Yu Xiaogang's End

Winter comes early to Heaven Dou City.

Just as the first row of icicles hung from the eaves of the row of earthen houses in the north of the city, Yu Xiaogang had already pawned the last thing he could.

He squatted against the wall, wrapped in an old cotton-padded coat that he had dug out of a garbage dump.

His collar was worn smooth and shiny, and his cuffs were too short. Several scars remained on his exposed wrists, burns inflicted on the day the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan destroyed his Martial Soul.

There are lines, like centipedes, crawling on my skin. It gets itchy when it gets cold.

He scratched it a couple of times without controlling his strength, and it drew blood. He stared at the drop of blood on the back of his hand for a long time, but didn't wipe it away.

There was nothing left in the mud house.

The bed boards were dismantled and sold for firewood; half of the stove collapsed and was never repaired.

A pile of scattered scraps of paper remained in the corner; they were manuscripts he had collected over the first half of his life.

The fragments of "The Ten Core Competencies of Martial Soul", notes copied from the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan library, and my own annotations.

Scattered and scattered all over the ground.

Soaked in snow water and then dried, it was wrinkled like dry tree bark, and most of the writing was blurred.

The first thing he does every morning when he wakes up is to squat down and flip through these scraps of paper. He flips through them, pieces together a few complete pages, stacks them neatly, and places them next to his knees.

I went through it again the next day and typed it out again.

He pocketed the few copper coins left over from selling firewood.

He touched the edges of the few copper coins, his mind racing between buying a steamed bun or saving them to buy charcoal.

These two things were locked in a tug-of-war in his mind all morning, but in the end, he didn't get either done. The coins were still in his pocket, and his stomach was growling with hunger.

Children ran past the alley entrance, and one of them threw a stone inside.

It didn't hit him, but it hit the door frame. Small bits of dirt fell down.

The child shouted at the top of his lungs.

"A madman who steals!"

The other person laughed along, and the two ran off.

Yu Xiaogang shrugged, not looking up.

He remembered the office at the Nuoding Academy.

At that time, he was wearing a respectable robe, with a teapot in front of him, sitting in a chair explaining Martial Soul Theory to his students. Tang San stood at the door and respectfully greeted him, "Grandmaster."

At that time, he thought that this was how his life would be: to be a Soul Master Instructor for life and make a living from this theory.

Then the Nan Feng came.

The young man stood opposite him, not even sitting down, and immediately asked him what the theory was based on.

He slammed his fist on the table and said it was impossible. Nan Feng said, "Then I'll prove it to you."

At the time, he thought the kid was incredibly arrogant. Now that he thinks about it, the kid really did watch the entire game before he started making his move.

The first ring is over 900 years old, the second ring is over 2,000 years old, and the third ring is over 12,000 years old.

Slap after slap, all the way to Jialing Pass, all the way to the Soul Master Tournament, until the whole world knows that "the Grandmaster's theories were stolen."

He looked down and flipped through the pieces of paper beside his knees, pulling out a page with the words "Soul Ring Age Cannot Be Exceeded" written on it in his own handwriting from back then.

He stared at those words for a while, then laughed, a laugh that sounded worse than crying.

The Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan arrived about two weeks ago.

Three people arrived. The one in the lead wore a faded old family robe with a short knife at his waist. He entered the earthen house and said only one sentence.

"My family sent me to collect these things."

He handed over the last few pages of the manuscript he had copied from the Blue Lightning Clan. The other person took it, flipped through it, glanced at the old cotton-padded jacket he was wearing, said nothing, and turned to leave.

He paused at the alley entrance and whispered something to the person who came with him. Yu Xiaogang didn't hear it, nor did he want to.

Two days later, the family came again. This time, it was Trash Martial Soul.

The two young men pinned him against the wall, and the one in the lead struck him on the dantian (lower abdomen).

Luo Sanpao's Martial Soul was already weak, and it shattered completely with a crisp sound.

He collapsed to the ground, gushing black blood from his mouth. His ears were ringing, and he could only hear one sentence.

"The family asked me to pass on a message: what you stole, the family has taken back. Your debts are settled today."

He never left the northern part of the city again after that.

His stomach growled again. Yu Xiaogang leaned against the wall and stood up, intending to go to the alley entrance to buy a steamed bun.

He clutched the copper coin in his hand, took two steps toward the alley entrance, and then stopped.

Old Zhou who sells steamed buns at the alley entrance, chased him away a few days ago, saying, "Thieves, don't come near my stall."

He stepped back, leaned against the doorframe, and carefully put the coins away again.

Footsteps came from the alley entrance, unhurried, the soles of boots clicking on the snow.

Yu Xiaogang didn't pay attention. Occasionally someone would pass by in this alley, but most of them would take a detour.

The footsteps stopped at the door of the earthen house.

He looked up and saw Liu Erlong standing at the door.

Liu Erlong was wearing a thick, crimson cotton robe, holding an oil paper package in her arms, her hair slightly disheveled in the wind.

She just stared at him, her face expressionless.

Neither of them spoke.

Liu Erlong heard the news three days ago.

She was drinking in a pub when people at the next table started chatting.

It's said that the Grandmaster who stole things in the north of the city ruined the Blue Lightning Clan's Martial Soul, and now he's squatting in an earthen house, unable to even get a meal.

After hearing this, she put down her glass, left without paying, but turned back halfway to pay for the drinks. Then she stayed at her place for two days.

This morning I stewed a pot of meat, wrapped it in oil paper, and headed north of the city.

When she reached the alley entrance, she smelled that aroma— Old Zhou's steamed bun stall.

She went around to the back and saw Yu Xiaogang leaning against the door frame. His old cotton-padded jacket was too short, and his exposed wrists were as thin as sticks.

Her cheekbones were prominent, and her eye sockets were sunken. Only her eyes still shone, but they looked different from before.

Before, Liang was the kind of Liang who thought she knew everything. Now Liang is the kind of Liang—she can't find the right word—that doesn't seem like the kind of Liang a living person should have.

She placed the oil paper package on the threshold and didn't go inside.

"Erlong."

Yu Xiaogang spoke first, his voice terribly hoarse.

Liu Erlong didn't answer. She stood at the door, looked down at the pile of scraps of paper in the corner, and then looked at him.

She suddenly remembered the small courtyard behind the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan library many years ago.

He had just stolen the family's manuscripts and excitedly ran to her, saying, "Erlong, look how useful these things are! Let's study them together in the future."

She believed it then, and she believed it for many years.

What you steal, you will eventually have to pay back.

She spoke, her voice soft and flat, simply stating a matter.

"I was there the day your family destroyed your Martial Soul, but I didn't go in. I'm bringing you a meal today, but I still won't go in."

Yu Xiaogang looked at her, his lips moving slightly.

Liu Erlong pushed the oil paper package forward again and placed it right in the middle of the threshold.

"The meat was stewed this morning, eat it while it's hot. I won't be coming again."

She turned and walked away, but stopped after taking two steps without looking back.

"That kid Nan Feng told me back in Sunset Forest that your theory was stolen, but I didn't believe him at the time."

"Later, Bibi Dong repeated these words in front of tens of thousands of people at Jialing Pass, and I believed her."

Yu Xiaogang leaned against the door frame, watching her figure disappear into the snow at the alley entrance.

"Erlong."

He called out again.

Liu Erlong stopped, but still didn't turn around.

"There's one thing I can't let go of before I die." His voice came from behind, as soft as snowflakes falling to the ground.

"My theory... is there even a single page that I wrote myself?"

Liu Erlong stood in the snow in silence for a long time.

"Whether it's there or not, just look through that pile of scraps of paper and you'll know."

She walked away without looking back, her crimson figure disappearing around the corner of the alley.

Yu Xiaogang sat down on the threshold and opened the oil paper package. The meat was still warm.

He picked up a piece and ate it, chewing very slowly, as if he were chewing something else.

After finishing his meal, he went back inside, squatted down, and began to turn over the pile of scraps of paper one by one.

He turned the pages until dark, and then the snow started falling again outside the window. He pulled a page from a pile of shredded paper.

Among the dense annotations above, there was a line of small characters, the ink a bit darker than the surrounding text. He recognized it; it was written by him when he was young, not copied from the Blue Lightning Clan.

The text read, "If Soul Power is compressed to its limit, it may be possible to attempt absorption beyond the age limit, but the risk is extremely high, requiring the assistance of an extremely powerful suppressive force."

He stared at the words for a long time, then smiled. This time, the smile was more relaxed than before.

He folded the paper and tucked it into the innermost layer of his old cotton-padded jacket, close to his chest.

Then he gathered the remaining scraps of paper, put them in a broken earthenware pot he found under the stove, and placed it on the threshold.

The snow outside was falling heavier and heavier, and a thick layer had already accumulated in the alley.

He leaned against the doorframe, watching the snow cover Old Zhou's steamed bun stall at the alley entrance with white, and the row of dark windows across the street with white.

The glazed tile roof of the Heaven Dou City Imperial Palace in the distance has also been covered in white.

The snow fell for three days in Heaven Dou City.

On the morning of the third day, when Old Zhou set up his stall, he found a pile of neatly stacked paper scraps in a broken earthenware pot at the entrance of the alley in the north of the city.

There was a stone on top of it.

Two characters were carved on the stone.

"Burn it."

Old Zhou was illiterate, so he called over a passing Soul Master to take a look. The Soul Master flipped through the scraps of paper, which mostly contained outdated Soul Master theories.

Inserted in the middle was a handwritten note, the handwriting neat and legible, which stated, "Soul Power compressed to its limit may be able to be absorbed beyond the time limit."

The Soul Master shook his head after reading it, stuffed the entire stack of papers into the furnace and burned them, keeping only that one page, which he then put in his pocket and left.

A half-eaten steamed bun sat frozen solid on the threshold of the earthen house.

Nan Feng learned of this in the Far North.

Shifang descended from the sky, without even setting up the grill, and his face became unusually serious for once.

"Brother Nan, news has come from Heaven Dou City: Yu Xiaogang is gone."

Nan Feng was squatting at the entrance of the Ice Valley, dispelling the Abyss's erosion for the Ice Empress. He paused for a moment, then continued to pour his Immortal Power into the ice.

How did it disappear?

"Frozen to death," Shifang said in a low voice.

"Liu Erlong delivered a meal once, but never again. Old Zhou said that the snow was so heavy those days that the mud houses didn't even have doors; it wouldn't be surprising if people froze to death."

After pouring in the last of his Immortal Power, Nan Feng stood up, dusted off the ice shards on his hands, and glanced at the southern horizon.

Ice Empress stood to the side with her arms crossed, unusually calm, just standing there. Snow Empress handed her a cup of hot tea, Nan Feng took and drank a sip.

"He's returned everything he stole," Nan Feng said. "And he's gone too, so let's leave it at that."

Old Huai remained silent in the tower for a long while before finally uttering a muffled sentence.

"He realized something before he died. One page of his entire body of theories was written by himself. Just one page."

Even a page is something.

The Nan Feng put down the teacup.

"Let's go, the Far North rift is only one section left to be sealed."

He strode deeper into the Ice Valley. The old hairband woven by Xiao Wu and the fairy vine hairband woven by Bibi Dong on his left wrist fluttered in the Far North wind.