The Death of Hu Ma

Chapter 12: The Death of Hu Ma. At this moment, the entire Jiaqing County was in an uproar.

The news that Hu Ma, a hall master of the Black Wind Gang, had flown into a rage for the sake of a beauty and hacked the son of the Master of Qingsong Hall to death, spread like cold water splashed into a pot of boiling oil. Once it erupted from the Willow Pavilion, there was no stopping it.

Rumors have legs of their own. From street corners to teahouses and taverns, from peddlers to the inner courtyards of noble estates, in less than half a day, half the county was discussing the matter.

The storytellers were animated and expressive, while the listeners were left wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

In the end, they would always shake their heads and add, "That was the only heir of a Seventh-grade martial artist, and he just killed him like that? How many heads does this Hu Ma think he has?"

In the back residence of the County Yamen, the lights in the study were still burning.

County Magistrate Zhang Li had not lost his composure like this for a long time.

His chest heaved violently as he swept all the books, brushes, and inkstones off the desk in front of him. Ink splattered onto the blue-brick floor, leaving large, unsightly stains.

Broken porcelain and wood splinters littered the ground, and the maids and servants standing outside the door dared not even breathe loudly.

"Fool! A colossal fool!" Zhang Li's voice had changed pitch, sounding as if it were being squeezed out by someone gripping his throat.

"All for a woman, a woman from a brothel!"

"How could he do something so stupid! What does he think he is? A street thug? Or a bandit king occupying a mountain?"

The more he cursed, the angrier he became. He turned and pointed at his wife, Madam Wang, who stood to the side, his finger nearly poking her in the face. "And you! You were the one who insisted on finding him, babbling about how we had been separated for years and that your heart couldn't bear it. What was the point of bringing him back?"

"Look at him—does he look anything like me? He has no appearance, no character, and spends his days hanging out with a bunch of hoodlums. And now, he's really outdone himself—killing someone in public! And he killed the only son of Li Qingsong, no less!"

"Who is Li Qingsong? He is a renowned Seventh-grade martial artist in Jiaqing County, a man who fought on the frontier in his youth. Even the officials from the capital give him a measure of respect. Now that his son has died at the hands of my son, where am I supposed to hide my face?"

"Seal it off. Seal off the news with everything we have. Thankfully, we never publicly acknowledged him as my son; otherwise, the reputation of the Zhang family for eighteen generations would be completely ruined."

Madam Wang hung her head, unable to speak. Her eyes were already bloodshot, and tears welled up, eventually spilling down her cheeks as she could no longer hold them back.

Her voice was intermittent. "What other choice was there... The child was lost when he was small. Who knows how much he suffered out there, which is why his temperament grew so rough. As his parents, we already owe him, and we should be guiding him onto the right path."

"But you... you do nothing but beat and scold him. In the days he's been home, have you ever given him a kind look? His heart is bitter with nowhere to vent, which is why he poured all his feelings into that courtesan..."

"So, this is my fault now?" Zhang Li was trembling with rage. He grabbed the remaining teacup from the desk and smashed it on the floor, sending porcelain shards flying.

In the corner of the study, Zhang Xun had been standing quietly. He was three years younger than Hu Ma, with a slender build, fair features, and a demeanor that carried the composure of a noble scion.

At this moment, he stepped forward quickly, offered a freshly brewed cup of tea to Zhang Li with both hands, and urged him gently, "Father, please calm your anger. Drink some tea to soothe your nerves; don't ruin your health. My brother is just too straightforward and acted on impulse. There may still be room to maneuver..."

His words were flawless, and his tone was perfectly measured.

Yet, if anyone had looked closely, they would have seen that beneath his lowered eyelids, his pupils were churning with an uncontrollable, wild joy.

Hu Ma, oh Hu Ma, so your day has finally come.

Zhang Xun was Zhang Li's adopted son.

This status was never secure, and being an adopted son was not easy—from a young age, he had been cautious and ingratiating, struggling to gain a foothold in the Zhang family.

But the moment Hu Ma returned, he didn't have to do anything. The mere label of "biological son" had shattered Zhang Xun's decade of painstaking efforts.

Though his father claimed to dislike Hu Ma, blood was, after all, blood.

Zhang Xun knew better than anyone that if Hu Ma were allowed to stay in the Zhang household for another year or two, there would be no share of the vast family estate left for him.

Now, it was perfect. Hu Ma had been stupid enough to ruin himself. Zhang Xun didn't even have to lift a finger; he only needed to wait for this ripe fruit to fall from the branch on its own.

"You were ordered to send men to find that degenerate. Have you found any leads?" Zhang Li sipped his tea, barely managing to suppress his anger, and turned his head toward Zhang Xun.

Zhang Xun showed nothing on his face and bowed respectfully. "Father, rest assured. All the men I could send out have been dispatched. As long as my brother is still within the borders of Jiaqing County, we will certainly find him. If there are any leads, I will be the first to report them to you."

In the outskirts of Jiaqing County after nightfall, the moonlight was cold and the world was deathly silent.

Between the rice paddies ran a narrow dirt path, usually a shortcut for farmers, but at this moment, it was being trampled into mud by a panicked figure.

The figure wore a bamboo hat, and a black robe wrapped his entire body tightly, allowing him to dash through the ridges along the rice fields under the cover of night.

His footsteps grew increasingly hurried, his breathing more ragged.

Suddenly, his pace came to a sharp halt. The eyes beneath the bamboo hat stared straight ahead—on the cliff at the end of the rice paddies, a figure sat cross-legged.

The figure was not tall, perhaps even thin. He wore a plain white robe, his back straight as a rod, sitting quietly at the edge of the ridge.

Yet, it was this figure, who did not seem imposing, who sat there like a mountain pressing down upon the entire field, causing even the chirping of frogs and insects to fall silent in that instant.

"Master of Qingsong Hall—Li Qingsong." The man in the bamboo hat squeezed these words through his teeth, his voice dry.

Under the moonlight, Li Qingsong slowly opened his eyes. He was over fifty, his hair and beard already graying, his face gaunt and cold. But his eyes were startlingly bright, cold, and devoid of any warmth.

However, Hu Ma saw something else in those eyes—a calmness that bordered on deathly intent.

Run.

That was the only word left in Hu Ma's mind.

He didn't even have time to think; his body had already reacted first.

He turned, poured his True Qi into his legs, and bolted back the way he came, skimming just above the ground.

The full-force burst of an Eighth-grade martial artist was incredibly fast. The rice stalks on both sides of the path were flattened by the gale force of his movement, and mud splashed over a meter high behind him.

But as he ran, he realized something was wrong.

The scenery around him was retreating rapidly, the muddy ground beneath his feet was retreating rapidly, even the night sky above his head was retreating rapidly...

Yet, the distance between him and the white-robed figure behind him had not widened by even a fraction.

He could even feel that cold, piercing gaze still resting steadily on the back of his neck, unhurried, like a cat watching a mouse.

Then, something even stranger happened.

Hu Ma suddenly felt his perspective shifting. It wasn't the kind of spinning that turned the world upside down, but a slow, irresistible sensation of falling.

He could even clearly see a headless corpse ahead, still maintaining a running posture, taking steps forward.

The corpse wore a black robe and a bamboo hat exactly like his own.

That was his own body...

Thud!

The headless corpse finally lost its balance and collapsed into the mud.

A small yellow oil-paper parcel rolled out from the sleeve, tumbled twice in the mud, and came to a stop beside a cluster of barnyard grass.

Li Qingsong walked forward slowly.

His pace was unhurried as he bent down to pick up the head that still had its eyes wide open, removing the bamboo hat from it.

The moonlight shone on Hu Ma's ugly yet fierce face—a flat nose, a wide mouth, and a face full of coarse flesh.

"Dead at last." Li Qingsong's voice was low and hoarse, like a piece of deadwood that had been crushed repeatedly.

At the edge of the woods not far away, a slender figure stepped out slowly.

Zhang Xun stood under the tree shadows with his hands tucked into his sleeves, casting a distant glance at the headless corpse in the paddy field that was slowly growing cold, the corners of his mouth curling upward uncontrollably.

He waited and waited, restraining himself again and again, only straightening his expression when Li Qingsong walked toward him carrying the head.

"I owe you a favor." The Master of Qingsong Hall paused slightly as he passed by, his voice indifferent, devoid of gratitude or anything else.

It was as if he were merely stating a fact.

Zhang Xun bowed respectfully with his hands cupped: "Master, you are too kind. My condolences."

When he looked up, the white-clad figure had already melted into the depths of the night, leaving only the soft sound of boots treading on the field ridges, one step after another, gradually fading away.

Only then did Zhang Xun straighten his back, look at the corpse in the paddy field once more, and sigh softly.

"Brother, oh brother, you are finally dead. Finally dead." He repeated it twice; the first time as if to confirm, the second time filled with a sense of relief.

After the two men left, the paddy field returned to silence.

A moment later, a slender figure darted out from the woods again, carrying a pitch-black coffin on his back. He walked quickly to the ridge and efficiently placed Hu Ma's body and the severed head inside.

The coffin lid closed with a dull thud, and then the man hoisted the coffin onto his back and disappeared into the night in a few leaps, leaving behind only a row of shallow footprints that were quickly smoothed over by the evening breeze.

As for what happened here tonight?

Only heaven knows.

After nightfall, in a quiet little fishing village on the outskirts of Jiaqing County.

A courtyard house was dark and silent.

Lin Yi climbed over the low courtyard wall, landed on the ground, and brushed the dirt off his clothes. He looked up at the pitch-black house in front of him and muttered softly, "Could she be asleep?"

He groped his way to the door and pushed it open. No sooner had he turned to latch it behind him than a warm, fragrant, and soft body pressed against him from behind.

Two slender arms wrapped around his waist, and a pair of delicate hands began to roam over his body.

Lin Yi froze. He turned around instinctively and found himself staring directly into a pair of eyes shimmering with a pink haze.

Those eyes were startlingly bright in the darkness, the corners slightly upturned. The usual purity and gentleness had long since vanished, leaving only two pools of unmasked, overflowing desire.

Before he could even speak, his lips were sealed by a warm, soft touch.

Tsk, tsk.

Just how long had this been suppressed...

The Infatuation Path taught one not to avoid obsession, not to fear pleasure, to face all of one's desires squarely, and then to immerse oneself fully in them to experience them.

As one of the most fundamental human desires, lust was naturally something that should be faced head-on.

But Yu Qinglian was a person who cared deeply about appearances and had high standards. It wasn't that she hadn't had suitors over the years, but none had caught her eye.

This desire had been suppressed, hidden away, and ignored.

Now, her cultivation of the Infatuation Path had reached a bottleneck, yet it had always lacked this final spark.

Now that the seal was broken, the fire that had been suppressed for years ignited with the force of a prairie blaze.

After a long while, their lips parted.

Both of them were breathing heavily.

"Now..." Yu Qinglian's voice was soft and sticky, the tail end of her words drawn out lazily, "it's time to pay the price."

Before she finished speaking, she grabbed Lin Yi's lapels and pulled him onto the bed.

With a flick of her hand, she extinguished the candle, and the room plunged into a soft darkness, with only a few faint slivers of moonlight filtering through the window paper.

The bed curtains rustled down, shielding the two intertwined figures.

An hour later.

The room returned to silence, with only the occasional bark of a dog drifting in from the distance outside the window.

Yu Qinglian leaned against Lin Yi's chest, her cheeks still flushed with a lingering heat, her eyes half-closed in a hazy, satisfied daze.

Her fingertips traced circles against his chest, round and round, with idle indifference.

Lin Yi lay on his back, carefully sensing the changes within his body.

Yu Qinglian was truly worthy of her background as a Cultivation Vessel; the Primordial Yin within her was even purer than he had anticipated.

What was more, this energy was strangely compatible with the Corpse Puppet Path he practiced.

The Corpse Puppet Path belonged to the Yin, and the Primordial Yin was also of the Yin; rather than clashing, the two forces merged like two streams from the same source, nourishing and permeating one another.

He could even clearly feel the bottleneck that had trapped him for so long showing signs of loosening after this union.

However, it was clearly Yu Qinglian who had made the greater progress.

Lin Yi could distinctly perceive that the circulation of the Infatuation Path True Qi within her had become more fluid, with the previously stagnant points now largely cleared.

She had been trapped by her bottleneck for a long time, and today's encounter was like a sluice gate filled with water finally being cracked open; she was now only a thin layer of paper away from breaking through to the Eighth Rank.

Lin Yi suddenly remembered something and turned his head to ask, "Right, how did you manage to send Hu Ma away?"

He had actually been curious about this for a while—though Hu Ma was a fool, he shouldn't have been foolish enough to leave Yu Qinglian alone while they were on the run for their lives.

Yu Qinglian snuggled deeper into his embrace, finding a more comfortable position, and replied in a languid tone, "It was simple. I told him I was scared, anxious, and famished, and that I only wanted to eat the osmanthus cake from that old shop in the south of the city."

She paused, as if recalling the scene, "So he went."

Lin Yi was dumbfounded, his inner thoughts complex.

This Hu Ma was truly brave!

He was a damn true simp!

They had killed someone in public—the son of the Green Pine Martial Hall master, no less—and were wanted by the entire city.

In such a life-or-death, urgent situation, he had chosen to take such a risk just to buy pastries for a woman.

He was truly a rare talent!

His death was certainly not unjust.

One word—deserved!

Simps never die well!

"Oh, right..." Yu Qinglian seemed to suddenly remember something; she propped herself up from his chest, her demeanor becoming lively, her eyes sparkling like a child eager to claim credit.

"Before Hu Ma left, he was worried he wouldn't make it back alive, so he stuffed all his savings and the good things he'd collected over the years into my hands... there's so much silver, and some things only a Martial Artist could use."

She pulled over a heavy bundle from the head of the bed and spread it out before Lin Yi, counting the items one by one with a hint of pride in her voice.

"Look, there are silver notes, medicinal pills, Martial Way techniques, and some things I don't quite recognize... see if there's anything you can use. I have no use for them anyway, so I'll give them all to you."

Lin Yi watched as the items clattered out of the bundle—a thick stack of silver notes and at least a dozen bottles of pills—all of which were placed into his hands.

Lin Yi was speechless for a moment; at this point, even as an enemy, any lingering hatred in his heart had dissipated.