Chapter Eighty-Five: Another Gift of a Secret Manual

Chapter Eighty-Five: Another Gift of a Secret Manual

The voice from outside the Flower Pavilion was powerful beyond measure, clearly belonging to a master. Yet Wu Hong felt no fear toward any such master; unless a thousand, even ten thousand experts gathered, he would not be threatened. Throughout the martial world, to find ten thousand bone-refining experts would be impressive, and those who had achieved the pinnacle of postnatal cultivation numbered only a few hundred. That was why Wu Hong strode so confidently into the imperial capital.

With the voice, the man arrived. Soon, a commanding general entered through the inn’s door. He was broad and tall, with a thick beard covering his cheeks and eyes wide and round—an imposing figure. Seeing Wu Hong standing in the inn, he hesitated, “Are you the scoundrel who killed the Marquis of Martial Might—Wu Hong?”

Without concern, the man pointed at Wu Hong, though uncertainty lingered in his tone. The rumors said Wu Hong’s appearance had changed dramatically, but he hadn’t expected it to be so drastic. This man was none other than the Minister of War, Xiao Fei’s father.

Wu Hong’s expression darkened. The karma he had entangled himself with was overwhelming; enemies kept arriving, one after another, and most of them sought vengeance for deeds he had not committed himself. Nevertheless, the burden was his to bear.

He felt a premonition: if he did not overcome or resolve these karmic entanglements, his cultivation would ultimately suffer.

“Uncle Xiao—it is indeed me,” Wu Hong replied, bowing respectfully. Even when the Marquis of Martial Might was alive, Xiao Hongfei had been his elder; with his own father missing, Wu Hong had no choice but to show proper deference.

“Good! Good! Good! The Marquis of Martial Might was a hero. Who would have thought he’d have a rebellious son like you? What misfortune!” Xiao Hongfei had known the Marquis in their youth, and from another perspective, had even served under him. His words carried a hint of lament for the Marquis.

Xiao Hongfei was a man of good character. When the Marquis lived, their relationship was cordial, despite Xiao Hongfei’s service to Emperor Yang Guang; privately, they got along well.

Wu Hong’s voice cut through the air, threadlike and clear in Xiao Hongfei’s ear, “Uncle Xiao, you must have heard the rumors of the Old Man of Ten Thousand Poisons advancing to innate cultivation. My father was not killed by me; nor was your son harmed by me—the true culprit is someone else.”

At Wu Hong’s words, Xiao Hongfei’s body visibly trembled. “Wu Hong, today you will not escape!”

“Uncle Xiao, I have not returned to surrender myself, but to reveal the truth! Forgive me for any offense,” Wu Hong said, bowing again.

At once, golden true energy radiated from Wu Hong’s body. The tables and chairs in the Flower Pavilion clattered, and some weaker patrons fell to the ground with a thud, their bodies collapsing in succession.

The Minister of Rites stumbled, nearly falling.

“Brother Xiao, apprehend this madman quickly!” the Minister of Rites demanded, his voice fierce.

“Everyone, it is best to withdraw for now! Wu Hong is exceptionally powerful—if anyone is hurt, it would be unfortunate,” Xiao Hongfei said, squinting.

Immediately, fear swept across the patrons. They fled the inn, most of them officials, young scholars, or sons of wealthy families. Wu Hong’s reputation preceded him, and those usually lofty figures now lowered their heads and hurried out at Xiao Hongfei’s urging.

When the last had fled, only Wu Hong, Xiao Hongfei, the Minister of Rites, and Li Ruolan remained.

“Lord Wang, I intend to apprehend Wu Hong; as a civil officer, you’d best leave as well,” Xiao Hongfei said.

The Minister of Rites hated Wu Hong to the core, wishing to tear him apart. Although he and Xiao Hongfei rarely saw eye to eye, the latter spoke the truth—should Wu Hong turn against him, he would be doomed.

“Hmph—Wu Hong, evil will always meet its match. Don’t be so pleased with yourself,” the Minister of Rites spat, dragging Xiao Hongfei into his contempt as well.

No one paid him any mind; he strode out of the Flower Pavilion.

Once he was gone, calm settled over the inn. Xiao Hongfei was silent for a long time before asking, “Wu Hong, I have only one question—was my son’s injury your doing?”

Wu Hong felt a pang of guilt, unsure how to answer. To say it had nothing to do with him would be false, for the harm was carried out by Li Ruolan’s subordinate in his name. To admit responsibility was also not quite true, as he hadn’t known of the matter beforehand.

After some thought, Wu Hong answered evasively, “Uncle Xiao, your son’s injury is indeed somewhat related to me, but it was not my doing. I didn’t know it would happen. The reasons I cannot explain, but you needn’t be so troubled.”

With a sharp sound, a book materialized in Wu Hong’s hand, which he tossed to Xiao Hongfei.

Xiao Hongfei saw Wu Hong’s lightning-fast movement and thought it an attack, trying to dodge. Yet the flash enveloped him, locking his energy—he couldn’t move at all.

He was stunned. Though Xiao Hongfei hadn’t reached the pinnacle of postnatal cultivation, he was a mid-stage bone-refining master. To be so thoroughly restrained by Wu Hong’s aura was shocking.

He felt as if his entire body were controlled, his hands involuntarily catching the flying object.

Xiao Hongfei’s face turned pale, sweat soaking his armor. If Wu Hong intended harm to his son or himself, he would have died instantly.

His mind finally cleared. He had heard Wu Hong was in the capital, and in anger had brought nearly ten thousand personal guards to apprehend him, despite his wives’ repeated pleas. Now he realized how reckless he’d been. He had doubted the rumors, but seeing Wu Hong in person, he understood they were understated—Wu Hong was even fiercer than the tales.

Xiao Hongfei glanced at the book in his hand, pupils contracting, “The Innate Wood Spirit Technique—what is this?!”

He was astonished. Wu Hong had given him an innate manual? Xiao Hongfei could hardly believe it.

The value of an innate manual! In the past, perhaps it would not have meant so much, for the threshold to practice an innate manual was daunting, requiring the pinnacle of postnatal cultivation. But since the rumors of the Old Man of Ten Thousand Poisons and Emperor Yang Guang advancing to innate, anything related to innate cultivation became precious beyond measure.

Innate was not only the highest martial realm, but also the limit of human life; it was said that those who achieved innate could live up to five hundred years.

“Uncle, this innate manual can be cultivated at any level. I believe it will be useful to your son,” Wu Hong said, dropping a bombshell: the manual had no cultivation restrictions.

Xiao Hongfei trembled, unable to believe it. “What did you say?”

He quickly opened the book, reading from the first page. At the bone-refining stage, a person’s mind is further developed, reaching near-perfect recall.

Page after page, Xiao Hongfei read with the seriousness of a diligent student, the excitement of someone reading a beloved comic; the deeper he read, the more shocked he became. The martial principles and meridian techniques described were far more ingenious than contemporary methods.

Wu Hong’s credibility grew in Xiao Hongfei’s mind, and excitement stirred within him. Though Xiao Fei was his eldest, he had many sons; what did innate signify? Not immortality, but if innate was possible, might the legends of immortals be true?

Compared to immortality, worldly grudges and affairs seemed trivial.

“You just hand me this book and claim it’s an innate manual—do you take me for a fool?” Xiao Hongfei, still angry at Wu Hong, nevertheless spoke with less bitterness than before.

“Uncle, you have no reason not to believe me. Think—was I not a useless boy before? Yet in a few short years I have risen so far. Has anyone else in the martial world achieved such a feat?”

“Besides, Uncle Xiao, the Innate Wood Spirit Technique is crucial for your son’s chance to restore his limb. Please, consider it carefully.”

Wu Hong’s few words stunned everyone present.

Wu Song, too, found resolution to his doubts. “So my brother had another fortuitous encounter and obtained an innate manual that can be cultivated without regard to rank. No wonder! No wonder!”

Li Ruolan showed no reaction; even if Wu Hong had been an ordinary man, his innate temperament would have captivated her.

As for Xiao Hongfei, each word Wu Hong spoke stabbed at his heart, nearly halting its beat. He stood there, dazed, all his earlier bluster gone.

After a long pause, he finally recovered, his mouth dry, and said, “I think we ought to sit down and have a proper talk.”