At the break of dawn, the four hurried back to the Hall of Sharp Virtue. The people there had already quietly retreated to a secluded cave on Good Cloud Mountain after dinner the previous night. Midway, Tang Lici turned directly toward the cave where everyone was hiding. Seeing them return safely, several maids burst into tears of joy. The group then reunited and returned to the Hall of Sharp Virtue together.
The mountain path was eerily calm—no corpses strewn about, no chaotic footprints, torn clothing, or discarded weapons. Shao Yanping sighed in relief. It seemed no fierce conflict had occurred, and those women in red and white robes had likely withdrawn. Neither Shangguan Fei nor Dong Hubi had been encountered either. Chi Yun, agitated by Shen Langhun’s abduction of Liu Yan, suddenly shot a sidelong glance at Tang Lici. The closer they got to the Hall of Sharp Virtue without any signs of struggle, the more Tang Lici’s brow furrowed with gloom. Though he had still worn a faint smile when Shen Langhun left, by the time they reached the hall, not a trace of it remained. While not exactly consumed by worry, Tang Lici seemed unusually preoccupied—a rare sight for Chi Yun.
What’s that white-haired fox thinking? Chi Yun wondered as he sprinted, a question he’d never considered before suddenly surfacing in his mind. Like he’s carrying the weight of the world! Damn it! Is life really that hard? Just kill gods if they block you, slay ghosts if they stand in your way—deal with problems as they come. What’s with all the brooding? Showing off how clever he is, thinking of things no one else can?
Or—did he actually have some thorny dilemma? No way! A single problem wouldn’t stump someone like that white-haired fox. How many, then? Eight? Ten? Twenty? Just as Chi Yun was tallying how many it would take to put that expression on Tang Lici’s face, Tang Lici turned his head and gave him a faint smile.
Tch! This bastard’s still messing with me! Chi Yun flew into a rage, but before he could lash out, the group halted—the Hall of Sharp Virtue was already in sight.
The hall was deathly silent, yet even Shao Yanping had never seen it so crowded. Not a single one of the white- and red-robed women brought by the Dissolute Shop had left. They had all been immobilized at their acupoints and bound with ropes. Dong Hubi stood at the entrance, and behind him was a figure clad in black with long hair and a sword at his waist—Puzhu Shangshi. Behind Puzhu stood a slender woman in peach-colored robes, her face veiled with a light gauze.
As Tang Lici and the others arrived, Puzhu took two steps forward. "All one hundred thirty-eight Red and White-Clothed Servants of the Dissolute Shop are here."
Shao Yanping beamed. "Haha! As expected of Puzhu—truly extraordinary. The Dissolute Shop left these one hundred thirty-eight servants, thinking they were more than enough to deal with the Hall of Sharp Virtue. Little did they know the Shangshi would come from afar and become our unexpected reinforcement."
Puzhu pressed his palms together, his expression still cold, eyes slightly closed. "It was the benefactress Tao who informed me of the Dissolute Shop’s impending attack on Good Cloud Mountain. I also happened to receive an invitation from the Sword Association. By the time I arrived, the battle was already fierce. This is not my achievement."
Shao Yanping’s gaze shifted to the veiled woman in peach robes behind Puzhu, curiosity surging tenfold. "Miss, you are—?"The peach-clad woman raised her hand and lifted the white veil, offering Tang Lici a faint smile. "Young Master Tang, it's been a while. How have you been?" Beneath the veil was a face of delicate beauty, radiant and soft, causing everyone present to feel an inexplicable sense of delight and comfort. She was a peerlessly charming young woman—none other than Xifang Tao, the "Western Palace Mistress" of the Dissolute Shop. Chi Yun stared at the woman who had now revealed her true appearance. "You—" He truly couldn’t fathom why this Xifang Tao looked exactly like "One Peach Three Colors" from the "Seven Cloud Traveling Guests." But this was undeniably a peerlessly beautiful woman, while "One Peach Three Colors" had been a man.
Tang Lici returned her smile. "Peach Girl, it has indeed been too long. I am well. Master Shao," he gestured with his sleeve, "this is the heroine of the 'Seven Cloud Traveling Guests,' 'One Peach Three Colors,' and also once one of the Eastern and Western Palace Mistresses of the Dissolute Shop—Miss Xifang Tao."
At Tang Lici’s words, Chi Yun was filled with confusion, scrutinizing Xifang Tao up and down. Was the person he had fought on the boat in Ningjiang over two years ago really this delicate woman before him? He prided himself on being hot-tempered, but not so much that he couldn’t distinguish between a man and a woman. Yet, this woman’s features were indeed identical to that person’s, except the "One Peach Three Colors" of back then had been far less beautiful. Shao Yanping, too, was deeply puzzled. How could "One Peach Three Colors" also be the "Western Palace Mistress" of the Dissolute Shop? The name "Xifang Tao" was clearly one she had chosen for herself. This woman’s origins were peculiar—she had arrived with Puzhu, and the two seemed to share a deep connection. Had Puzhu Heshang, aside from breaking the precepts against killing and drinking, also abandoned the vow of celibacy?
Amidst the bewildered and astonished gazes of the crowd, Xifang Tao remained utterly composed, her lovely cherry lips curled in a faint smile, her bright eyes fixed solely on Tang Lici. That tender, boundless smile was undoubtedly meant for him alone. Tang Lici’s lips quirked slightly, his expression hovering between amusement and serenity as he lifted his sleeve. Shao Yanping promptly laughed heartily. "So it’s Peach Girl! My apologies for the lack of courtesy earlier. Please, come inside for a detailed discussion." The crowd immediately surged through the door, chattering noisily about the day’s battle.
The white-furred fox was deeply preoccupied. Chi Yun, unusually quiet now, stared unblinkingly at Tang Lici’s retreating figure. How strange—was the capture of the Red and White-Clothed Servants, Puzhu Shangshi’s arrival with that peculiar Xifang Tao on Good Cloud Mountain, even more troublesome than the Dissolute Shop’s night raid on the Central Plains Sword Association? The white-furred fox had been tracking Puzhu’s movements all along—but why? Puzhu could never be one of the Dissolute Shop’s people.
She had come with Puzhu—so the masked man who had abducted Xifang Tao on the night of the Flower Queen Contest at the Vermillion Black Tortoise Stage back then had indeed been Puzhu Shangshi. The corners of Tang Lici’s lips curved even higher as he smiled at Xifang Tao. The peach-clad woman returned his smile gracefully, walking behind Puzhu like a delicate, clinging bird. Ahead of her, Puzhu’s expression was stern and composed, his steps steady, his brow still bearing the dual aura of killing intent and Buddhist serenity—utterly devoid of any trace of lingering desire.
The mountain wind was biting, and before the first light of dawn, the night was exceptionally dark.Shen Langhun carried Liu Yan deep into the mountain forest. After meandering for a long while, he confirmed there were no pursuers, and the two settled on a large tree with dense foliage. Quickly and skillfully, he fashioned a crude shelter from branches—a tree nest resembling a room—in no more time than it took to eat a meal. The thick leaves of the tree concealed the shelter, making it nearly impossible to detect from below.
Then he unsealed Liu Yan’s mute acupoint and tore a thorny vine from the tree, winding it tightly around Liu Yan’s body. The thorns dug deep into his skin, yet Liu Yan remained silent, his cold gaze fixed on Shen Langhun. Shen Langhun returned the stare, his usually composed eyes now devoid of emotion, flickering with an eerie, ghostly light. By the time Shen Langhun finished binding him, Liu Yan had lost half his body’s blood, though the dark clothing hid the crimson trails winding around the thorns.
After a long silence, Shen Langhun sat down opposite him, pulled a hard bun from his robe, and took a slow bite. “Do you still remember who I am?” he asked. In the darkness, the red serpent mark on his cheek was invisible. Liu Yan replied indifferently, “I didn’t gouge out your eyes back then. Shouldn’t you be grateful?” He actually remembered Shen Langhun. Shen Langhun sneered, “Grateful? Oh, I am. So rest assured—you won’t die quickly in my hands.” Liu Yan’s willow-like eyes flickered slightly. “Death… isn’t much different from living.” Shen Langhun remarked coolly, “Who’d have thought a bloodthirsty, heartless madman like you would find life worse than death.” Liu Yan retorted, “There’s plenty you don’t know about this world.” Shen Langhun reached into his robe and produced a hairpin, its pearl emitting a faint glow in the night. “A scoundrel like you, treating lives as toys and luring young women to ruin—you deserve to be killed with a single stroke. But you’ve slaughtered countless people, ruined countless women… letting you die so easily would be far too merciful.” He added dryly, “Hah, for someone like me to play the executioner of evil—how ironic fate can be.” Liu Yan closed his eyes and said nothing.
Shen Langhun extended his arm, driving the hairpin deep into Liu Yan’s cheek. Liu Yan shuddered slightly but made no sound. Slowly, Shen Langhun traced the pin along the contours of Liu Yan’s face, blood dripping steadily onto the tree. Time passed in silence—over an hour—until rivulets of blood snaked down the trunk. Shen Langhun’s eyes gleamed brighter in the dark as the sickening sound of flesh being carved continued. Suddenly, he remarked, “You endure pain well.” Liu Yan replied flatly, “Likewise.” The hairpin continued its work, leaving Liu Yan’s face a horrifying mask of blood, yet their conversation remained eerily calm. Eventually, Shen Langhun peeled away a layer from Liu Yan’s face, examining the mangled flesh beneath. “Heh… I wonder what Tang Lici would think if he knew I’d skinned your face…” Liu Yan said tonelessly, “He wouldn’t care.” Shen Langhun carefully placed the peeled skin into a pouch he carried, then retrieved trauma medicine from his robe and applied it meticulously to Liu Yan’s wounds.That strikingly handsome and bewitching face, which had captivated countless women, instantly turned into something utterly horrifying. Liu Yan didn't close his eyes, nor did he show much hatred toward Shen Langhun's inhuman actions. As Shen Langhun applied medicine to his hands, he asked, "You don't hate me?" Liu Yan's face was covered in wounds, and blood continuously seeped from the corners of his mouth when he moved his lips. Yet he still managed a faint smile. "I killed your wife."
Shen Langhun slowly exhaled a long breath. "Don't worry, I won’t let you die. I’ll peel off your face to make a human-skin mask, cripple your martial arts, break both your legs, and then let you go." His tone remained indifferent. "I want to see how you’ll swindle people with that face in the future. Maybe one day, you’ll have to wear your own skin mask just for a scrap of leftover food. And one day… the person who pities you enough to feed you will discover the true face beneath that mask… Hah, rest assured—if you ever meet a tender-hearted woman who doesn’t scorn your hideous appearance, I’ll kill every single one of them."
Shen Langhun’s voice was cold, but his words carried bone-deep venom. He must have planned this meticulously for a long time, and now he was executing it step by step on Liu Yan. He wouldn’t let Liu Yan die—he would make him suffer a fate far worse than death, a life so agonizing it would be meaningless. Shen Langhun lived only for revenge. After capturing Liu Yan, nothing else mattered—not the Martial Arts World, not the realm, not the people, not justice, not friends, not the greater scheme of things.
All he wanted was for the man who had senselessly taken his wife’s life to live in hell—to exist like a stray dog, unable to die yet worse off than the dead.
But Liu Yan showed no fear, no horror, no hysteria. He listened, almost as if he didn’t care. His face, once capable of driving countless women to madness, was now destroyed by Shen Langhun, reduced to a bloody ruin. Yet he didn’t seem to feel any pain. Shen Langhun moved swiftly—with two sharp cracks , he crushed the bones in Liu Yan’s legs. His fingers carried immense force, shattering the bones into fragments rather than simply breaking them. This was an injury that could never heal. Liu Yan shuddered slightly but didn’t make a sound, enduring it silently. Then, Shen Langhun pierced his dantian, dispersing the profound and sinister martial arts Liu Yan had cultivated.
Still, Liu Yan said nothing. He held no hatred for Shen Langhun—not even hostility. Shen Langhun sat calmly across from him. After a while, the bleeding on Liu Yan’s face slowed, but ants from the trees crawled onto his wounds, perhaps out of curiosity or to feed on his flesh.
"You do have moments that earn admiration," Shen Langhun remarked coolly. He had never seen anyone endure such injuries with such composure, even indifference. Especially not someone who, mere moments ago, had held immense power—just one misstep away from becoming the Martial Arts World’s supreme ruler, a tyrant who could dominate the realm.
"I don’t waste my anger on the dead," Liu Yan replied, equally detached. "I only hate the living, not the dead."
Shen Langhun said, "In your eyes, is Tang Lici the only living person in this world?"
Liu Yan’s eyelids drooped slightly. Despite his resilience, the excruciating pain in his face, body, and legs was undeniably real, and his mind began to blur. "Hah."
Shen Langhun spoke slowly, "And yet… I think Tang Lici is the only one who ever truly cared for you…"
Liu Yan let out a low, cold laugh. "You know nothing.""I know you think he killed Fang Zhou," Shen Langhun said. "But the one who truly caused Fang Zhou's death is actually you." Liu Yan's eyes snapped open as he snarled, "What did you say?" Shen Langhun replied coolly, "Tang Lici preserved Fang Zhou's body in the Ice Spring, removed his heart, and buried it within his own abdomen. Once Fang Zhou's heart healed, he planned to return it to Fang Zhou's body—perhaps then... there might have been a chance for revival. I don’t know whether such an absurd method could truly save a life, but at least it was hope. Yet you sent the woman in white to steal Fang Zhou’s corpse from the Prime Minister’s residence, leading to his body being hacked to pieces and left to rot in a grave. Tell me, isn’t it you who killed Fang Zhou?" He looked at Liu Yan with disdain. "Tang Lici taught Fang Zhou the Rebirth Scroll not just for the sake of supreme martial arts but also to leave him a sliver of life... You hate Tang Lici to the bone for Fang Zhou’s death, yet you have no idea how much effort he poured into trying to bring Fang Zhou back—and all of it was destroyed by you."
The mangled flesh on Liu Yan's face twitched. He had remained indifferent when Shen Langhun flayed his skin, but now his entire body trembled as he gritted his teeth and spat out each word, "You—are—lying! Such a thing is impossible—utterly impossible—hahahaha! Would someone who drives a man to death do it to save him? Hahahaha! You kill a man first to save him—how is that possible? It’s all nonsense! Do you take me for a fool?" Shen Langhun said, "Tang Lici saved your life at Green Peak Cliff, and you repaid him with a palm strike. When he rushed to Bodhi Valley to retrieve Fang Zhou’s corpse, you incited Zhong Chunji to stab him with a needle. If he were truly the kind of man who would betray his brothers for martial glory, why would he save you? Why tolerate you? He could have just let you jump to your death at Green Peak Cliff—wouldn’t that have erased all grudges and even burnished his heroic reputation?" He spoke icily, "Don’t you realize how much suspicion and criticism saving you would bring upon him? If he valued fame and power over brotherhood, he would have killed you long ago." Liu Yan let out a bitter laugh. "Hahahaha! Nonsense! You’re spouting nonsense too! You’re just a dog he bought with money—everything you say is a dog’s bark! Don’t I know what kind of man Tang Lici is? You think he’s some noble, righteous hero? Ridiculous! I’ve known him for twenty years—Tang Lici is sinister, ruthless, and steeped in evil. Next time you see him, ask him how many heinous deeds he’s committed in his life! See if he can answer! If he can even count them all! Hahaha... Brothers? Brothers are just stepping stones on his path to glory—" His face, smeared with blood and trauma medicine, twisted into a visage of terrifying fury."He may not be a good man," Shen Langhun said indifferently, "but he truly treats you well." Liu Yan spat a mouthful of blood, his saliva landing on Shen Langhun's shoulder. "One day, I will chop him into eight pieces, throw them into two wells, and set them on fire!" Shen Langhun ignored him further, scoffing, "Once the wounds on your face heal, I'll let you go. Then we'll see how you chop Tang Lici into eight pieces." Liu Yan slowly exhaled. As long as Tang Lici wasn't mentioned, he remained calm. "Even if you release me now, I won't die." Shen Langhun glanced at the mangled, bloody face—a sight that would make even him nauseous—yet the man seemed indifferent. He had assumed someone like Liu Yan, who could attract so many women to fight for him, would care deeply about his demeanor and appearance. Liu Yan's apathy was indeed unexpected.
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