“Creak.”
The courtyard gate swung open. Looking at the person standing outside, the young girl was somewhat bewildered.
Without a word, Lian Youming gave a chuckle and squeezed right past her.
He was tall and broad-shouldered to begin with, and that single movement made him look anything but decent. Panic flared in the girl's eyes immediately. Pulling her collar tight, she scrambled back several paces, gripping a pair of scissors in her hand, trembling with sheer terror.
The courtyard was not large—narrow and cramped, in fact.
A few sprigs of plum blossoms had formed buds, arranged in a corner.
In the center of the courtyard sat a winnowing basket where large dried dates were laid out under the sun.
Lian Youming scooped up a few dates and began chewing, speaking as he ate: “There are quite a few people outside... Hiss, these dates are really sweet.”
With his right foot, he casually hooked the gate shut behind him. His gaze wandered idly around the space, paying no mind to the girl's shivering. He went on to himself, “Back when I was sent down to the countryside in the Northeast, I met an old fellow. Right before he died, he asked me to come have a look at you on his behalf.”
The moment those words left his mouth, a subtle shift rippled through the girl's panicked eyes. It was as if hatred, inner conflict, agony, and reluctant sorrow were all tangled together, and the rims of her eyes flushed red.
*So she really can hear.*
Lian Youming's gaze locked onto her, cursing that bastard Xie Laosan ten thousand times in his heart. The man had definitely lied to him on purpose.
The reason was simple.
The old fox had surely guessed his granddaughter's current predicament, yet had not dared to speak plainly. He had kept things vague and secretive, banking on the certainty that once Lian Youming came here, he would never sit by and watch an orphaned girl be bullied.
“That old rascal.”
A wave of startled irritation rose within Lian Youming.
The two of them had been enemies, yet at death's door, Xie Laosan had actually placed his faith in an enemy and entrusted his granddaughter to him. How pathetic, how helpless—and yet, how impossible to refuse.
Because Xie Laosan had believed in him.
Believed that he was a good person, and even more, that he was someone worthy of trust.
It was precisely because of that faith that the old man had been willing to fight to the death at the critical moment, risking his life in all-out battle. He had hoped that the slim bond of fighting side by side against a common foe might win his granddaughter a fleeting breath of respite, no matter how faint the hope.
A dying man who had committed countless evils had, in the very end, placed his faith in the goodness he had once betrayed—and pinned what little hope remained upon his enemy.
How ridiculous.
“Heh, truly ridiculous.” Lian Youming found it laughable himself, but what followed was a sigh. “Though the timing is terrible. Xie Laosan, you probably never imagined how many enemies I've stirred up by now, either. Add your granddaughter on top of that, and I don't even know if I can hold the line.”
Those words already revealed Lian Youming's inner decision.
Whether he could hold the line was another matter; the only thing he needed to do now was prove that Xie Laosan had not misplaced his trust.
Some people saw each other day in and day out, crossing paths morning and evening, yet never became friends; instead, they might turn into rivals plotting against one another, perhaps even stabbing each other in the back.
Yet some people met only once and exchanged no more than two or three sentences, and that alone was enough to make them confidants sworn in life and death.
Xie Laosan, of course, was neither his friend nor his confidant. He was an enemy, and Lian Youming wouldn't feel an ounce of pity over his death—yet the man had trusted him.
Inside the house stood Xie Laosan's memorial tablet.
Lian Youming looked at the tablet with a faint smile. “Xie Laosan, you weren't completely blind after all. Good eye. My character really is beyond reproach.”
If for nothing else, he was willing to give Xie Laosan one last chance to believe in goodness again.
Even if the man was already dead.
Looking at the furnishings of the room, which were practically bare walls, Lian Youming took a full circle around before turning to meet her willow-leaf-shaped, narrow eyes, then taking in her pale cheeks. “No wonder you're eating big dates. You look a bit anemic, and undernourished too. What's your name?”
The girl was clad in a rather worn, snug padded jacket. Her fingers clenched tightly, and she did not speak. She merely stood there motionless with reddened eyes, neither approaching nor withdrawing. After a long while, she drew a small notebook from her pocket and pointed to the characters written inside.
“Xie Ruomei.”
Then she quickly scribbled three more characters:
“You leave quickly.”
Lian Youming finally understood. The girl could hear, but she still couldn't speak.
Just then, the sound of hurried footsteps approached from outside the courtyard, followed by the rustle of two figures vaulting over the wall and landing in the yard.
Lian Youming tossed the last date in his palm into his mouth and turned to look. The two who had leaped in were young men with wasp waists, ape-like arms, and leopard shoulders—practitioners of martial arts at a glance.
One of them crossed his arms over his chest. In the dead of winter, he wore nothing more than a blue-and-white striped sailor shirt, his expression cold and aloof. “Boy, what kind of trash are you? State your name!”
Lian Youming grinned. “You first.”
The man narrowed his knife-sharp eyes. “What's your connection to Xie Laosan and the White Lotus Sect?”
Lian Youming stated plainly, “Enemies.”
“Bullshit,” spat the slightly older, bearded young man beside him. “If you were really his enemy, would you be standing there smiling?”
Lian Youming stopped chewing. “Then who do you say I am?”
The bearded man sneered. “If you ask me, you're either a disciple of Xie Laosan, an evil cultist of the White Lotus Sect, or maybe some fancy man this little bastard brought in. Heh.”
Lian Youming smiled along, curling his lips and squinting his eyes. “Fine, then. Whatever you say.”
The bearded man's laughter stiffened, the muscles of his cheeks twitching. “Then today, you might just have to leave here on your back.”
Lian Youming curled his lip. “Here I thought you meant to kill me. Heh, quite polite of you. In that case, I'll make sure you leave on your back too.”
The two across from him burst out laughing.
“Where did this clown crawl out from? I'm from the Yanqing Sect!”
Lian Youming scoffed. “Never heard of it.”
“You're courting death!”
The other man's face turned icy. Stepping in an arc, his arms whipped forward like pythons as he closed in, angling for the shoulder and locking around the waist—it was wrestling grappling.
Yet the moment his hands made contact with Lian Youming's body, a crisp toad's croak resonated by his ear.
The sound was not loud, yet it felt as if a basin of freezing water had been dumped over his head, shocking him to his core.
His fingers had meant to seize the tendons and bones, clamping down on joints and soft ribs. But the instant the toad croak sounded, Lian Youming's clothes puffed out silently, as if stuffed with cotton. The incoming force sank like a clay ox plunging into the sea, leaving him clutching nothing but a layer of fabric.
“Toad Fishing Skill?”
Hearing that toad croak, the bearded youth's complexion changed drastically as well. Shaking both arms, the wrinkles on his sleeves were smoothed flat in an instant by an uncanny force. His arms swung forward like twin steel whips, whistling through the air with an ear-splitting howl.
Even as he struck, he didn't forget to shout hurriedly, “Brother, wait, don't—”
Tongbei Fist, Great Sage Fist, Pigua...
From this single attack alone, Lian Youming recognized three kinds of internal martial arts. As for the man's words, they fell on deaf ears.
Fists were already flying right at his face, and the guy was telling him not to fight? What a joke.
Meeting the trembling eyes of the young man before him, Lian Youming laid both hands on the man's arms, his fingers slightly curled in a half-grip. The moment his silk-reeling force latched on, the youth's face turned ashen. He endured for less than half a breath before his center of gravity was thrown into complete disarray.
Lian Youming's burly frame suddenly contracted with the flow; leaping backward, he dragged the force along, sending the youth pitching forward like a marionette with severed strings.
Just as he tumbled midair, a kick struck his chest, slamming him through the courtyard gate. He flipped backward out of the courtyard, kicking up a flurry of snow without uttering a single groan.
Seeing this, the bearded man let out a furious grunt. His arms whirled with a terrifying howl of fierce power. Yet Lian Youming remained unhurried. Upon landing, he bent his knees to stabilize himself, his padded jacket rustling as it shook the snow from his shoulders.
His feet stood in a neither-T-nor-eight stance, his paired Cotton Palms pressing lightly against the empty air, appearing as soft and powerless as if stirring water. But as he reached forward, his palms brushed right over the incoming fists.
The bearded man's pupils shrank. Hard force erupted from his arms in an effort to wrench free.
Yet Lian Youming's Cotton Palms clung like maggots on a bone, moving along with the force, pushing and deflecting while his feet traced arcs in a circular walk, making him appear glued to the man's body.
The bearded man's eyelids twitched madly. His internal force surged, and a series of crisp pops like roasting soybeans faintly crackled between their fists and palms. Yet try as he might, he could not break free of Lian Youming's Cotton Palms. His once-steady breathing turned visibly labored.
As the opponent's breath weakened, Lian Youming was still smiling. Stepping in close, he drove his right shoulder into the man's chest. The bearded man's limbs flailed, and he too went flying outward.
In the snow, the bearded man tumbled in disgrace, asking in a hoarse voice, “Are you the one who made an enemy of the Eagle Claw Sect?”
Lian Youming said calmly, “That's me. What about it? What sect are you from?”
The bearded man's face flushed crimson. “I'm from the Pigua Sect. You can barely protect yourself right now, yet you dare wade into these muddy waters?”
Lian Youming laughed. “You're amusing. You're the ones who attacked at the drop of a hat. Besides, if I can barely protect myself anyway, what do I have to be afraid of?”
The bearded young man's expression grew even uglier. “Xie Tianhong was not only a member of the White Lotus Sect, but he also forged grudges with our sects... Are you determined to protect this little bastard?”
Lian Youming frowned slightly upon hearing that. “Has she done anything wicked?”
The bearded youth said chillingly, “No.”
Lian Youming retorted irritably, “Then what nonsense are you spewing?”
With bloodshot eyes, the bearded youth hissed, “A father's debts must be paid by the child!”
Hearing this, Lian Youming scratched his head in annoyance. “Can we negotiate?”
The bearded youth stood up and snarled fiercely, “No.”
Lian Youming pondered for a moment and inquired, “If I want to resolve the grudge between the Xie family and you all, what must be done?”
Across the vast white snow, an old man in a Zhongshan suit approached with his hands behind his back. He had gray whiskers and gray eyebrows, well past sixty years of age.
“Do you have ties to this girl?”
Lian Youming sighed. “None. Today is the first time I've ever seen her.”
The old man asked again, “Then why protect her?”
Lian Youming smiled lazily. “I know Xie Tianhong was no good person, but what can I do? I'm just warmhearted by nature, always eager to learn from Comrade Lei Feng and do good deeds.”
The old man nodded, thought for a moment, and said calmly, “A young man with great courage. Back in the Republican era, Cangzhou had a street lined with martial arts halls—twenty-eight at its peak. Back then, if a grudge needed settling, a challenge ring had to be set up on the street, depending on the severity of the grievance. If someone who had committed wrongs wished to turn back and dissolve the enmity, he had to fight nine consecutive matches alone. Those nine were all top fighters put forward by each school. Only by winning could one establish a foothold... It was called ‘street-breaking.’”
Lian Youming said teasingly, “Understood. A gauntlet of matches. But I don't have that much time to wait on you.”
The old man's gaze was calm. “Then we will wait on you. We know you have a grievance to settle with the Eagle Claw Sect. If you can stay alive, come back and break the street.”
Lian Youming chuckled somewhat unrestrainedly, pointing toward the shadows. “These people can't be lingering here every single day to keep watch, can they?”
The old man's tone remained calm. “Rest assured. Since you have put it this way, they naturally will not show themselves during this period, nor do you need to worry about anyone playing underhanded tricks from behind.”
“Proper,” Lian Youming said, his tiger-like eyes narrowing slightly. “Old man, who might you be? Does your word carry weight?”
A flicker stirred in the old man's eyes. “All things considered, Xie Tianhong and I were once sworn brothers ready to die for each other. As for whether my word counts, let's put it this way: Li Da is my martial uncle, and I am of the Baji Sect. As for our names, if you return alive, you will know.”
Lian Youming's posture relaxed immediately, and he cupped his hands. “Many thanks!”
The old man took a deep look at the youth before him, who stood like a fierce tiger. Without another word, he turned and walked away.
Chapter 75