Chapter Twenty-Seven

The sun hung low over the mountain peaks at dusk during the Shen period. The early spring sun was lazy, while the moon, in contrast, had already dutifully appeared in the horizon. One side of the mountain was bathed in a golden-red glow. Farmers, having finished their day’s work, led their oxen home, and thick smoke from firewood drifted from the village houses as rural wives awaited the return of their husbands and children for supper. "Supper"—what a blissful word. The evening meal was often a wife’s best reward for her husband’s exhausting day. Indeed, Heaven had finally taken pity on these suffering souls at the bottom of society; this year would be a bountiful harvest.

The four of them, all possessing the Nine Heavens of Desire Sound, reached the Fushou Mountain Stronghold before nightfall. Despite their immense physical exhaustion, they chose not to rest. Time was the final chip in the gamble between Tao Zhiming and the Grim Reaper. Without Mu Xiangming’s internal energy to sustain him, no one knew how much longer Tao Zhiming could hold on.

Their arrival immediately drew a crowd of bandits. Mu Xiangming had spent a month here, but she had remained confined to a room, channeling energy to heal her teacher, and knew nothing of the stronghold’s layout.

Surrounded by bandits brandishing weapons, the four were confronted by a high-ranking bandit who barked, "Who are you people? Daring to trespass on Fushou Mountain! Do you have a death wish?"

Deng Yangfeng replied respectfully, "Friends of the martial arts world, I am an old man seeking an urgent audience with your stronghold leader."

Seeing the old man’s submissive tone and assuming they lacked influence, the bandit’s gaze fell upon the ethereal beauty beside him, and wicked thoughts took root. He immediately ordered, "Seize them! Drag them to the leader!"

Just as the bandits moved to strike, a shout rang out from the air, belonging to San Qingfeng: "You dare to lay a hand on Senior Deng? Are you all tired of living?"

The bandits froze in terror, looking up to see San Qingfeng descending from above. Confusion rippled through the ranks:
"The Young Master is here!"
"That old man is Deng Yangfeng!"
"Impossible, he didn't sound like him just now!"
"Have you ever seen him?"
"How could I possibly have seen him!"

Amidst the murmurs, San Qingfeng landed in front of the four. Looking at his agitated subordinates, he sneered, "What? You don't believe me? Shall I let Senior Deng strike you once to find out?"

"We dare not... we dare not..." the bandits stammered, bowing in deference. Seeing them cowed, San Qingfeng masked his true intentions with a false smile, turning to the four: "I didn't know Senior Deng was coming. What business do you have with my father?"

Deng Yangfeng snorted, "Enough. That old fool has obtained the cultivation manual; why would he still be here? Take us to Tao Zhiming immediately!"

San Qingfeng blinked, thinking for a moment before grinning, "My father is indeed not at home, it’s just that... I don't know... when he might be seen..." Having gotten his answer, he began to hint at his own greed.

Deng Yangfeng spoke sternly, "Enough! Don't waste my time with useless talk. If you delay me, I will raze this place to the ground tonight!" He no longer cared for pleasantries; detoxifying Zhiming could not wait another moment.

The threat sent a cold sweat through the crowd. Everyone knew that Tao Zhiming and Deng Yangfeng were soulmates. With San Qiudao currently away, if something went wrong, no one could stop him from destroying the stronghold.

The arrogant San Qingfeng felt a surge of fear, but he maintained a facade of composure, laughing, "Why get so angry? Come, Senior Deng, follow me!"

The bandits dispersed as San Qingfeng led them toward Tao Zhiming’s room. Along the way, Deng Yangfeng’s expression was heavy with worry as he recalled the carefree days they once shared:

After the debate at White Cloud Peak, Deng Yangfeng had broken through the final bottleneck of the Nine Heavens of Desire Sound. The "Martial World Contention" became history, and the two began traveling, climbing mountains and seeking immortals. Tao Zhiming would compose poems, and Deng Yangfeng would discuss martial arts. Their lives were wild and unrestrained. Deng Yangfeng once described their days together:

*Dust rises for ten thousand miles at Mount Fo,
Cloud peaks drift through this mortal realm.
In a city full of smoke, wine, and meat, one can hardly find sorrow,
Across the east, it is hard to find a sky where one can hang one's heart.
Rare is a life without worry in this world,
Rare is a life where one travels ten thousand miles.
With earthen pots, smoke, wine, and meat,
How can there be sorrow in this world?*

It was these travels that brought them face-to-face with the suffering of the peasantry, leading Tao Zhiming to his ambition of "saving the people through literature." Their paths diverged because their philosophies eventually clashed, forcing them apart.

They opened the door.

Tao Zhiming lay peacefully on the bed, showing no signs of life. His face was deathly pale, his lips purple, and all his hair had fallen out. His face was so gaunt that the bone structure was clearly visible.

Wei Xiaoyu covered her mouth in shock. Lin He felt as if a thousand blades had pierced his heart; it was because of him that his teacher had been reduced to this state. Deng Yangfeng immediately rolled up his sleeves and approached the bed, the others following.

Deng Yangfeng’s face was etched with profound anguish. After a brief inspection, he turned to Wei Xiaoyu, "Xiao'er, fetch a stool." Then, to Lin He, "Give me that medicine."

Lin He, who had been clutching the medicine, handed it over. Deng Yangfeng took the pill and turned to Mu Xiangming, "Go and fetch a bowl of hot water. You are familiar with this place." Mu Xiangming nodded, and Wei Xiaoyu brought the stool.

Lin He stopped Mu Xiangming. The night had completely fallen, and he was worried about her going out alone, so he said, "I will go with you..."

Mu Xiangming paused, then softly replied, "Alright..."

They left the room. Mu Xiangming walked in front, Lin He behind. The moon was as round as the night before, and the wind was biting. The cold breeze always blew from the left, and since Mu Xiangming was thinly dressed, Lin He, fearing she might push him away, simply walked quickly on her left side to shield her from the chill. Even so, they did not speak a word.

When the hot water was brought, Deng Yangfeng was sitting on the chair, taking Tao Zhiming’s pulse, his expression growing grimmer. Lin He handed the bowl to the senior. Deng Yangfeng took it and dropped the "Spirit Sun Dragon-Phoenix Pill" into the hot water. The pill lived up to its name, instantly dissolving into a bowl of potent medicinal soup.

Deng Yangfeng brought the bowl to the bedside, using a spoon to drip the medicine slowly into Tao Zhiming’s mouth. It was a heartbreaking scene; both were world-renowned figures, once soulmates, and men of high moral character, yet they were now mere playthings of fate.

The sound of the spoon clinking against the porcelain bowl echoed in the deathly silent room. Wei Xiaoyu recounted the story of the "Spirit Sun Dragon-Phoenix Pill":

The pill was commonly known as the "Half-Life Immortal Pill." Legend had it that a woman’s husband drowned. Consumed by longing, and having not yet conceived, she sought a witch on the eve of his burial and obtained the pill. She dug up her husband’s grave and fed it to him. To her surprise, he came back to life and they spent one last night together. He died again the next day, but the woman became pregnant. That was how the name "Half-Life Immortal Pill" came to be.

Half the soup was consumed when Deng Yangfeng handed the rest to Wei Xiaoyu; in his current state, Tao Zhiming could not handle the full potency at once.

As soon as they stopped, the medicine took effect. Tao Zhiming’s purple lips began to regain color, and a faint flush returned to his cheeks.

Deng Yangfeng rose and slowly helped Tao Zhiming into a sitting position. As Lin He reached out to support him, a folded piece of yellow paper slipped from Tao Zhiming’s clothes.

Deng Yangfeng’s expression shifted. He knew Tao Zhiming never kept paper or pens on his person. Sensing something significant, he picked up the yellowed paper.

Opening it, he saw clean, orderly handwriting. He realized it was not Tao Zhiming’s, but a hand he knew all too well.

After reading it, Deng Yangfeng tucked the paper into his clothes, removed his outer robe and boots, and sat cross-legged behind Tao Zhiming. Placing his palms against Tao Zhiming’s back, he said, "You are all tired from the day. I have arranged for rooms with San Qingfeng. Go and rest."

Lin He looked at Mu Xiangming. It was for the best; since leaving White Cloud Peak, she had hardly rested.

Wei Xiaoyu worriedly said, "Master, let me do it!" Since receiving word from Lin He, her master had not slept.

Deng Yangfeng smiled sternly, "Your cultivation in the Nine Heavens of Desire Sound is insufficient. Go and rest." Seeing Wei Xiaoyu try to protest, he cut her off, "Lin He, you stay. They will go and rest."

Realizing her master’s intent, she did not linger. She took the medicine bowl and left the room with Mu Xiangming.

The room grew even quieter.

"Senior Deng, what must I do?"

Deng Yangfeng let out a long sigh, "Sit down."

Lin He nodded slowly and sat on the stool.

Deng Yangfeng said, "I know you want to save your parents most of all."

Lin He nodded, "Yes. From the moment I chose to seek you out, that was my intent."

Deng Yangfeng, one hand supporting Tao Zhiming’s back, handed the yellow paper to Lin He. Lin He, slightly puzzled, opened the note. The familiar handwriting stunned him.

*To my teacher, Deng Yangfeng:*

*Your disciple is incompetent. I have achieved nothing and fallen to this state. Not only have I driven myself to this end, but I have also nearly implicated you. I always believed that selflessness was the ultimate state of life, but not until the birth of my son, Lin He, did I understand that a woman has an innate selfishness carved into her bones—the selfishness for her own child.*

*The selfishness I gave Lin He was built upon my own. I pinned my expectations on him, and my selfishness on him. This caused me great pain. It was only when I learned that Lin He’s teacher was Mr. Tao that I finally found peace. I write this letter to be given to Mr. Tao.*

*Mr. Tao is your soulmate and a man of great virtue. If that day truly comes, I fear I will have no face to see you again. But no matter how old Lin He grows, I entrust him to you. As a mother, I cannot burden him with my expectations. Whether he becomes great or not, I only hope for his peace and happiness. By entrusting him to you, I hope he can achieve something for the world, act for the sake of the people, and exert his strength for the nation!*

*Year 1108*

Year 1108—that was the year he was only eight! Lin He looked at the stark characters, each one tugging at his heart. He read it again and again, trying to grasp the meaning, but with every reading, his heart pounded harder.

Deng Yangfeng began to speak:

"I have never liked to keep things to myself. Twenty years ago, the Man Kingdom suffered the worst drought in a century. Emperor Zhong’s tyranny was insane and inhumane. The farmers lived in misery. Your mother was from a farming family; eight of them starved to death, leaving only her. When she was your age, I took her as my disciple. Though her talent was average, she had the heart of the common people carved into her bones—the most precious trait in the martial world of the Man Kingdom. Though the people did not remember her, and the kingdom did not remember her, she was my proudest disciple."

Deng Yangfeng paused, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. "Some time ago, I calculated the hexagram for Yu'er. At first, I thought the timing was wrong, but now I must accept it... Though she was a woman, she had a heart for the world. Once her Nine Heavens of Desire Sound reached a certain level, she began planning how to assassinate Emperor Zhong. At that time, her cultivation was only at the Noon stage. I strongly opposed such a reckless decision. You must know that Qu Yuansong is the Emperor’s personal imperial guard; even I, back in the day, could not have assassinated the Emperor before him. Alas... my mistake was being from the Lu Kingdom; I could not interfere in the politics of your Man Kingdom..."

Deng Yangfeng looked out the window, his wrinkled face drawn tight. It was a face that commanded awe, but now it looked weathered by the passage of time.

Learning that his parents were already dead was like a bolt of lightning, shattering all of Lin He’s defenses. He could no longer hold it in. His eyes bloodshot, tears gushed out. He let out a loud cry, releasing all his internal energy in an instant, causing the sword on his back to vibrate out. He grabbed the sword; he wanted only revenge.

Deng Yangfeng would not indulge his emotions. Just as Lin He prepared to channel his energy to burst through the door, Deng Yangfeng’s long hair whipped up, releasing incomparable internal energy. If Lin He’s energy was a surging river, Deng Yangfeng’s was a violent sea. In an instant, Lin He and the furniture were blasted against the wall.

The furniture was smashed to pieces, but Lin He, instead of calming down, became even more frenzied. Deng Yangfeng’s hands were busy maintaining Tao Zhiming’s meridians. If Lin He went mad again and interrupted the flow, Tao Zhiming would die on the spot. Lin He slashed his sword energy toward Deng Yangfeng. Deng Yangfeng deflected the strikes with one hand, but Lin He, seeing him as an enemy, unleashed the "Turning Back from the Bitter Sea" sword style.

Deng Yangfeng’s greatest fear had come to pass. In this cramped room, the consequences of such a fight were unthinkable.

Deng Yangfeng could not allow him to execute the move. He closed his eyes, placed his left hand before his chest, channeled massive internal energy into it, and blasted it toward Lin He. The energy formed a giant hand, pinning Lin He in place. The full extent of Deng Yangfeng’s power was terrifying.

Lin He hung in the air, unable to move. Looking at him, Tao Zhiming roared, "Lin He, I have said that I have never fought someone as young as you! Yet today you have forced me to act twice. Do you truly think I will not kill you?"

The words did not stun Lin He, but they terrified Mu Xiangming outside. She had not left; she had been eavesdropping. She had cried bitterly, wanting to open the door, but each time she reached for the cold handle, she retreated. Lin He was no longer the Lin He of the past. A month ago, he was someone who needed her protection, but now, he could exchange blows with Senior Deng! It was a terrifying growth. Mu Xiangming’s feelings for him had not faded; they had only intensified. But she knew she was no longer worthy of him. She just wanted to tell him she didn't blame him and hoped he wouldn't be sad.

With that thought, Mu Xiangming left, tears streaming down her face.

Lin He struggled in the air, his strength growing. Not to mention whether Lin He’s body could withstand such force, Tao Zhiming could not endure the pressure of this internal energy. Deng Yangfeng had to balance the force on both sides. But Lin He was like a wild beast, ignoring the limits of his own body. Deng Yangfeng was trapped in a dilemma: Lin He was getting stronger with no sign of waking up, and Tao Zhiming was crumbling under the strain.

Just as Deng Yangfeng was at a loss, Tao Zhiming suddenly spat out a mouthful of black blood.

"Lin He... do not... unleash your power... against your teacher..." Tao Zhiming said slowly.

Deng Yangfeng realized the danger. He immediately withdrew his hand from Lin He and poured all his energy into maintaining Tao Zhiming’s meridians.

Lin He fell heavily to the ground. Tao Zhiming’s words brought him back to his senses. He dropped his sword and scrambled to the bedside. He had not even processed the grief of losing his parents, and yet he had nearly killed his dying teacher. Lin He knelt by the bed, sobbing, "Teacher! This disciple is unfilial! I was wrong!"

Deng Yangfeng kept his eyes closed, both hands working to sustain Tao Zhiming.

Tao Zhiming slowly reached out and touched Lin He’s head. A look of satisfaction crossed his deathly pale face. He whispered, "Rise... I never expected... you could trade blows with Yangfeng... now... Teacher is immensely satisfied..."

Lin He stood up, his lips trembling, "Teacher... I am unfilial..."

Tao Zhiming shook his head slowly, pushing Deng Yangfeng’s hands away, "It is enough, Yangfeng... seeing you two reunited... I have completed my task..."

Deng Yangfeng said, "Zhiming, listen to me! Let me help you..." Tao Zhiming interrupted him, "Enough... Yangfeng... these many years... this old frame of mine... has seen enough... living any longer... would be a waste of food..."

Lin He stifled a sob, "Teacher..." Tao Zhiming raised his hand to stop him, then turned to Deng Yangfeng, "Yangfeng, step aside..." As Tao Zhiming pushed him away, Deng Yangfeng complied.

Once Deng Yangfeng moved, Tao Zhiming said weakly, "Yangfeng... help me move... facing the two of you is enough..." His voice was much weaker now. The "Spirit Sun Dragon-Phoenix Pill" had only served to extend his life; his body, ravaged by the Corpse Poison for a month, was already spent.

After adjusting his position, Tao Zhiming’s state worsened. The faint color in his lips vanished, replaced by a deathly pallor. He leaned against the wall to keep from collapsing.

After a moment, as if judging how much breath he had left, he forced out a few final words:

"Lin He... the name of a gentleman... originates from... the hearts of the people... and ends with... the hearts of the people..."

Tao Zhiming slumped against the wall, his head falling to the side. He never rose again.

"Teacher! Teacher!!! Teacher!!!!"

Tao Zhiming had passed away. He was known as one of the Four Masters of Letters. With his dying body, he gave Lin He a life’s purpose. Thirty years ago, when the two were traveling, it was during the height of the great drought in the Man Kingdom, when they truly saw the face of the world:

*The years change human nature,
Cannibalism brings boundless sorrow.
Corpses litter the fields, people devour one another,
The misery is too painful to contemplate.
When famine comes, there is no food,
Gnawing bones and chewing flesh, how can one bear to watch?
Hunger drives men to madness,
Even their own kind enters their bellies.
In years of famine, men eat men,
Even Heaven and Earth groan in sorrow.
The tragedy of famine consumes humanity,
What is left in the hearts of those who eat human flesh?*