Continuation

Feng Xiu was stunned by the scene.

Uncle Zheng's throat bobbed as he rasped, "Chief Escort Zhou is a martial artist at the Inner Qi realm, his whole body shielded by Qi. Even a hundred-catty strongbow or crossbow bolt can't scratch him."

"This palm wound was left by a woman~"

Even without Uncle Zheng's words, the two could see it—the palm print was delicate and small, razor-sharp in its clarity.

Feng Ao paid it no heed. He solemnly gripped Zhou Gang's arm again, feeling his pulse, his brow furrowed deep.

Martial arts and medicine were inseparable. In the healing arts, Feng Ao surpassed most ordinary physicians. Swiftly, he tapped several acupoints on Zhou Gang's chest—the Tanzhong—and then a few on his back.

After he finished, a ruddy flush gradually rose to Zhou Gang's face, and the pain in his expression eased slightly.

"Father, how is Uncle Zhou?" Only then did Feng Xiu dare to ask, rushing the words out.

Feng Ao let out a long breath and said slowly, "Brother Zhou's pulse is chaotic, and the circulation of his Qi and blood through his meridians is blocked."

Feng Xiu was lost. He turned to look at Uncle Zheng.

Seeing his confusion, Uncle Zheng explained, "Chief Escort Zhou isn't seriously hurt. It's just that his Qi and blood have gone awry, and he's fainted for now."

A common ailment among martial artists—basically everyone encounters similar issues during cultivation, more or less.

But placed in the context of Su Wantang's affair, it no longer seemed so ordinary.

Su Wantang could knock Zhou Gang into this state with a single palm strike?

Feng Xiu fell silent at the words.

At the end of the day, the man had gotten into this mess because of him.

"Wen Zheng, tell me now, from start to finish—what exactly happened?" Feng Ao's gaze burned as he fixed it on Feng Xiu, his eyes carrying an unspoken authority.

Feng Xiu nodded, then laid out everything without holding back.

During it, Uncle Zheng chimed in to corroborate—Feng Xiu had only made the decisions; the real executor had been him.

"No entry records, a clean contract, and the mastermind behind the Fragrant Flower Pavilion is the Wu Clan. How much do they really know about this?"

Feng Ao's eyes narrowed. The whole affair reeked of something sinister.

Zhou Gang's baffling memory loss didn't shake him much, but that palm print stirred up a flood of thoughts.

Feng Xiu didn't know much about the Inner Qi realm, but Feng Ao understood it well. Inner Qi, commonly called Divine Qi, was different from Blood Burning's inner force.

Inner Qi meant cultivating a strand of Innate Qi in the dantian—also known as an Innate expert. The body's Qi and blood blazed hot, warding off all evils, scaring away spirits and demons alike!

And in all of Green Rock City, there were only eleven such experts—including himself!

"Not simple, huh~" Feng Ao mused, a cold smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. "Using my son as a pawn in a scheme, and hurting my brother on top of that. Fine, fine, very fine!"

At the end of his words, a fierce killing intent suddenly erupted, freezing the air. The entire hall trembled faintly, teacups and tables rattling with a hum.

"Wen Zheng." Then, Feng Ao gave the order.

At that moment, Feng Xiu seemed lost in some memory. As it surged forth, Feng Ao called him several times without getting a response.

Uncle Zheng reached out and tugged his sleeve.

Feng Xiu snapped back to reality, his expression grave. "Father, this matter isn't that simple."

"How long has Su Wantang been in Green Rock City? Three months. She went from a refugee orphan to the top courtesan of the Fragrant Flower Pavilion. Money came to her as easily as picking it up off the ground."

Feng Xiu's voice was calm. "Since she can even erase memories, money is just a number to her."

"Getting close to Shouzhuo—what's she after? Aside from his status as the Feng Clan's young master, what else is worth scheming for?"

Uncle Zheng's face shifted. "Are you saying, Young Master..."

At this, Feng Xiu turned back to Feng Ao and suddenly asked a seemingly unrelated question. "Back then, how long did it take you to obtain the River Law Seal?"

Feng Ao's pupils contracted. A brief silence fell over the hall.

"Three years," Uncle Zheng cut in from the side. "But that doesn't add up. What would she want with the River Law Seal? She doesn't need to irrigate fields."

"Because there's something in the reservoir!"

After weighing it carefully, Feng Xiu decided to reveal what he'd seen earlier—the scale he'd encountered in the reservoir.

"This is bizarre. The rain had just fallen in the city, and right after, Su Wantang cleanly killed Liu Wenjun and wounded Uncle Zhou, who came looking for trouble."

Su Wantang wasn't after money. Since she'd set her sights on Feng Shouzhuo, the answer was obvious.

Given the Feng Clan's unique position, there seemed to be only one thing that allowed free access to the reservoir: the River Law Seal.

The hall fell into another brief silence. Feng Ao slowly rose, his gaze landing on Feng Xiu's face.

"That's too presumptuous. What makes you think there's something unclean in the reservoir? Just based on a single scale?"

Feng Xiu said nothing. He couldn't refute it—that was how speculation worked.

He'd already thrown away that scale back then. Without even a physical object, how could he make the two of them believe?

"It's just a hypothesis. The River Law Seal is on me at all times, so Su Wantang definitely can't get her hands on it easily. That's why she targeted Shouzhuo."

"But if we follow this line of thought, the Jade Belt Reservoir won't be opened again anytime soon. Since it won't open, whatever's inside can't get out. So Su Wantang would have no reason to stay."

Feng Xiu added, his voice heavy.

Right now, the three of them were stuck—every lead had gone cold. Zhou Gang was unconscious, Su Wantang had fled, and Liu Wenjun was dead.

But if they followed Feng Xiu's line of thinking, things seemed to connect, which also meant this rain had thrown a wrench into Su Wantang's plans.

Add to that Zhou Gang showing up at their doorstep, and with nothing left to gain by staying, the only option left was to injure Zhou Gang and make a break for it.

At this moment, after Feng Xiu finished speaking, his expression was calm.

Yet beneath his thoughts, a flicker of absurd delight flashed through him.

Yes, delight—sheer delight!

The unknown methods Su Wantang possessed weren't enough to crush a martial arts expert outright.

The patrons of the Fragrant Flower Pavilion had also said they once heard sounds of a struggle from Su Wantang's room. If Su Wantang truly had godlike, unfathomable abilities, Zhou Gang should be a dead man. Hell, even more than that—

He should have been reduced to dust, with no one the wiser!

In other words, martial arts still had a fighting chance!

"So tell me," Feng Ao asked, "what else is in the Tang Reservoir?"

"I'm not sure, but I want to check the underground channels."

The reservoir's main gate couldn't be opened, but near the Feng Clan's farmlands, there were some dried-up drainage channels.

If Su Wantang's goal was to release some kind of creature, and if that scale-covered thing wasn't alone, they might find traces in those channels.

Feng Ao studied him for a moment, then slowly nodded. "Be careful."

"I understand."

Just as Feng Xiu was about to get up, Uncle Zheng suddenly spoke. "Young Master, this old servant has a word, if I may."

"Speak."

Uncle Zheng glanced at Feng Ao. "If Su Wantang can erase the memories of Chief Escort Zhou, Han Che, and the madams—in other words, anyone she comes into contact with—then wouldn't she also target the Second Young Master?"

Feng Ao froze. Feng Xiu froze even harder.

Feng Shouzhuo!

Damn it, how could they have forgotten him!

"Quick, go check on Shouzhuo." Feng Ao's face changed color as he spoke at once.

Uncle Zheng accepted the order solemnly. The moment he pushed open the door, he saw the anxious faces of the escort team members, but he had no time for them.

He pushed through the crowd and hurried away.

Feng Xiu stepped forward instead.

"Young Master Feng, how is our chief escort?" Han Che asked, his voice tense from the crowd.

"Everyone, no need to worry," Feng Xiu replied, a reassuring smile on his lips, though inwardly he had no confidence.

"I've already sent for an excellent physician."

Han Che still wasn't at ease. He went into the hall to confirm Zhou Gang was out of danger, then finally let out a breath.

"Then we're in your debt, Young Master Feng." Han Che clasped his hands.

"It's nothing."

Still, Han Che found the whole thing suspicious. But Zhou Gang's illness was so bizarre that he couldn't pinpoint the cause for now.

"The chief escort didn't do anything this morning." Han Che paused, frowning. "You mentioned the Fragrant Flower Pavilion, Su Wantang—but I asked the other brothers, and some said they saw us leave with their own eyes."

Han Che lifted his head, a faint trace of bewilderment in his eyes. "But I can't remember a thing."

Han Che was one of Zhou Gang's attendants who had also entered Su Wantang's private room.

If Su Wantang erased memories through touch or combat, then the situation at the time must have been that Zhou Gang didn't take Su Wantang seriously.

He definitely wouldn't have fought her himself. Instead, he'd have treated it as a training opportunity for his escort team.

Letting Han Che spar with her a couple of rounds?

Feng Xiu's thoughts raced, but he kept his tone soothing. "It's fine. Don't overthink it."

Han Che opened his mouth, but despite the doubts churning in his mind, he had no choice but to let it go.

Not long after the crowd dispersed, a guard entered and bowed to report.

"Patriarch, Young Master, Daoist Yellow Dragon has returned."

Feng Xiu's face lit up. "Quickly, invite him in."

Moments later, Daoist Yellow Dragon entered the main hall.

He still wore that same old Daoist robe, with the little girl named Jiaojiao following behind him, holding a candied hawthorn stick and licking it with relish.

Feng Ao rose to greet him, clasping his hands. "The Daoist has arrived. Forgive me for not coming to meet you."

Daoist Yellow Dragon quickly returned the gesture. "Patriarch Feng is too kind. This old Daoist has come to take my leave."

"Take your leave? You're going?"

Daoist Yellow Dragon nodded, letting out a soft sigh. "The Sweet Dew Grand Festival cost me my foundation and cultivation. It's time I returned to Yulin Prefecture. That shabby temple may be worn, but it's still my root."

Hearing this, Feng Xiu finally noticed how pale the Daoist's face was, the exhaustion plain in his eyes.