Fu Yuanjun was lost in thought, reeling from the identity of the woman in the grave. As far as he could remember, he didn't even know that he had a mother; he only knew that Cao Fengge was his father and that he had been raised by a nanny. He had always thought he was a son without a mother, yet she was resting in this lonely and secluded place for so many years.
Cao Fengge spoke, his voice unusually raw, explaining his history. "I was weak at the time and lost your mother. At that time, the Fu family was not well-known, but with the wealth of the Huo family, they helped me build Beixing Sector." He confessed his attempt to escape his obligations. "I didn't want to get married to someone that my parents chose for me. So, I ran away. I went to find the 'Killer String' and 'Devil's Fist' Manuals."
He smiled faintly, recalling the moment they met. "When I saw your mother, she was washing clothes with the villager women. The women were singing local songs." Cao Fengge quoted from his memory, his voice tinged with melancholy:
"She set the table for a final meal,
A last moment with her love.
For in the morning, he will march to war.
Who knows when he will come home?
Who knows if he'll walk, or return on a horse's back?
She painted her lips the color of blood.
Smiled as she waved goodbye, no tears to fall.
He'll remember her smile when he thinks of her face,
Not the sadness she held back.
For who knows when he will come home?
Who knows if he'll walk, or return on a horse's back?"
He looked at Fu Yuanjun. "The first time I saw your mother, I fell in love with her." He chuckled ruefully. "Her smile is beyond the reach of any woman in comparison. But then we met too late."
Fu Yuanjun asked the question that pained him. "If you love her, why don't you marry her?"
Cao Fengge's face darkened. "I planned to marry her as agreed, but she was someone else's wife. So, I ran... ran back to the place I hated the most. But one day, she appeared in front of me. She was pregnant. She begged me to stay, but I refused to let her stay because I was afraid. There were some incomprehension between us that made her leave me. From that day on, I never saw her again until her body and you came to my door."
He touched the cold tombstone, his voice thick with guilt. "Liqin, you must have hated me to death. You would rather give the Killer String Manual to Mu Jiao Long instead of me. You would rather have Mu Jiao Long give our child to someone else but unwilling to let me raise Yuan'er." He pointed at Fu Yuanjun. "You look at our son, growing up so strong. I trained him with all my knowledge to make him stronger. Stronger than me, so when he encounters difficulties, he will not be like me, always afraid and always running away from his problem."
Fu Yuanjun knelt before his mother's tombstone. He kowtowed three times and began to help Cao Fengge solemnly clean up Li Liqin's tomb.
After the father and son finished, they sat in front of Li Liqin's tomb to rest. Cao Fengge returned to his tactical demeanor. "Yuan'er, do you know why I had you lose to Wenyan?"
Fun Yuanjun, having processed the profound revelations, answered honestly. "I don't know, Father."
Cao Fengge revealed the political move. "Your place is not a servant in the Gu household. From now on, your surname is going to be Fu. Do you remember the story I told you about Fu Shushu?"
Fu Yuanjun said, his voice flat, "Yes."
Cao Fengge gave the final instructions that would define his life. "Yuan'er, you will be his son from now on." Fu Shushu was a man of status who would provide a cover identity. "You must enter Tianshan as his son and remember not to reveal your true identity."
Fu Yuanjun asked the lingering question. "Father, why do you never let me use the surname Cao?"
Cao Fengge smiled, showing a sentimental side rarely seen. "In addition to being a member of the Four Households in the martial arts world, what benefit does the surname Cao have?" He looked at Fu Yuanjun with genuine affection. "When I met your mother, I thought about changing my surname to Li and ran away with her. So, you are Li Yuanjun, not Cao Yuanjun." Cao Fengge paused, making his final declaration. "Yuan'er, I want you to know that you are my favorite son. I don't want you to be my heir, but I want you to be the supreme leader of the entire martial arts world."
Fu Yuanjun finally understood the full, terrifying scope of his existence. He knelt in front of Cao Fengge, his eyes wet with a mixture of pain and relief. "Father, I'm sorry, I doubted you. I thought you never cared about me."
Cao Fengge helped Fu Yuanjun up and embraced him tightly, a final, necessary act of manipulation. "Yuan'er, you are my proudest son. Only after undergoing the cruelest training can, you become a true champion."
After that, he went to Tianshan and became a disciple. He knew that he was far more skillful than the usual Tianshan disciple, but he deliberately pretended to be weak and was often bullied by his seniors, regarding this humiliation as part of his practice. As Fu Yuanjun—the supposed son of Fu Shirong—he soon established a name for himself.
Fu Yuanjun reflected that he had to thank Mu Dishi, because without Mu Dishi's status, his plan to become Fu Shirong's son would never have been successful. But in the end, Mu Dishi had figured out the truth.
He still remembered what Mu Dishi said to him on the day of his celebration, a clear warning. 'If you ever done Tianshan wrong and ruin my Yeye's reputation, I will kill you with my own hand.' Despite knowing the truth, Fu Yuanjun did not expect that Mu Dishi would then willingly hand him the Sword Spirit Manual.
He sighed and opened as the bun in his hand came into focus, Fu Yuanjun abruptly snapped out of his deep contemplation. The ordinary bun was still in his hand, a reminder of the poverty and hunger that had defined his childhood. Elder Tong was looking at him with concern. The memory of his tortured past, his sacrificial love, and his brutal destiny—all of which Cao Wenyan had ignorantly dismissed—were now fresh in his mind.
He knew his position as the "rarest pantao" was both a blessing and a curse. His fate was to protect the very brother who hated him and to lead the Tianshan Sector, a destiny handed to him by the same man who had loved and abandoned him.
Fu Yuanjun stood up, the tension of the present moment finally overriding the echoes of his past.
When Cao Fengge ordered him to kill Mu Dishi, Fu Yuanjun hesitated. But he knew the cold logic of his destiny: Mu Dishi had to die, otherwise, he would be his biggest obstacle to becoming the supreme leader of the martial arts world—the destiny his father wanted for him, the title that would grant him Yuan Chaomei's hand.
Just like that, he delivered a crushing palm strike to Mu Dishi and, in the process, pierced him with the seven-color poison needle Cao Fengge had given him a few days before he entered the secret tunnel. Unexpectedly, Mu Dishi—Mu Dishi who had shown him such kindness—pulled out a hidden trick to block the tunnel entrance, trapping himself inside. But it made no difference. With the seven-color poison, Mu Dishi was guaranteed to die within seven days. There was no way Mu Dishi would live until now.
Fu Yuanjun was even more pleased when Gu Jinjing later told him that Ma Jingguo was injured and killed in the same battle with Zan Huangming. With one single punch and one seven-color poisoned needle, he had eliminated two of his most powerful potential enemies in the younger generation.
He sighed, the memory heavy with guilt and satisfaction, and opened his eyes, blinking back into the present.
Elder Tong was looking at him with an expression of quiet concern. "What are you thinking?"
Fu Yuanjun offered a neutral, practiced smile, letting the memory of his darkest crime settle. "It's a bit regretful to think about the past."
Elder Tong nodded gently, offering the Taoist wisdom of letting go. "What happened in the past, let it stay in the past."
Fu Yuanjun smiled genuinely at the old man, who knew nothing of the weight he carried. "You are right, whatever happened in the past, let it stay in the past." He took a deliberate bite of the plain bun, the taste a reminder of his painful beginnings and the price of his current title.