Su Jinhui took a deep breath and finally pulled out the tobacco pipe from his chest, lighting it before leisurely taking a slow drag.
Su Muyu still held the paper umbrella, his expression calm as he waited patiently.
After a long while, Su Jinhui finally looked at Su Muyu and asked, "What are your conditions?"
"The Head, Uncle Zhe, and I will leave Dark River and return to Homeland. We need you, Old Master, to issue a decree from the Soul Extraction Hall," Su Muyu said slowly.
"Homeland?" Su Jinhui narrowed his eyes slightly. "Do you truly believe that place exists?"
"If willing, The Head can draw the sword," Su Muyu didn’t answer Su Jinhui’s question but instead gestured lightly toward the Sleeping Dragon Sword before them. "Draw the sword and inherit the position of The Head!"
Su Jinhui set down his pipe and stood up.
Su Muqiu glanced at Su Jinhui and said gravely, "Patriarch, now is not the best time to wield the Sleeping Dragon Sword."
"Indeed, The Head is testing me. After all, merely grasping the sword isn’t enough—one must also walk out of Nine Heavens City alive while holding it." A trace of ruthlessness flashed in Su Jinhui’s eyes. "But when is there ever a ‘best time’? Such opportunities are fleeting. So, the moment you seize it is the best time." With a light step, Su Jinhui leaped forward and stood before Su Muyu.
Inside the inner hall, Su Changhe smiled faintly and slowly unwrapped the bandages from his wrist.
"The Sleeping Dragon Sword—I’ll take it!" Su Jinhui extended his right hand to grasp the sword.
Su Muyu tactfully took a step back.
Just then, a loud shout came from outside the courtyard: "Hold it!" Everyone turned to see a black coffin flying in from beyond the courtyard, spinning midair before landing heavily on the ground. Two white-clad men from the Mu Family landed afterward, each holding a sword. With a synchronized strike, they severed the iron chains binding the coffin.
"What is this?!" Su Muqiu, usually unflappable, exclaimed in shock.
"Damn it!" The coffin lid was kicked open, and a man in red official robes stepped out. The two Mu swordsmen exchanged a glance before sheathing their swords and retreating to the courtyard wall. Su Muyu focused on the red-robed man—dressed in crimson robes, an official’s hat, a crane spreading its wings embroidered on his chest, a jade belt around his waist, and court boots on his feet. Aside from his handsome face, devoid of the fierce beard and glaring eyes typical of depictions, he looked exactly like the King of Hell from New Year paintings.
"Nearly suffocated me! Where’s Mu Zi Zhe? Get out here!" the red-robed man roared.
"Who dares cause trouble in the Su Family’s territory?" Su Ze drew his sword and charged out. Earlier, Su Muyu had defeated him without even using a sword, leaving him seething with frustration. Now, the Mu Family’s intrusion had pushed him over the edge. His blade tore through the curtain of rain, slashing directly at the red-robed man’s head.
"What a big bald head!" the red-robed man remarked. "Just like a marinated egg!" He raised his hand and caught Su Ze’s sword with a single palm, then gave a light push—sending the blade’s tip flying straight toward Su Jinhui in the hall. Su Muqiu stepped forward, shielding Su Jinhui, and struck the broken sword aside with his own blade. "Has the Mu Family gone mad, unleashing this monster?"
Su Muyu frowned slightly and asked quietly, "Who is this man?""Mu Ciling of the Mu Family once stole the manual of the Yama Palm from The Head and practiced it in secret, only to end up turning himself into something neither human nor ghost. This caused quite a stir in the Mu Family. However, we hadn't undergone the Surname Conferral Ceremony at the time, so we were unaware. Before we joined the Su Family, he was already imprisoned by the Mu Family." Su Changhe emerged from the inner hall, walking over to Su Muyu's side as he spoke in a low, eerie tone.
"Yama Palm?" Su Muyu was taken aback. This was a unique martial art that only the Dark River Grand Master was permitted to practice. Yet, it was an extremely sinister technique, often preserved merely as a ceremonial tradition—like the current Grand Master, who had never practiced it.
"Look at his palms. The red aura swirling around the edges indicates he’s mastered at least eighty percent of the Yama Palm. His strength might even surpass that of the three family heads." Su Changhe placed a hand on Su Muyu’s shoulder and whispered, "Don’t be a fool. He’s not here for you. Why stick your neck out now?"
Su Muyu turned to glance at Su Changhe. "You’re injured?"
Su Changhe smirked. "I fought Mu Zizhe, the head of the Mu Family, to a draw."
As the two conversed quietly, the Su Family members in the hall paid them no mind, their attention fixed on Mu Ciling in the courtyard. Su Ze, in particular, stared blankly at the broken sword in his hand.
He had always prided himself on being equal to Su Muyu in swordsmanship among the younger generation of the Su Family. Yet today, he had been defeated in a single move—twice.
"Bald Egg, you looking to die?" Mu Ciling’s gaze settled on Su Ze, the tassels on his hat trembling slightly.
Su Ze swallowed nervously, unsure how to respond.
"The family head has declared that if you kill Su Jinhui of the Su Family this time, you will be granted freedom. Anywhere under heaven, except Dark River, will be open to you," a Mu Family disciple standing atop the courtyard wall announced.
"What kind of trash is Mu Zizhe to dare order me around?" Mu Ciling flicked his wrist and yanked sharply, pulling the Mu disciple down from the wall from a distance of ten zhang. With another palm strike, he shattered the man’s chest into pulp. Blood sprayed, splattering across Su Ze’s face.
Everyone in the courtyard had survived countless life-and-death battles and witnessed all manner of killing techniques. But none had ever seen someone from their own family murdered so brutally and directly. Most of them were pondering the same question:
If that move had been directed at them, could they have dodged it?
"Mu Ciling, aren’t you afraid of the Heart-Piercing Gu?!" Another Mu disciple, legs trembling slightly, mustered the courage to shout.
"Here we go again." Mu Ciling dug a finger into his ear. "If I win, you’ll remove the Gu? That the deal?"
"The family head’s own words!" the disciple replied.
"Mu Zizhe might be a piece of trash, but I’ll take him at his word this once. Who am I supposed to kill again?" Mu Ciling pulled out a red booklet from his robes.
"Su Jinhui, head of the Su Family," the disciple declared loudly.
"Lower your voice, lower your voice." Mu Ciling crouched, dipping a finger into the blood on the ground. "What was that kid’s name again?"
"Mu Tianlin," the disciple answered."Sounds like a name that's meant to die the moment it appears," Mu Ci Ling wrote down the three characters in his notebook, then turned to Su Ze. "What's your name?"
Su Ze was completely stunned by now and answered reflexively, "Su Ze."
"Like the marsh between mountains and rivers?" Mu Ci Ling asked.
Su Ze nodded, but once his head dipped, it never rose again—instead, it flew right off his body.
Without even glancing at the flying head, Mu Ci Ling continued writing in his notebook: "Another name that's meant to die the moment it appears." After jotting down both names, he looked up and surveyed the room.
"Su Jinhui is different—that name sounds hard to kill!"
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