At the Heavenly Water Manor in Yunmeng Prefecture.
Young Master Liu Duohan stood respectfully behind an elderly man, cautiously asking, “Elder, the person… they will be here shortly.”
The elder did not respond. Liu Duohan dared not speak further. Although he was no longer young—having served as the Young Master for twenty-six years and now over forty—he knew that as long as this elder did not relinquish his position, he would forever remain the “Young” Master. In Heavenly Water Manor, the only one qualified to make decisions was this old man.
Liu Ruyuan, Master of the Heavenly Water Manor, renowned for his White Cloud Fist and the Sword Intent of Washing Flowers.
“Do it,” Liu Ruyuan said in a deep voice, as if making a monumental decision.
Liu Duohan raised his head, a glint of ruthlessness flashing in his eyes. He nodded, leaped over the rear wall, and headed away from the manor. Liu Ruyuan sighed softly, settling himself on a stone bench in the rear courtyard. He pulled a bronze pipe from his robes and unhurriedly lit his tobacco.
A pipe’s worth of time passed quickly. Liu Ruyuan slightly lifted his eyelids as Liu Duohan fell from the sky, landing heavily before him. After a few feeble movements, he lay still—whether dead or unconscious was unclear.
“He’s not dead,” said the man in the wide-brimmed hat as he landed before Liu Ruyuan. “I even preserved his martial arts for your sake—the Heavenly Water Manor must continue to oversee Yunmeng Prefecture on behalf of Shanglin Heavenly Palace, and it cannot do so without a Master. But the others… who failed to show proper respect. I’ve killed them all.”
Liu Ruyuan’s expression remained composed as he tapped his pipe gently against the stone table. “Thank you, Tower Master Bai, for showing mercy.”
“Heavenly Water Manor daring to challenge me—it’s brave,” Bai Jile said coldly, “but also foolish.”
Liu Ruyuan set down his pipe. “I received word that Tower Master Bai encountered a mysterious master by the shores of Bihui Lake. You fought for many days, both sustaining serious injuries. I, Liu Ruyuan, have gambled all my life. I’ve won every wager over the past sixty-plus years, which is how I’ve gotten this far. I wanted to place one last bet before I died. But now, it seems I made the wrong choice.”
“This time, you wagered too much,” Bai Jile extended a finger toward Liu Ruyuan. “According to my rules, losing comes with a price.”
“Tower Master Bai, regarding the item you want,” Liu Ruyuan sighed, “I’ve thought about it for a long time, yet I still can’t bring myself to give it to you. I simply can’t let it go. In my life, there have been very few things I couldn’t part with, but when I opened that book, I felt it was more precious than the entirety of Heavenly Water Manor. I even tried to transcribe it, but it seemed cursed—every time I attempted, the characters and diagrams on the pages seemed to spin and shift, making it impossible to copy onto another sheet.”
“I’ve spared your son’s martial arts—Heavenly Water Manor will retain its place in Yunmeng Prefecture. However, by my rules, mistakes must be paid for.” Bai Jile extended his finger toward the center of Liu Ruyuan’s brow. “Manor Master Liu, forgive my discourtesy.”
Liu Ruyuan’s sleeve fluttered as he leaped forward, aiming a punch at Bai Jile’s head.
The White Cloud Fist, the Sword Intent of Flower Washing. Years ago, Liu Ruyuan had abandoned the sword for the fist, incorporating his sword intent into his fist technique “Amidst White Clouds.” This transformed what had been a dead end in his martial path into a new road, earning him the title of a fist martial arts grandmaster. And now, this punch that Liu Ruyuan threw at Bai Jile was, he believed, the strongest of his entire life.
Sand and gravel whirled violently within a three-zhang radius around Bai Jile, yet he remained indifferent, casually extending a single finger. That finger met Liu Ruyuan’s fist.
In an instant, everything returned to calm.
Liu Ruyuan’s expression darkened, then flushed red, and finally turned deathly pale. Bai Jile flicked his hand gently, and Liu Ruyuan’s body was sent flying backward, landing heavily on the ground.
“How… how is this possible!” Liu Ruyuan coughed up a mouthful of blood. He had believed his punch, even if not enough to kill Bai Jile outright, could at least severely wound him, given that Bai was already injured. Yet, it was effortlessly neutralized with a single finger. He tried to summon his inner energy to stand again, but his true qi had been entirely scattered by that one strike. At this moment, fighting was out of the question—he couldn’t even manage to get back on his feet.
“Had you used your Amidst Whide Clouds technique just now, given my current injuries, you might have stood a chance. But you chose to use that technique instead—too presumptuous. You believed that after all these years of study, you could master this fist technique without practicing its foundational principles.” Bai Jile withdrew his finger, his tone remaining cold and calm. “In reality, you’ve only grasped its empty form.”
Liu Ruyuan smiled bitterly. “Is that so?”
“Shanglin Heavenly Palace can no longer fully control the martial world,” Bai Jile reached out his hand toward Liu Ruyuan, opening his palm. “But challenging Shanglin Heavenly Palace remains far beyond your means. Give it to me.”
Liu Ruyuan pulled a tattered scroll from his robes. “About the Heavenly Dawn Cloud Realm…”
“You’ve already paid the price for your attempt to assassinate me. As for the matter of Heavenly Dawn Cloud Realm, with you handing over this scroll, our arrangement stands.” Bai Jile turned away. “Farewell.”
Once Bai Jile had gone, Liu Ruyuan struggled to his feet and collapsed onto the stone bench, coughing heavily. Nearly half an hour passed before Liu Duohan stirred and slowly regained consciousness. Supporting himself on the ground, he barely managed to stand. Looking up at his father, he was struck by a realization—his father looked old.
It seemed as if, in just a moment, the formidable martial grandmaster who had once commanded awe across Heavenly Water Manor now sat on a stone bench, his back slightly hunched, appearing no different from an ordinary elderly man in his sixties.
“Father,” Liu Duohan called softly.
“From today, the position of Manor Master of Heavenly Water Manor is yours,” Liu Ruyuan rose to his feet and slowly walked away.
In the Heavenly Dawn Cloud Realm, Su Baiyi was wrapping bandages around the wounds on his arms. The saber, with a blade as thin as a cicada’s wing, was so incredibly fine that he had cut himself several times without even noticing. Yet he seemed thoroughly excited. “Sect Master Feng, this saber technique is absolutely fascinating!”
Feng Yuhang crouched beside him, picking up the saber from the ground. “Oh? How so?”
“It feels… free,” Su Baiyi said after a moment of thought.
“You have good insight,” Feng Yuhang raised an eyebrow.
“Come on, Master Feng, let’s spar again!” Su Baiyi stood up, imitating Feng Zuojun’s stance he’d seen in the training hall, and rested the blade on his shoulder in what should have been an imposing pose. Instead, he immediately began howling, “Ow ow ow ow! Cut myself again!”