"Are you Poisonous Hand Tianxing?"
In Black Cloud City, inside a dark hut on Wuwang Black Market Street, Ming Qi glared grimly at a small, skinny old man with barely any flesh on his body.
Ming Qi's expression was rather grim. The old man was slovenly dressed, his eyes like rats, and he exuded a pungent, deadly aura. His hands were as black as ink, like eagle claws dipped in ink.
Confronted with Ming Qi's questioning, the old man trembled as if nothing had happened, pouring wine from a broken wine jug.
"You're not talking?"
Ming Qi felt his anger rising again, and suppressing his rage, he asked again.
Sure enough, the old man remained silent, not even raising his head.
Ming Qi said no more. His eyes flashed, and he pointed at the old man. A ball of light erupted, locking him within it. The light transformed into strands as thin as hair, shrinking continuously.
If this continued, it wouldn't be long before the old man was chopped into pieces.
With a clang, the wine jug fell to the ground.
The old man finally raised his head, glanced at Ming Qi, then suddenly smiled. His voice was hoarse, "In our line of work, there are rules. No matter what anyone asks, I won't tell you, even if I die."
"You're being stubborn, but it doesn't matter. I'll search your soul!"
With that, Ming Qi extended his right hand and reached for the old man's crown.
A flicker of fear crossed the old man's face, but then he recovered and let Ming Qi's hand continue.
Ming Qi placed his right hand on the old man's crown. A moment later, a wisp of gray soul light was directly grasped. Ming Qi immediately penetrated it with his spiritual consciousness, easily occupying his soul. Countless information then flooded in.
The old man was undoubtedly Poison Hand Tianxing, and he had clearly experienced many things. His soul contained a vast amount of information. Ming Qi spent considerable effort to eliminate the useless information, and finally, a piece of information emerged in his mind.
It wasn't a large amount of information, but Ming Qi read it several times until his face turned ashen and dark.
"Hmph! The most reputable person in the Wuwang black market?"
Ming Qi gently pinched his thumb and index finger, and the old man's soul completely shattered.
Then he suddenly extended his right hand and drew in the air before him with lightning speed. In a matter of seconds, a figure emerged.
It was the image of a young girl, quite beautiful, her eyes filled with determination.
Ming Qi stared at the image, silent for a long moment, then suddenly burst into laughter.
"Hahahaha..."
Ming Qi laughed hysterically for over ten minutes, even crying until tears came. The image before him gradually faded and eventually vanished.
Xing Yun, standing beside him, watched with awe. It was unimaginable that a master at the Martial Emperor level could actually laugh until tears came. This kind of thing could only happen when one's mood was at its worst. It was clearly a sign of severe emotional distress.
After a long while, Ming Qi's condition improved somewhat. He wiped his face with his hand and said to Xing Yun, "Let's go. I think this matter is almost over."
After leaving Black Cloud City, Ming Qi did not travel to other parts of Xilan Province. Instead, he returned directly to Qiankun Mountain and had Xing Yun send a message to gather everyone back. He himself sat alone on the summit of Qiankun Mountain, silent.
Ming Qi recognized the girl in the image; it was Mo Lan.
Although years have passed, and the little girl has grown into a graceful young lady, Ming Qi's initial image has left a deep impression. It was Molan. There was no way she could be wrong!
Did Molan orchestrate this incident? Or was someone else behind the scenes?
Ming Qi subconsciously hoped that someone had been behind this whole thing from beginning to end, and that Molan wasn't the mastermind or the instigator. But all signs indicated that the possibility was almost zero.
In Ming Qi's memory, Molan had always been a book-loving and extremely quiet girl. As a child, she had a distinct characteristic: she loved to laugh, but never cried or made a fuss.
"What needs to be faced must be faced. If you don't want to face this, then leave it to me."
After an unknown amount of time, Xingyun approached Ming Qi and said.
She had observed Ming Qi's actions and could naturally guess the reason.
Ming Qi looked up at the blood-red sky and said, "You're right. What needs to be faced must be faced, and this time, I can go alone."
With that, Ming Qi stood up and, with a clean, sharp movement, soared into the air, heading towards the Mo family's Jiufang City.
Xing Yun, standing on the mountaintop, watched Ming Qi fly away but didn't follow. Since he said he would handle it alone, then he could handle it alone.
Under the blood-red setting sun, Jiufang Palace exuded a deep, bleak atmosphere. Ming Qi had been there many times before, and while the place he faced now was still the same, he could sense a difference.
The difference was its extraordinary silence.
The Jiufang Palace was eerily quiet, and under the blood-red setting sun, it resembled a stunning dead city.
Ming Qi paused in the air before traversing the air. In a matter of minutes, he arrived at the gates of Juque Palace.
The Jiufang Palace houses the Juque, the heart of the Mohist school and its foundation.
Ming Qi completely ignored the guards at the gate and strode in unperturbed. Two guards who tried to intervene were instantly blown away by Ming Qi's powerful aura and fell unconscious.
At this moment, in a room deep within the Juque Palace, the young girl Mo Lan was writing on a piece of paper with a single hand. On the desk and on the floor nearby, written papers were scattered everywhere.
A closer look revealed that the piles of paper were written with the same words: Yanshan, Miao Sanlang.
Yanshan is Ming Qi's hometown, and Miao Sanlang is Ming Qi's nickname.
Mo Lan patiently wrote over and over again, always with the same few words, but each time she finished, it seemed as if her writing was unsatisfactory. After finishing, she would throw it away, then spread out a new sheet of paper and continue writing.
She finished writing another page and casually tossed it aside. Just as she was about to pull out another sheet, her hand suddenly paused and she looked out the window.
Outside, the setting sun was still bloodshot.
Knowing the person she was waiting for had arrived, she dropped her pen on the table, straightened her long silk dress, and was about to open the door to leave when she suddenly noticed a figure passing by, and there was now another person in the room.
Molan gave a self-deprecating chuckle and leaned against the table, her clear eyes gazing silently at Mingqi, who had suddenly appeared.
Mingqi's gaze seemed to deliberately avoid Molan, falling directly on the scattered white papers. Seeing the same few words on all of them, he was stunned.
"I was just trying to find some trace of the past in these words. Unfortunately, ten years have passed. I'm no longer myself, and you're no longer you."