The confession hung in the air, a chilling echo that sent a shockwave through the gathered martial artists. Wang Zedong's cruel smile froze on his face as the collective gasp of the crowd broke into a stunned silence. It was a silence filled with utter disbelief, a silence that felt heavier than the very air in the arena.
The truth of Yong Hao's death—a truth they had assumed and debated for months—was now laid bare. They stared at Wang Zedong, their faces slack with shock, their eyes wide with a terrible realization. The man who stood before them was not just the new leader of the Yueguang Sect; he was a murderer who had confessed his crime with a terrifying smile.
All eyes flickered from Wang Zedong to Yong Taihua, who stood frozen, his face a mask of dawning fury. The focus then fell on Ma Jingguo, who still lay on the ground, wounded and now completely shattered by a revelation that went beyond physical pain. Wang Zedong's voice had revealed a deeper, older grudge than anyone could have imagined.
Yong Gui rose to his feet and grabbed his son's hand, his grip firm and unyielding. "Hua'er," he said, his voice a quiet, desperate warning, "you are not his opponent."
"Father..." Yong Taihua pleaded, his face a mask of grief and fury.
Yong Gui pushed his son back with a gentle but firm shove. He looked at Wang Zedong, his expression grave. His voice, now a steel blade, cut through the silence. "What did Er shixiong do to you?" he demanded.
"That bastard!" Wang Zedong hissed, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "He helped the four clans and three sects take down Mu village. I should thank him! The idiot almost killed my son by burying him alive. If I hadn't gotten there in time, my son would have died right then and there."
He looked at Mu Dishi, his voice dropping to a low, trembling snarl. "Mu Jiao Long was a man full of secrets. He created many enemies in his lifetime, and he caused his own death when he took my beloved son away from me. My heir, my pride, and my joy, my beautiful son Changming." His voice cracked with a final, desperate confession. "Even after he died, Mu Jiao Long hid his body from me. I never got to see my son again."
Mu Dishi stood up, a deep, unsettling silence surrounding him. He walked toward Wang Biming and stopped in front of him, his cold, direct question piercing through the tense air. "You are his son?"
"Yes," Wang Biming answered, his voice a raw whisper.
Mu Dishi's phoenix eyes met his, a chilling accusation in their depths. "Did you participate in the killing of the Mu villagers?"
A flash of guilt and pain crossed Wang Biming's face.
"Answer," Mu Dishi said, his voice a sharp, cold command.
Wang Biming looked away, unable to hold his gaze. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
"My da ye loved you like his own flesh and blood," Mu Dishi said, his voice laced with a deep, heartbreaking disappointment. "He taught you everything he knew. How could you?" He looked at Wang Biming again, a final, desperate plea in his eyes. "Did you participate in the killing of the Mu villagers?"
"He dare not," Wang Zedong stated with a cold smile. "Do you want to know why?"
Mu Dishi's eyes remained fixed on Wang Biming, but he addressed his question to the father. "Why?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.
Wang Zedong let out a heavy sigh, a sound of profound disappointment. "Because my idiot son didn't want to hurt you. He refused to accept my order to kill Mu Jiao Long," he said, a madman's confession in his tone. "So, I had to come up with my own plan." He looked directly at Mu Dishi, his voice a chilling whisper. "The moment Mu Jiao Long and your father stepped into Tianshan Mountains and offended Suo Baojing, their fate was decided."
Lee Bai Kong rose to his feet. His voice, grave and solemn, cut through the tense silence. "Did you send an anonymous letter to Suo Baojing, stating that Mu Village were spies of the Mongol army?"
Wang Zedong's mouth curled into a mocking smile. His answer was a cold, unflinching "Yes," and a flicker of cruel satisfaction crossed his eyes.
"The so-called martial artists of the Central Plains praise themselves for protecting the weak and the innocent," he said, his voice now a chilling accusation. "But those three sects and four clans, praised by the very people they lied to, pulled out their swords and slaughtered seventy-one innocent, defenseless people."
He let out a loud, contemptuous laugh as he looked at the young martial artists. "So," he said, his voice a sly, tempting whisper, "do you want to follow their example, or will you join us?"
A low hum of chatter and disbelief spread through the fighting arena.
A condescending sneer crossed Wang Zedong's face. "No wonder the younger generation has never heard of the Mu incident," he said, the words a twisted kind of wisdom. "If you don't want others to know, don't do it."
He continued, his voice dropping to a conspirator's smug whisper. "Suo Baojing's hatred for Mu Jiao Long was immense. He paid a high price for my impeccable plan, killing his own master and his beloved da shixiong just to get it."
Elder Tong, who had been watching in stunned silence, stepped forward. His voice trembled with a grave accusation. "So, you are the real culprit?"
Wang Zedong shook his head slowly, a dismissive gesture. "We sell to those who want to buy," he said, his voice laced with a cold, chilling logic. "If he wasn't greedy, he wouldn't have followed the plan. It's the same for all those so-called martial artists who died trying to get the Mu treasure map. If they hadn't sought it, they wouldn't have died."
He let out a short, mocking laugh, looking directly at Elder Tong. "I did nothing wrong. A consultant only provides advice; it's up to the person seeking it to implement it or not."
After a moment of quiet contemplation, Bazar Batu's voice cut through the tense silence, resonating with cold logic. "Incorrect," he said. "Wang Zedong, if a consultant is malicious and deliberately provides information to a seeker who already harbors hatred, the seeker will not resist the urge to use it. You knew full well that Suo Baojing's hatred for Mu Jiao Long meant he would not hesitate to kill the people in Mu Village."
Bazar Batu's eyes narrowed. "I still don't understand why you would kill a weak old man like Monk Hao," he continued, a pointed finger now aimed at Wang Zedong. "Especially with the very dagger Mu Jiao Long gave his disciples... unless."
He paused, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his face as the last piece of the puzzle fell into place. "Oh," he said, the word a soft, chilling sound. "I understand now."
Wang Zedong gritted his teeth, his expression a mask of fury. "Little fellow, watch your mouth!"
Bazar Batu's voice remained calm, cutting through the tense air like a blade. "You wanted everyone to come after Mu Dishi." He pointed a finger at Wang Zedong. "Monk Hao was one of the people who went to Mu Village. Killing him with a disciple's knife that belonged to Mu Jiao Long would have perfectly implicated Mu Dishi."
Bazar Batu's deduction was a chilling conclusion, spoken with perfect clarity. "You knew Mu Dishi would kill anyone who came at him. So, you used him to clear your path for you, having him kill off your top opponents. It's like killing two, maybe even three, birds with one stone. You are indeed a master planner."
Wang Zedong simply smiled, his expression unreadable. "And why would I do that?" he asked.
Bazar Batu remained unfazed. "You just said it yourself a moment ago," he said, his voice cold and steady. "You hate Mu Jiao Long for taking away your beloved son. For not even giving you a chance to say goodbye."
He paused, a new, even more chilling thought dawning on him. His eyes widened slightly as he looked at Wang Zedong. "Wait a minute…" he continued, his voice barely a whisper. "If my guess is correct, Suo Baojing must have killed his master and his da shixiong to ensure that if he ever betrayed you, you could use that information to expose him. After killing them, he became a man on the back of a tiger—he couldn't stop or get off."
A new voice rose from the crowd, a clear and impressed praise. Yan Zhanjin smiled and shook his head in admiration. "Wow… I didn't know the mind of a little guy like you was so amazing."
A wry smile touched Bazar Batu's lips, a rare moment of levity in the tense silence. "I'm smart because I eat a lot of stinky tofu," he said.
The humor, however, did not reach Mu Dishi's cold, unblinking gaze. He looked at Wang Biming, his voice a quiet, piercing question. "What was your role?"
"I sent him information," Wang Biming replied, his voice barely a whisper.
A heavy silence fell over them. Then, Mu Dishi's voice dropped to an even colder tone. "Is there anything else you want to say?"
Wang Biming looked at Mu Dishi, his expression a mixture of profound regret and desperation. "I poisoned the wine we drank at your fifteenth birthday," he confessed, the words a raw whisper. "I was ordered to use the entire package of poison, but I didn't. I only put half of it in, thinking that would be enough to help Shifu defeat the three sects and four clan leaders."
Tears streamed down his face. "When I realized they had killed everyone... I... I decided to die. I'd rather die knowing you love me than live knowing you hate me. I truly believed Shifu escaped with you, but only after I woke up did, I learn that Shifu was killed." He looked at Mu Dishi, his voice a pained whisper. "Dishi, I'm sorry."
"Is there anything else?" Mu Dishi asked, his voice filled with an icy finality.
Wang Biming did not answer. He simply stared at Mu Dishi, his face a mask of pleading regret.
With a single, fluid motion, Mu Dishi reached into his inner robe and took out a handkerchief. He threw the small bundle to Wang Biming. The cloth unraveled in the air, revealing a necklace.
"Your item has been returned to you," Mu Dishi said, his voice a cold whisper of fury.
He didn't wait for a response. In a sudden, violent flash, two zither strings flew from his sleeve, their razor-sharp edges aimed directly at Wang Biming.
A numbing horror washed over Ma Jingguo. He watched in a daze, a single thought cutting through his pain: Wang Biming was right. When Mu Dishi hated someone, he did not hold back.
The two cold, lethal zither strings flew through the air, their path true to Wang Biming's chest. But in a blur of motion, Wang Zedong's hand shot out, catching the strings with a fierce grip just before they could strike. He pulled them taut, the thin lines humming with tension.
"Do you think the Killer String makes you number one in the martial arts world?" Wang Zedong asked, a guttural laugh rumbling in his chest. "Let me show you."
"Don't talk too much," Mu Dishi said, his voice a simple, cutting retort. With that, he unsealed Honglei and, in a furious lunge, launched a fierce attack on Wang Zedong.
"Father," Yong Taihua said, his voice a desperate plea, "if I can't kill him, I pray that shizun will."
Yong Gui let out a heavy sigh. "Let's hope so. Only three of the Five Lords are left."
"Father, who are the Five Lords?" Yong Taihua asked, his eyes wide.
Yong Gui's expression turned grim. "At the time, the most terrifying martial artists were given the title of Lords. There was Mu Jiao Long of the House of Mu, Gu Tingfuang of the House of Gu, Rao Qingsheng of the House of Rao, Wang Zedong of the House of Wang, and Cao Fengge of the House of Cao."
"They were called Lords because no matter where they went, they always left a trail of blood."
"Mu Dishi can easily defeat him," Bazar Batu stated with a casual dismissal.
"No," Yong Gui corrected, his voice grave. "Wang Zedong is using the Devil Fist, a martial art created for the sole purpose of destroying the Killer String."
"Does this mean shizun can lose?" Yong Taihua asked in a panicked whisper.
A grim silence settled over them. "Yes," Yong Gui replied. "He is likely to lose."
A collective gasp swept through the arena. Every person, including the wounded Ma Jingguo, watched the duel, their eyes wide with the terrible possibility of Mu Dishi's defeat.
A low murmur rippled through the crowd. A martial artist standing near the still-reeling Ma Jingguo spoke up, his voice a bitter admission. "No matter how much I hate Mu Dishi, I hope he defeats Wang Zedong."
"He may be skilled, but who are you kidding?" another man scoffed. "He's just an upstart. Wang Zedong is a Grandmaster."
With a blinding flash of steel, Mu Dishi swung his sword at Wang Zedong's head. Wang Zedong arched his back, gracefully deflecting the flexible sword's tip with his fingertips. In a blur of motion, Mu Dishi shifted to the left, and Honglei slid back into the leather sheath at his waist.
Wang Zedong flew forward, launching a fierce assault of two powerful fist attacks. Mu Dishi blocked the blows, but Wang Zedong's immense inner energy was overwhelming. The force sent Mu Dishi flying backward. Wang Zedong seized the opportunity, lunging forward with a final, devastating punch, aiming for Mu Dishi's chest.
At that moment, a single, choked cry ripped through the air. "Xiao shushu, be careful!" Ma Jingguo launched himself forward, a blur of motion, and stood directly in front of Mu Dishi. The full force of Wang Zedong's punch stopped just an inch from Ma Jingguo's face.
With a sudden, violent redirection, Wang Zedong pulled his fist from Ma Jingguo's face. The powerful strike, still filled with lethal inner energy, slammed into a stone lion statue nearby. The air crackled, and with a thunderous roar, the statue shattered into a thousand pieces, sending a cloud of dust into the air.
The entire arena fell into a stunned silence. The elder martial artists, who knew Wang Zedong's reputation for merciless killings, exchanged bewildered glances. He had every reason to finish his foe, yet for some reason, he hadn't.
"Move aside," Wang Zedong growled, his voice a harsh command.
Ma Jingguo stood his ground, a chilling defiance in his eyes. "If you want to kill him," he replied, his voice firm, "you must kill me first."
A mad, grief-stricken cry ripped from Wang Zedong's throat. "Do not be like Changming!"
Ma Jingguo met Wang Zedong's glare with a fierce, defiant one of his own. "If you touch him, I will kill you," he said, his voice a low growl.
Wang Zedong let out a cruel laugh. "Anyone in this arena can kill me," he sneered, pointing a finger first at Ma Jingguo, then at Wang Biming. "Anyone, except you two."
Ma Jingguo stood his ground, his voice firm. "I will kill you if you hurt my xiao shushu."
Wang Zedong's smile faded. His eyes narrowed as he asked, "Have you ever wondered why Mingzhu saved you?"
"My xiao shushu gave her the hairpin," Ma Jingguo replied, his voice simple and unblinking.
"Wrong," Wang Zedong said through gritted teeth, a sneer on his face. "It's because I instructed her to save you." He looked at Ma Jingguo, a cruel grin spreading across his lips. "Did that worthless mother of yours ever teach you not to disrespect your elders?"
"She did," Ma Jingguo replied, his voice shaking with a mad fury, "but only those who are kind to me."
"That bastard mother of yours," Wang Zedong sighed, his gaze now a chilling stare. "She was more loyal to me than anyone else. Even moments before her death, she still followed my order to have you stay with Mu Dishi."
Mu Dishi stared at Wang Zedong coldly, his eyes as sharp as blades.
A furious shout ripped from Ma Jingguo's throat. "Stop calling my mother a bastard child!" he yelled, his hands clenched into fists. He looked at Wang Zedong, his teeth gritted. "What do you mean by 'last order'?"
"She is my bastard child," Wang Zedong declared, a chilling sneer on his face. "I have the right to call her whatever I want." He looked directly at Ma Jingguo, his eyes holding a cold, triumphant glint. "My last order for her was to die, and to leave you to stay with Mu Dishi to learn his Killer String... But I had no chance to meet you before Mu Dishi kicked you out."
A collective gasp swept through the arena.
"No..." Ma Jingguo murmured, the word a heartbroken whisper. His mind flashed back to his mother dying on the ground by the teahouse, her final words echoing in his ears. She is someone else's pawn... she doesn't have anyone who will stand beside her other than her shadow. The words, once a mystery, now made a terrible, painful sense. Tears streamed down his face. "If my mother is your child," he asked, his voice shaking, "then you are..."
Wang Zedong nodded slowly. "Your lao ye."
Ma Jingguo looked at Wang Biming, his eyes wide with shock. "And him?"
"Your jiu jiu," Wang Zedong replied.
Tears of a different kind, a mix of grief and confusion, fell down Ma Jingguo's face. "Then we are..."
Wang Zedong's smile was dark and triumphant. "Family."
Ma Jingguo turned to Mu Dishi, the man he had just protected with his life, the man he loved more than life itself. His voice was a final, desperate plea. "That means xiao shushu is...?"
Wang Zedong's smile vanished, replaced by a cold, venomous glare. "Your enemy."