Chapter Sixty-Six: Battle with Yang Yuanzhen (Please Vote for Recommendations)

“Ah!”

His right hand was severed at the wrist by the force of the blade, blood spraying violently from the wound. Xu Wenwu’s face contorted in agony as he lashed out with his left palm, striking Yang Ze squarely in the chest.

Yang Ze had poured all his strength into that slash. With no chance to dodge, he was hit directly by Xu Wenwu’s desperate palm.

The force crashed into his body, his meridians shuddered, and his internal organs suffered grave injuries. A mouthful of blood spurted from his lips.

Staggering back several steps, Yang Ze’s eyes still blazed with murderous intent. Gritting his teeth and ignoring the pain, he raised his blade and swung it once more.

As his hand was severed, Xu Wenwu was driven to madness. The agony was excruciating, and with blood pouring from him, his strength ebbed rapidly. The shock even aggravated his old wounds, causing him to spit blood repeatedly.

He hastily sealed several acupoints on his arm to stem the bleeding, but before he could recover, Yang Ze’s blade was upon him again.

This time, Xu Wenwu could no longer defend himself. The blade struck him with finality.

Blade energy burst from the steel, piercing through Xu Wenwu’s chest and ending all hope of life. Xu Wenwu fell.

Yang Ze staggered, barely managing to steady himself with his sword, refusing to collapse.

Killing the man in black was nothing, but slaying Xu Wenwu had been fraught with peril at every step. If not for Xu Wenwu’s ignorance of his mastery of blade energy, Yang Ze might never have prevailed.

Weakly, Yang Ze remained standing, forcing himself to recover. He was utterly spent, his wounds severe. He dared not move recklessly—Yuyang City was in chaos, and to venture out now would surely draw unwelcome attention and endanger his life.

After about a quarter of an hour, Yang Ze finally approached Xu Wenwu’s corpse.

All the blood had drained from Xu Wenwu, leaving his face deathly pale and the ground soaked crimson. In the dim night, the scene was ghastly beneath the faint glow of lanterns.

Yang Ze searched the body but found little of value—perhaps only a dozen taels of silver.

Seeing such paltry spoils, Yang Ze cursed inwardly. For a clan patriarch to carry so little was truly disgraceful.

But before he could finish his grumbling, footsteps sounded again in the woods.

Already on guard, Yang Ze gripped his blade tightly. Ever since Xu Wenwu’s arrival, he had been wary of others showing up.

And indeed, someone else was coming. Now, drained and wounded, Yang Ze’s heart filled with dread—if the newcomer proved an enemy, he might not be able to defend himself.

The footsteps drew nearer, Yang Ze’s nerves stretched taut. He glanced left, towards the source of the sound.

Soon, someone emerged from the darkness. When Yang Ze saw who it was, his wary gaze turned to astonishment.

“It’s you!”

***

Seeing the newcomer, Yang Ze cried out in shock—it was none other than his father, Yang Yuanzhen.

He had not expected that after Xu Wenwu, Yang Yuanzhen would appear. Yet even recognizing his father, Yang Ze did not relax, remaining alert and wary.

Most of Yang Ze’s feelings towards Yang Yuanzhen were rooted in the tangled karma between their former selves. There was little true paternal affection; all he’d ever felt was favoritism. Knowing how biased Yang Yuanzhen could be, Yang Ze could not trust what might happen under the cover of night.

Upon arriving, Yang Yuanzhen immediately saw Yang Ze standing stone-faced with his long blade, then glanced at the corpses of both the black-clad man and Xu Wenwu.

He showed no reaction at the sight of the man in black, but at Xu Wenwu’s corpse, a subtle change flickered across his face.

“It seems you’ve hidden your abilities well. Even Xu Wenwu was no match for you. Are you truly only at the advanced stage of Qi-Gathering?” Yang Yuanzhen did not step forward, simply posing his question.

“If I say I’m truly just at the advanced Qi-Gathering stage, will you believe me, Father?” Yang Ze replied.

“Why wouldn’t I believe you? Regardless of your cultivation, I know you possess killing techniques. Without them, you couldn’t have slain Fan Yongnian, Feng Lixuan, and now Xu Wenwu. Xu Wenwu thought himself nearly at the Postnatal stage, certain he could take you easily. His arrogance cost him his life—how laughable.”

Yang Yuanzhen gazed at Xu Wenwu’s body with a hint of lament; they had been rivals for years, and now Xu Wenwu was dead.

But Yang Ze felt no such sentiment. Instead, he was surprised at how closely Yang Yuanzhen’s deductions matched the truth.

“Don’t be surprised. You’ve done well, but I am no fool. If I wanted to investigate, you couldn’t hide it from me. As for why I’m here—like Xu Wenwu, I’ve also broken through to the half-step Postnatal stage.

You have your secrets; they are yours alone. I will not interfere or pry. Though you are my son, you deserve your freedom.” Yang Yuanzhen’s words were unexpected.

Yang Ze was surprised. “Why are you saying this now?”

Yang Yuanzhen looked at him deeply, paused, and then said, “No special reason. I just want you to understand: you are my son, we are family. There’s no need for such estrangement. Come, let’s go home.”

But Yang Ze did not move, still watching Yang Yuanzhen, his grip on the blade unrelenting.

“So, you still don’t trust me? Very well, let me show you something. Then you’ll have no reason to worry.” With that, Yang Yuanzhen sprang forward.

Yang Ze’s eyes widened. Yang Yuanzhen’s speed was incredible, rapidly closing the distance. Without hesitation, Yang Ze slashed forth with the ferocity of a tiger descending the mountain.

His blade swept out, but Yang Yuanzhen remained calm, extending a finger to intercept the arc of the strike, tapping precisely on the blade.

Just as Yang Ze gathered strength for his attack, Yang Yuanzhen’s finger shattered the momentum, sending a force along the blade and into Yang Ze’s hand.

With a breath of true energy, Yang Ze evaded the invading force and prepared to press the attack once more.

***

But as he moved, Yang Yuanzhen struck again, even faster, shattering Yang Ze’s offense.

Seeing this, Yang Ze shifted his stance, switching to the Swallow’s Thunderblade technique.

Blade light flickered, but Yang Yuanzhen, still unflustered, countered with a few palms, dissolving the as-yet-crude Swallow’s Thunderblade and nearly seizing Yang Ze in the process.

Relying on the maneuverability of the Swallow’s Thunderblade, Yang Ze found an opening and lashed out with a finger—Ninefold Spiral Finger!

At this, Yang Yuanzhen’s eyes changed for the first time, a flash of surprise in his gaze.

He, too, responded with a finger. Their strikes met, and Yang Ze’s expression shifted; he felt a surge of force from Yang Yuanzhen, sending him staggering backward, unable to stop.

He retreated three or four steps before Yang Yuanzhen stepped forward, seized his shoulder, and unleashed a surge of energy into him.

Yang Ze’s shoulder went numb; he lost all strength, and his blade slipped from his hand. Only then did Yang Yuanzhen release him.

“Well? Do you trust me now?” Yang Yuanzhen stepped aside, speaking indifferently.

Yang Ze lowered his head. “Father’s strength is beyond anything I can resist.”

“If I truly wanted to harm you, you’d be no match. Even wounded as I am, subduing you would be no challenge. You needn’t worry about me turning on you.”

Yang Ze understood. His vigilance had always stemmed from fear that Yang Yuanzhen would attack him, but now it seemed his father harbored no ill intent.

“Enough. Will you return to the Yang household with me, or back to the North District?” Yang Yuanzhen asked, resigned.

“No need. The clan does not welcome me; I won’t return to trouble you all.”

“Very well, I’ll see you back to North City. You know how chaotic things are right now. In your condition, without my protection, you might not make it safely home. Let’s go.”

Yang Yuanzhen said no more, leading the way. Yang Ze followed, step by step.

The road from East City back to North City was long. By the time Yang Ze returned to Xiangyun Street, dawn was breaking. Yang Yuanzhen did not linger, soon turning back the way he’d come.

Back at the Tongyang Money Exchange, a servant reported that Old Xie was looking for him.

Old Xie was gravely wounded, still bedridden. Hearing that Old Xie sought him, Yang Ze hurried over immediately.

When Old Xie, lying there, saw Yang Ze, he grew emotional, clutching Yang Ze’s hand at the bedside and exclaiming, “Second Young Master, you’re finally here! I thought I’d never see you again!”