we wouldn’t dare…” Everyone shook their heads frantically, not daring even to breathe too loudly, fearing the living King of Hell would start killing and they’d be next. After all, life is precious to everyone.

Bufeng stroked his beard and nodded, turning to Mu Yan. “Enough. It seems our immortal friends here have forgiven your poor hospitality. Consider this a lesson learned. Go, apply some medicine and get some rest.”

“Yes, Grandmaster.”

With Bufeng’s words, Mu Yan was able to extract his foot and dashed off as if something venomous was chasing him.

Those who were unaware would have thought he was fleeing a pack of wild beasts.

Xing Yanzong and Qiushui Wuhen, unable to contain their amusement, exchanged glances and left the Hall of Wind and Thunder together.

Qiushui Wuhen swept his gaze over the hall and addressed Bufeng, “The winds on Mount Tianfeng are strong, and it’s not surprising that some unaware little fish would drift in. Brother Bu, for the sake of us both, why not let this matter rest here?” Glancing at the sky, he added, “It’s well past the auspicious hour. Why haven’t we seen your son yet? Has he been lost in the mountains and forgotten to return?”

He was offering Bufeng a way out—after all, for someone of Bufeng’s status to pressure a few insignificant sects was unsightly, regardless of reason. Though their deaths might be justified, the world favors the weak and rarely cares for the truth. The status of the Sect of No Birth meant they needn’t fear others’ opinions, but there was no need to create trouble for such people.

Bufeng was no fool; he understood Qiushui Wuhen’s intention exactly. Standing up for his grand-disciple could be called protective, but it was ultimately a show of force.

Such matters are easy to start but hard to end.

Qiushui Wuhen’s gesture was perfectly timed, and Bufeng gratefully accepted the way out.

“To tell you the truth…”

“Master, I’ve brought little junior brother back.”

At the sound of the voice, everyone turned to see Ming Yi, Su He, and the others returning. The little one clung limply in Ming Yi’s arms, still listless but much better than before.

There was, however, an unexpected guest—Blood Marquis.

With a timid cry of “Father,” Wu Lei melted Bufeng’s heart. If he did not weep openly, his hands still trembled as he caressed his son’s face. Only after feeling the coolness of that little cheek did his anxious heart finally settle. All that mattered was the child’s safe return.

Qiushui Wuhen and Xing Yanzong both brightened at the sight of Wu Lei—a truly handsome child, and although he had yet to formally train, his foundation was rare among his peers. As a potential heir, he was excellent material.

But when their gazes fell upon Su He, a subtle change flickered in their eyes, and the atmosphere shifted. The two understood each other without a word, while the others grew wary, recalling past events and fearing Bufeng’s wrath.

Unable to find fault elsewhere, they turned their frustrations on Blood Marquis.

Blood Marquis, though imprisoned on Forbidden Mountain for eight hundred years, had once been a true scourge, challenging all comers and earning a fearsome reputation—one not at all pleasant, but for the likes of Zeng Sanyuan, this was helpful. They pushed forward a reckless man to point at Blood Marquis and shout, “The Sect of No Birth is supposed to be a righteous school—how can you consort with fiends like this?”

“Who are you calling a fiend? When I was roaming the world, you were still playing in the mud somewhere. Always talking about righteousness and evil—who do you think you are?” Blood Marquis, seeing the attention shift to him, rolled up his sleeves and shot back.

“You… you murderer! How many lives have you taken with those hands?”

“What a joke! Who here dares claim their hands are clean? Except for the children, which of you hasn’t shed blood? You act sanctimonious, but you’re no different from the rest.”

“Blood Marquis, you go too far! Brothers, attack!” With these words, led by Zeng Sanyuan, weapons flashed all around.

In an instant, the atmosphere grew tense, as if a sword had been drawn.

Blood Marquis sneered, chain-sickle in hand—he hadn’t tasted blood in centuries; a little exercise would do.

“Stop!” Bufeng shouted, his voice charged with power, and turned to Blood Marquis. He asked Ming Yi to explain.

Ming Yi gently set Wu Lei down and whispered a summary of what happened on Forbidden Mountain.

Bufeng finally understood—so this was the fate Lord Qi Shengjun had spoken of. Wu Lei’s fortune had been marked by this encounter; with Blood Marquis’s help, the future would indeed be smoother.

Taking Wu Lei by the hand, Bufeng led him before Qiushui Wuhen and Xing Yanzong. “This is Master Xing Yanzong of the Soul Command Sect, and beside him, Master Qiushui Wuhen of Spring and Autumn Letters. Quickly, greet the two masters.”

Wu Lei bowed obediently.

The two sect masters grew even fonder—such a fine child, but alas, not fated to be theirs. Bufeng was already among the few true elites; his child had no need to seek another master.

Xing Yanzong presented a congratulatory gift to a disciple of the Sect of No Birth, and Qiushui Wuhen called for Zi Wuyi and Shi Duanchang to offer their gifts as well.

Though the auspicious hour had passed, with Bufeng’s public acknowledgement, the matter was set in stone.

Poisonous Thousand Hands and Old Man Fishing by the Brook glanced at Su He with venomous eyes, but they knew this was no place for violence. They composed themselves, congratulated Bufeng, and presented their gifts.

Bufeng pushed Wu Lei forward. “My son is unworthy but deeply honored by your kindness. The Sect of No Birth has prepared a modest feast; I hope you will not refuse.”

Thus, with a few deft moves, Bufeng smoothed over all hostilities.

Everyone entered the hall where food and wine awaited.

Su He escorted Yi Qingchen, who was injured, back to the Two Insects Courtyard. Bufeng nodded his approval—he had achieved his purpose. All that mattered was to make clear that Bai Li Su He was a friend of the Sect of No Birth. Anyone who wished him harm would have to answer to them.

Seeing Wu Lei still lacking in vigor, Bufeng asked Ming Yi to take him and Blood Marquis back to the Two Insects Courtyard.

The feast passed in harmony, host and guest alike delighted. Even those like Zeng Sanyuan, who remained outside the hall, were not neglected; good wine and dishes were provided, regardless of earlier conflicts.

As night fell, the guests were finally sent off.

Bufeng wished to have Xing Yanzong and Qiushui Wuhen stay the night, but both claimed urgent matters at their own sects and declined.

Seeing this, Poisonous Thousand Hands and Old Man Fishing by the Brook also took their leave.

Once all these affairs were settled, Bufeng finally returned to the Two Insects Courtyard.

As soon as he arrived, he sensed something amiss in the atmosphere, all originating from Lord Qi Shengjun. “Old scoundrel, what are you doing?”

Qi Shengjun’s eyes bulged, but after a glance at Bufeng, he turned away in silence.

Bufeng surveyed the room and soon understood. He dismissed Su He, Huai Yin, and the others, then poured a cup of water for Qi Shengjun. “Come now, you’re too old to be quarreling with the young ones. Besides, everyone is back safe and sound.”

“Safe and sound? That brat should have been the one to take the hit.” Mentioning it only reignited Qi Shengjun’s anger.

“That’s unreasonable,” Bufeng replied. “You know as well as I do how capable Blood Marquis is. Wasn’t it you who told me not to worry, that the brat would handle it? Why blame me now?”

“That’s different! Xiao Chen’er is a girl—what if she’s scarred for life? She has to marry someday.”

Bufeng wanted to roll his eyes, though it hardly mattered whether he did. “My son is still a child, and you say nothing?”

Qi Shengjun was left speechless.

“Enough. In cultivation, who escapes unscathed? Her wound isn’t serious—the poison is the problem. Once Blood Marquis removes it, she’ll be fine.”

At this, Qi Shengjun’s confusion grew. “That scoundrel was your equal in the past—how did he end up yielding to the child?”

You never managed to subdue him, and now he submits to your son—how odd.

Bufeng sat down, pouring himself a cup of water. “It’s a long story… I suppose it’s still because of him.”

“You mean the Third Prince?”

“Yes…” Bufeng fell silent, for some things defied judgment of right and wrong. Seeing how much he’d done for Wu Lei, even as a birth father he felt ashamed. He didn’t expect the boy to forget, but if Wu Lei could be half as close to him as to that man, it would be enough.

“Has Que Yunzi returned yet?” Bufeng asked.

“He has. If not, would I be sitting here? Someone has to tend to Xiao Chen’er’s wounds—he’s the professional, not me.”

Bufeng considered this and stood. “Good, as long as he’s back. Want to come with me to check on them?”

“You go. I’ll stay.”

“Very well, I’ll go.”

Bufeng left for the side rooms.

As fate would have it, aside from Huai Yin, who stayed to tend to Sui Yu Ren, everyone else was gathered in Bai Lu Tongzi’s room. As Que Yunzi put it, having everyone together saved him the trouble of running back and forth.

After a few days of care, Bai Lu Tongzi had improved greatly. With a few more days, he’d be as good as new. His injuries were internal, hence slower to heal.

Wu Lei was merely exhausted and would recover with rest. Only Yi Qingchen’s wound was problematic. Though Su He had given her a pill, the poison was Blood Marquis’s own concoction and only he could remove it.

At first, Blood Marquis refused, still brooding over the two fangs Yi Qingchen had taken and not returned.

But Yi Qingchen, unable to gather her energy, could not return them, and he would not help until she did. Thus, they were at an impasse.

Que Yunzi said, “If you cure her, she can return your fangs, can’t she?”

“No, return them first.”

“Cure her first.”

“Return them first.”

Back and forth they argued, growing red-faced.

“I’ll give you two choices,” Bufeng said, stepping into the room. “First, cure her. Second, I’ll send you back to your prison.” He didn’t bother looking—he knew exactly where Blood Marquis was.

“You…”

“What? If you wish to follow Wu Lei, you must abide by the rules of the Sect of No Birth. Otherwise, I’ll have no reason to keep you. The gate is right there—leave if you wish.”

“…Fine, I’ll cure her.” Blood Marquis, swallowing his anger, relented.

He reached out, drawing the poison from Yi Qingchen’s body into his palm, then dispersed it.

Freed from the poison, Yi Qingchen felt her energy return. She flipped her palm and handed over the two fangs.

Bufeng glanced at Blood Marquis. “Come with me.”

Blood Marquis hesitated, then followed.

Once in the shadows, he asked, “What do you want?”

“Nothing but a word: loyalty.” Bufeng turned to him. “Protect him. I’ll forget the past. Fail, and I’ll kill you.”

After a long moment, as the night breeze stirred, Blood Marquis finally exhaled a single syllable.

“Ha…”