As Zhao Xing soared from tree to tree, descending the mountain with fluid grace, a tempest of emotions raged within him. As hard as he tried to remain calm, his anger surged through his veins—anger at his failure to protect Zhao Li.
“I should’ve never left her with Jiang Li!” He growled, his voice barely audible through the rustling leaves.
Zhao Xing launched himself twenty meters skyward before alighting another branch. As dominant as his physical prowess was, he couldn’t outrun the guilt that pursued him relentlessly.
His mind raced between past and present. Images of Zhao Li’s plight intertwined with memories of battles won and lost. He knew the danger of allowing his anger to cloud his judgment, but controlling the maelstrom within proved a difficult task.
Despite his best efforts, Zhao Xing’s thoughts wandered to when he killed the men from the Red Lantern Tavern and the foolish physician who attempted to kidnap his daughter, right in front of him!
Each memory served only to fuel his growing rage and amplify his sense of failure. The weight of his choices pressed down upon him, heavier than any physical burden he had ever borne.
It burned him to leave Zhao Li in the care of that woman. A woman he never trusted, especially after what she had done to him.
But he had no choice, he had his own limitations. Gone were the days when he could fight for hours without respite. The mighty Shredding Claw Xing, once a paragon of martial prowess, now found himself a shadow of his former self.
The injury he had sustained years ago had improved, but only marginally. The insidious poison that had seeped into his Core Dantian during that fateful battle had left an indelible mark. Despite his tireless efforts to expunge the toxin, it had spread to the very walls of his Dantian.
It was a cruel twist of fate, as he fought against the poison, his Mind Dantian began to expand, forcing him to make an impossible choice: ascension or the permanent shattering of his Core Dantian.
The decision he made had turned out to be a pyrrhic victory. Now, he could barely sustain three minutes of intense combat. The glory of ascending to the Qi Perception Realm had been within his grasp, but the price had been steep—he’d become a cripple in the eyes of the martial world.
Unbidden memories of that fateful night resurfaced. The night when Jiang Li, driven by her own selfish desires, had drugged him and forced herself upon him. That act of betrayal had resulted in the birth of their second daughter, a child born of deceit rather than love. Try as he might to bury the memory, it remained a festering wound upon his heart.
As anger threatened to overwhelm him, Zhao Xing forced himself to remember the complexities of his situation. Jiang Li was the daughter of the Jiang Clan patriarch, a man who had provided him with the tools and resources needed to establish his sect. Unlike many others in the valley, the Jiang Clan had seen his potential, especially after he had eliminated the Stone Bear Band that had terrorized the village for years.
These thoughts did little to quell the storm within him, but they served as a reminder of the delicate balance he must maintain. Zhao Li was still in their care, and he needed to approach the situation with a clear mind, no matter how difficult that might be.
A thunderous boom echoed throughout the Purple Mist Village as Zhao Xing landed before the front gate of the Jiang Clan’s residence. The impact sent a cloud of dust billowing into the air, creating an ethereal mist that seemed to herald the arrival of a great and terrible beast.
“Stop!” One of the guards shouted, leveling his sword at Xing with a trembling hand.
Zhao Xing’s eyes flickered with recognition. “You’ve grown stronger, Tong,” He said calmly.
As realization dawned into Tong’s eyes. “Sect Master Zhao!” He exclaimed, dropping to one knee with clasped fists in a show of respect. The other three guards, however, remained motionless, as if Zhao Xing’s arrival meant nothing to them.
“What are you doing?” Tong growled at his comrades, his voice laced with disbelief. “Pay your respects to the Sect Master of the Purple Mist Sect!”
The three guards exchanged uneasy glances but held their ground. One of them, his voice quavering slightly, spoke up. “Madam Li warned us that if he were to arrive, we shouldn’t allow him entry. She says... she says he plans to kill her.”
A dark chuckle escaped Zhao Xing's lips. “Kill her?” He said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “At least she knows her fate.”
Zhao Xing opened his Dantians, flooding his meridians with his Qi. His body began to shimmer with a subtle white light, which rapidly darkened to an ominous black, a visible manifestation of his killing intent.
The effect was immediate and terrifying. The three guards collapsed to the ground, sweat pouring down their faces as they gnashed their teeth, struggling against the overwhelming fear that gripped them. Their efforts were in vain; Zhao Xing's aura was simply too powerful to resist.
Turning his attention back to Tong, Zhao Xing’s expression softened slightly. “It was good to see you, Tong. It’s a pity you chose this path. I had hoped you’d accompany Luan and Ting. They’ve ascended to the Mind Awakening Realm and will soon be traversing the Jianghu.”
Tong’s eyes widened in surprise. “They’ve ascended?”
“They have,” Zhao Xing confirmed.
“Give them my congratulations,” Tong said, a hint of regret in his voice.
“No,” Zhao Xing said firmly, “You’ll do that yourself!”
A surge of Qi exploded from Zhao Xing as he raised his hand towards the gate. His meridians constricted from the sudden overuse, and he barely managed to suppress a wince of pain.
A deafening boom reverberated throughout the manor as the gate swung open violently, as if struck by an invisible battering ram.
“JIANG LI!” Zhao Xing’s voice thundered as he strode through the manor gate. “IT IS I, ZHAO XING... YOUR PRESENCE IS REQUESTED... NOW!”
Zhao Xing’s voice echoed through the Jiang Clan’s manor like a portent of doom. He stomped his way through manicured gardens and ornate corridors, making his way towards the Main Hall. Servants and guards alike shrank back as he passed, chills running down their spines at the palpable aura of fury that surrounded him.
The sound of his approach was like thunder rolling across the sky, and everyone within earshot knew that a storm was brewing—one that threatened to tear the very foundations of the Jiang Clan asunder.
The doors to the main hall swung open, granting Zhao Xing entry. The floorboards creaked beneath his feet, the sound reminiscent of rats scurrying away from a predator. Upon reaching the center of the hall, he grasped the back of his robes and flared them outward before settling into a lotus position. There he sat, a picture of serenity belied by the murderous aura that leaked from his body, slowly frosting the air of the Jiang Clan’s Main Hall.
As the seconds stretched into an eternity before the back door of the main hall creaked open. Zhao Xing remained motionless in perfect posture his the killing aura radiating like thunder in a night storm.
Jiang Yu emerged from behind an ornate curtain, flanked by two wary bodyguards. The Old Patriarch's face was a roadmap of wrinkles, his hair as white as freshly fallen snow. He’s getting on in years, Xing thought to himself as he allowed his Qi to surge throughout the hall, creating an oppressive atmosphere.
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
“Master Zhao Xing,” Jiang Yu began, his voice tinged with worry, “I’m relieved you’ve come. We’ve been searching for Li’er all night long, but we’ve had no success in locating her.”
Zhao Xing’s patience was running thin, forcing him to finally snap. “Don't play games with me, Old Man,” He growled, his voice low and dangerous. “I know what Jiang Li did to her. Where is she?!”
“She’s out looking for Li’er as we sp—"
“AS WE SPEAK?!” Zhao Xing roared, his voice shaking the very foundations of the hall. “STOP LYING. THAT GIRL HAS NEVER SET FOOT IN THE FOREST. ALL SHE KNOWS IS THIS MANOR AND THE PURPLE MIST VILLAGE. SHE HAS NOT STEPPED FOOT OUTSIDE OF THIS VILLAGE OR MY SECT!”
A vein pulsed angrily on Jiang Yu’s forehead, betraying his growing frustration. The old man knew he walked a dangerous line; he couldn't afford to offend Zhao Xing, not after all he had done for the Jiang Clan and the Purple Mist Valley.
“Zhao Xing,” Jiang Yu said, his voice softening in an attempt to defuse the situation, “Please, quell your ang—“
“Call Jiang Li, and I will do so,” Zhao Xing interrupted, his tone brooking no argument.
“You can’t speak to Patriarch Jiang that way!” One of the guards spat, his hand moving to the hilt of his sword.
The sound of flesh striking flesh echoed through the room as Jiang Yu backhanded the guard. “Watch your mouth, boy!” the old man hissed. “Are you trying to get us all killed?”
Jiang Yu turned back to Zhao Xing, and for the first time in years, Zhao Xing saw genuine fear in the old man’s eyes. He had known fear before, having lived under the Stone Bear Band’s oppressive rule for over a decade, but that was six years in the past. Unlike the brutish bandits, Zhao Xing had sought peaceful coexistence with the Purple Mist Valley—as long as Zhao Li was protected. Now that this was no longer the case, Jiang Yu's fear was not only understandable but wholly warranted.
“Old Man Jiang,” Xing said, his voice tight with restrained emotion, “I’m not here to hurt anyone. I’m simply requesting the presence of your daughter, Jiang Li.”
Jiang Yu’s hands balled into fists, his knuckles white with tension. He remained silent, but his face spoke volumes. Zhao Xing kept his gaze fixed on the door, waiting for Jiang Li to make her appearance.
“As you wish, Sect Master Xing,” Jiang Yu finally acquiesced. He nodded to his bodyguard, who bowed, the red mark from the earlier slap still visible on his cheek.
An oppressive silence fell over the Jiang Manor Hall as both men waited for Jiang Li's arrival. The tension in the room continued to escalate with each passing moment. Jiang Yu glared at Zhao Xing, his fists clenched so tightly that his nails bit into his palms. The chastised guard stood stiffly to the side, his eyes downcast in shame.
After what seemed like an eternity, the door finally opened, and Jiang Li entered the room. She was dressed in a simple blue robe, her hair pulled back into a loose braid. Trying to appear humble? Xing thought, noting how plain her hanfu was compared to the finely embroidered garments she usually favored.
“Father,” Jiang Li said, curtsying demurely.
A subtle, nervous smile flickered across her face as she turned to Zhao Xing, offering another curtsy while carefully avoiding his gaze. “Sect Master Zhao Xing,” she said softly, her voice honey-sweet, “What brings you to the village? Have you come to see Zhao Li?"
Zhao Xing closed his eyes, feeling his Qi surge within his meridians. The vital energy that flowed through him now burned hotter than the sun blazing over a desert wasteland, fueled by Jiang Li’s casual mention of Zhao Li. The name of the child born from her deceit was like salt in an open wound.
As Zhao Xing rose from his lotus position, the air around him began to shudder visibly. The Qi surging within him manifested as a colorless aura, which slowly darkened, becoming as menacing as the deepest shadow. It swirled towards Jiang Li like a predator stalking its prey.
Zhao Xing stepped forward, closing the distance between him and Jiang Li. His eyes blazed crimson, as if possessed by a vengeful demon.
In that moment, his mind raced through all the possibilities of what Zhao Li might have endured in his absence. He imagined her tears, her cries for him, all because this woman before him had failed to be the mother she needed. It's my fault, he finally admitted to himself. This is my fault.
“Jiang Li,” Zhao Xing said, his voice barely above a whisper yet carrying the weight of mountains, “You are a Demoness. Not only did you steal my seed, but you struck my daughter in anger.”
“I DIDN’T STRIKE HER IN ANGER!” Jiang Li protested, her composure cracking.
“So you struck her for pleasure?” Zhao Xing’s asked, watching her flinch from the question.
“I DID NOT! FATHER, SAY SOMETHING!” Jiang Li cried out, desperation clear in her voice.
“Say something like what?” Zhao Xing pressed, his tone dripping with disdain. “How your JEALOUSY wouldn’t allow you the grace to care for the girl properly?"
“SHE’S AN AXSUMITE!” Jiang Li spat, her words laced with venom.
“SHE’S MY DAUGHTER!” Zhao Xing's voice boomed, shaking the very foundations of the room. Jiang Li stumbled backward, fear etched across her face as the air around Zhao Xing crackled with barely contained energy. The guards instinctively stepped back, their survival instincts screaming at them to flee from the danger that Zhao Xing now presented.
Jiang Li's expression contorted into one of unbridled rage, as if a spark had ignited an inferno within her. She raised her right hand, ready to strike, but Zhao Xing was faster. He caught her wrist mid-air, squeezing it with just enough force to make her wince.
“You’re nothing but a bully who can't see past her own actions,” He growled. “The pain you feel in your hand now, let it serve as a reminder of all the suffering you’ve inflicted upon Li’er over the years!”
Jiang Li cried out as Zhao Xing released her hand. She looked down at her reddening wrist, then back at him, her eyes blazing. With a furious cry, she stomped toward him, raising her hand to his face. “Is this how you treat the mother of your child?!”
“Imagine how Li’er felt when you slapped her,” Zhao Xing countered, his voice low and dangerous. “Didn’t you promise me you would care for her, nurture her? Was that not the vow you made?”
Zhao Xing’s words hung heavily in the air, and Jiang Li’s hand slowly fell back to her side. The room fell silent, the only sound the ragged breathing of both parties. For a moment, Jiang Li looked defeated, her eyes downcast. But then, like a rekindled flame, the fire burned within them once more.
“I NEVER AGREED TO TAKE CARE OF HER!” She shrieked. “IT WAS MY FATHER'S IDEA! I COULDN'T CARE LESS ABOUT THAT TH—“
The sharp crack of flesh striking flesh echoed through the room once more. This time, it was Jiang Yu’s hand that had found its mark on his daughter’s cheek. The old man’s face was a mask of fury, making him look like a enraged shishi, ready to pounce on anyone who dared cross his path.
“HOW. DARE. YOU!” Jiang Yu roared, his voice reverberating through the hall. “I’ve done everything for you! Without me, you would be nothing but a common whore! I won’t accept this behavior any longer. You spit on your mother’s grave! You deserve nothing but shame. This is why you are still unwed—because no man wants a woman who speaks as you do!”
The room fell into a stunned silence following Jiang Yu’s outburst. The guards standing near the father and daughter pair shifted uncomfortably, their eyes darting between the three central figures. The tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife.
Zhao Xing’s gaze remained fixed on Jiang Li, unmoved by her shocked expression in the wake of her father's harsh words. In truth, he felt no sympathy for her. He had encountered women like her throughout the Jianghu—those who cared only for themselves. The thought that Zhao Li had been raised by such a person only stoked the flames of his anger.
“Old Man Jiang,” Zhao Xing said firmly, breaking the tense silence. “Take care of Zhao Li... for as long as your health allows it.”
Jiang Yu opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it as Zhao Xing turned on his heel. With a dramatic flap of his robes, Zhao Xing stomped towards the Main Hall’s doors, his eyes still fixed on Jiang Li, now filled with undisguised disgust.
As he reached the threshold, the sound of Jiang Li’s weeping filled the room. Her cries, rather than evoking sympathy, only served to deepen Zhao Xing's revulsion.
“Jiang Li,” Zhao Xing said softly, pausing at the doorway. His voice, though quiet, carried clearly through the hall. “The pain you feel now is temporary, but the scars you've left on my daughter are ones she will never forget. May Bodhidharma’s light guide you... for you'll find no compassion from me.”
With those parting words, Zhao Xing strode out of the Jiang Clan's Main Hall, leaving behind a tableau of shock, shame, and simmering anger. As he made his way through the manor grounds, servants and guards alike scrambled to clear his path, their faces a mix of fear and awe.
The sun had begun its descent towards the horizon, casting long shadows across the Purple Mist Village. Zhao Xing paid no heed to the beautiful sunset, his mind focused solely on his next moves. He had come seeking answers and justice for Zhao Li, but he left with more questions and a burning desire for retribution.
As he passed through the manor gates, Zhao Xing spotted Tong still standing at his post. The young guard's face was a mask of conflicting emotions—respect, fear, and uncertainty warred in his eyes.
“Tong,” Zhao Xing called out, his voice softer than it had been inside the manor.
“Yes, Sect Master?” Tong replied, snapping to attention.
“When you're ready to leave this place behind, the Purple Mist Sect will welcome you. Remember, true strength lies not just in martial prowess, but in the courage to stand up for what’s right.”
Tong's eyes widened at the unexpected offer. He opened his mouth to respond, but Zhao Xing had already turned away, his figure blurring as he leapt into the air, bounding from rooftop to rooftop with inhuman speed and grace.
As Zhao Xing made his way back towards the mountain and his sect, his mind raced. The confrontation with Jiang Li and Jiang Yu had provided some answers, but it had also opened up new avenues of concern. Where was Zhao Li now? What had truly transpired to make her flee? And most importantly, how could he make amends for his failure to protect her?
The cool mountain air whipped past him as he ascended, his movements fluid despite the turmoil in his heart. With each leap, he felt the poison in his Dantian pulse, a constant reminder of his limitations. But now, faced with the crisis of his daughter's disappearance, Zhao Xing made a silent vow. No matter the cost to his own body, no matter the pain he would have to endure, he would find Zhao Li and bring her home.