Murong Fu sat down across from Mr. Congbian. No one else objected; they, too, wanted to see what was so extraordinary about this Exquisite Chess Puzzle.
Only by studying it more could they solve it.
After only a few moves, the normally supremely confident Murong Fu's eyes went blank.
He held a stone between his fingers, trembling slightly, unable to put it down.
His eyes grew somewhat fierce and bewildered.
The onlookers wore different expressions. Ding Chunqiu looked gleeful at his misfortune, while Jiumozhi wore a strange expression, seemingly lost in thought.
Those like Xuzhu, who knew nothing about Go, were completely at sea, watching through clouds and fog.
Wanwan suddenly said, "You haven't even secured the edges and corners, yet you dream of contending for the Central Plains?"
"Southern Murong of Gusu-quite a resounding name. A pity each generation falls short of the last. Even if you died, you'd have no face to meet your ancestors beneath the Nine Springs."
"If I were you, I'd kill myself. At least that would be a fitting end for a hero of the jianghu. Why not kill yourself? Kill yourself."
Her voice was soft and pleasing, winding its way into their ears. Many whose cultivation was still shallow felt their minds grow hazy.
Murong Fu, who bore the brunt of it, broke into a sweat and could not help murmuring along, "Since I cannot contend for the Central Plains and have failed my ancestors, I might as well kill myself."
As he spoke, he raised his palm, preparing to strike his own forehead.
Beside him, Deng Baichuan suddenly unleashed his supreme art, Shattering-Heaven-and-Astonishing-Earth, and roared, "Young master, stop!"
The shout contained all his true qi. It startled Murong Fu so badly that the stone fell from his fingers, and he came back