Mother's Gift of Flesh and Blood, Father's Nurturing Body; Suicide Returns to Heaven, Repaying Nurturing Grace (Part 2)

Yu Kun glanced at Ning Zha, who was sprawled on the ground, and let out a scoff.

"Ning Jing, you certainly didn't hold back."

He took two steps forward, lightning dancing at his fingertips, his tone suddenly turning sinister.

"However, a few strikes aren't enough. You little beast, let me tell you—"

He bent down to look at Ning Zha.

"If you refuse to submit obediently, don't blame me for being impolite."

"It won't just be your branch of the Ning family, and it won't just be your parents and brothers—"

Yu Kun straightened up, his gaze sweeping over everyone present before finally landing on the street corner in the distance.

"That lowly maid who seduced my grandson yesterday? I won't let her off, either."

The crowd erupted in an uproar.

Seduced?

It was clearly his grandson who had forced himself upon her! The girl's own father had died because of it! And now, he wouldn't even spare the victim?

Someone among the onlookers cursed under their breath, but was immediately silenced by a companion covering their mouth.

No one dared to speak out.

A seven-ring Soul Saint. The Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan.

Combined, these two things were a free pass in Heaven Dou City. If you tried to reason with them, they would use their fists. If you tried to use your fists, they would reveal their seven soul rings—whose fists were bigger then?

Hadn't everyone seen that even the Heaven Dou City guards didn't dare to intervene?

Ning Zha gritted his teeth, bracing himself against the ground as he crawled up, inch by inch.

He raised his head and stared at Yu Kun.

"Old dragon monster!"

Ning Zha's voice was childish, yet it rang out with conviction.

"That girl was bullied by your grandson! Her father was killed by your grandson! Not only does your grandson refuse to pay with his life, but you want to silence the witnesses?"

"I, Ning Zha—will never stand on the same side as you!"

The seven-year-old child stood before the seven-ring Soul Saint, his spine as straight as a sword.

Yu Kun froze for a moment, then threw his head back and laughed.

"Never stand on the same side as me? Based on what? A piece of trash who couldn't even awaken a martial soul?"

He finished laughing, his eyes filled with undisguised killing intent.

"Ning Jing, I'll say this one last time. Hand him over."

Ning Jing's Adam's apple bobbed.

He looked at Ning Zha, at this youngest son who had caused him to "lose all face," and there was no heartache or hesitation in his eyes.

Only annoyance.

"You beast!"

Ning Jing rushed forward and stomped on Ning Zha's back, kicking him back down to the ground.

"Your parents raised you for seven years, yet you end up dragging the whole family down! What use are you!"

His sole ground into Ning Zha's spine as if he were crushing an obstructive stone.

"Jing-ge, stop hitting him!"

From behind the crowd, Yin Suzhi rushed out, crying and screaming. She fell to her knees and crawled toward Ning Zha to reach for his hand, but Ning Jing shoved her away violently.

"Get lost! A doting mother spoils her son! If I don't beat this troublemaker to death today, our whole family will be buried with him!"

Yin Suzhi collapsed to the ground, her hair disheveled and her face covered in tears.

Ning Jin and Ning Mu stood where they were, their faces pale, neither daring to move.

Ning Jing turned to Yu Kun and bowed deeply.

"Elder Yu Kun, this wicked son... the Ning family, we hand him over."

He paused, his voice dry.

"Do with him as you please. I only ask that you do not vent your anger on the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect."

A satisfied curve tugged at the corner of Yu Kun's mouth.

"No!"

"Jing-ge, there must be another way, right? Please, try to beg the main branch of the sect for help!" Yin Suzhi sobbed uncontrollably, clutching Ning Jing's leg and begging bitterly.

But Ning Jing remained unmoved.

Seeing this, Yin Suzhi let go in despair.

The next moment, she scrambled toward Yu Kun and slammed her head against the stone floor three times, blood seeping from her forehead.

"Elder Yu Kun! I am willing to trade my own life for my son's! I beg you to show mercy! He is only seven years old—"

Yu Kun looked down at her as if she were an ant.

"Every debt has a debtor, and every grievance has a source."

He said calmly.

"Your life alone, I'm afraid, is not enough."

Yin Suzhi shuddered, collapsing onto the ground.

Ning Zha closed his eyes.

The images of yesterday flooded back.

A flower basket overturned, petals crushed into the mud. A girl was dragged by her hair, her screams sharp and piercing. An old man with white hair threw himself forward to protect his daughter, only for a bolt of blue lightning to blast through his chest, slamming him against the wall before he slowly slid down.

That direct descendant of the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan stood beside the corpse and laughed.

He laughed with genuine joy.

Then, Ning Zha charged.

He had no martial soul, no soul power, and no soul rings.

He had only his two fists.

He beat that man until he couldn't crawl off the ground. Every punch smashed into that face that was still smiling, until the smile turned into a bloody mess. Until the arm that had grabbed the girl's hair emitted a crisp snapping sound in his hands.

He did not regret it.

Not for a single second.

Ning Zha opened his eyes.

The bluestone beneath his feet was ice-cold. His father's footprints were still imprinted on his back. His mother's weeping still echoed in his ears.

He slowly stood up.

No one helped him. He stood up on his own.

Then, he drew the sword from his waist.

The blade was not long; his mother, worried he would be bullied for having no martial soul, had saved up household silver to have a blacksmith forge it for him. It was sharpened and polished until it shone.

Yu Kun frowned slightly, then let out a scoff. What could a seven-year-old child without a martial soul do with a sword?

"Old dragon demon."

Ning Zha gripped the sword, his voice suddenly turning calm.

"I alone did this, and I alone shall bear the consequences. Do not implicate anyone else."

Yu Kun raised an eyebrow, remaining silent.

Ning Zha turned around.

He looked at the members of the Ning Clan.

Those collateral elders, uncles, and brothers all lowered their heads, avoiding his gaze. No one had spoken a word for him. No one thought he had done the right thing.

They only saw him as a disaster.

A piece of trash who couldn't even awaken a martial soul, who had crippled someone he shouldn't have touched and poked a hornet's nest he shouldn't have disturbed.

Ning Zha smiled.

The smile of a seven-year-old should have been innocent and bright. Yet, at this smile, the hearts of many present tightened inexplicably.

"Since you all think I am a disaster."

"Then from this day forward—"

"I, Ning Zha, sever all ties with your Ning Clan! We are finished!"

Suddenly, the winds and clouds shifted, and a bolt of lightning cracked across the clear sky!

The previously cloudless sky was instantly shrouded in dark clouds; gale-force winds roared, thunder rumbled, and a torrential downpour began.

Everyone was enveloped by the curtain of rain.

Ning Zha held the sword horizontally before him, rain or tears streaming down his face.

He looked at Ning Jing and Yin Suzhi.

"Father. Mother."

"Your child has brought disaster upon you."

"Today, your child—"

The blade pressed against his left arm.

"Cuts my flesh to return it to my father!"

Amidst the stunned gazes of the crowd, a spray of blood splattered.

Yin Suzhi let out a shrill, harrowing scream.

Exclamations erupted one after another from the surrounding crowd. The captain of the city guards turned his back, unable to bear the sight.

Ning Zha was drenched in blood, which flowed down to mix with the rain, forming a pool of gore on the bluestone slabs beneath his feet. His face was pale to the point of translucence, yet his hand did not tremble, and his eyes remained open.

He switched the sword to his other hand, pointing the tip toward his own chest.

"Stripping the bones to return them to my mother!"

The blade sank an inch deep.

Blood gushed forth.

Ning Zha stood in his own pool of blood. His seven-year-old body shuddered violently, but his spine remained straight.

He lifted his head and cast a glance at the sky.

He offered a miserable smile.

"From this day forth, between heaven and earth, I, Ning Zha, have no father, no mother, no clan, and no kin."

"My life belongs only to myself."