Her words had barely fallen when Fang Zhuyi, wrapped in a surge of inner force, struck out. Wang Xun no longer held back his strength, and the two began to battle fiercely.

A young man at the same table murmured, “I’ve long heard that this Lingue Fist has been lost for many years. How could Miss Fang know this set of techniques…”

Someone at a neighboring table chimed in, “Hey, I think it’s most likely that General Jing Wuwei taught her!”

“General Jing?”

“Don’t you all know? Over ten years ago, General Jing Wuwei was a renowned general under the Yue Family Army. At the Battle of Taixing, the eldest young master of the Yue family entrusted him on his deathbed to lead the Yue Family Army in supporting the current Emperor. After His Majesty ascended the throne, the first thing he did was to enfeoff General Jing as the Founding Military Marquis…”

“What does that have to do with Miss Fang?”

“General Jing is Miss Fang’s maternal uncle. Don’t you see—the second young master of the Yue family passed the fist technique to General Jing, and General Jing taught it to his own niece. What’s so strange about that?”

Hearing this, the blood drained from Changling’s face like a receding tide. She stared fixedly at the arena, watching Fang Zhuyi’s every punch and move—indeed, there were several similarities to the Lingue Fist she had created herself.

The two on the platform had already exchanged nearly a hundred moves. Though Fang Zhuyi’s fist technique was remarkable, Wang Xun’s martial foundation was deep and solid. Fighting steadily, he discerned the weak points in her movements.

He extended his arm, his internal force surging out, forcing Fang Zhuyi to retreat repeatedly until she barely stepped off the platform.

At this conclusion, Wang Xun raised his sleeve in salute. “I yield to your skill.”

There wasn’t much defeat on Fang Zhuyi’s face. She straightened her robes and said arrogantly, “It wasn’t the Lingue Fist that lost to you—it’s that my internal force is inferior to yours.”

Wang Xun had no intention of arguing with her. He merely smiled faintly. “That goes without saying.”

This bout had several twists and turns, and the spectators all felt thoroughly entertained. Before they could slam the table in applause, they suddenly heard a cold laugh: “This piece of garbage dares to call itself the Lingue Fist?”

The crowd erupted in an uproar—who would speak such arrogant words?!

They were about to seek justice for Miss Fang when they looked over and saw that the speaker was a woman of exceptional beauty. The hall instantly fell silent for a moment.

Miss Fang was already an outstanding beauty, but this woman’s bearing was truly more refined and transcendent than someone who had stepped out of a painting—for a while, the curse words ready to spill out got stuck in their throats.

Fang Zhuyi was already displeased that someone questioned the Lingue Fist, but seeing that the other’s appearance surpassed even her own, she became even more vexed. Pointing at Changling, she demanded, “What did you say?”

“I said,” Changling slowly stood up, “if what you practiced was the true Lingue Fist, you wouldn’t have failed to last even a hundred moves.”

She had used the word “even,” which made Wang Xun furrow his brow as well—where did this woman come from, speaking with such an arrogant tone?

Seeing Fang Zhuyi grow angry and Changling also looking displeased, Fu Yanyang couldn’t quite grasp the situation. Just as he was about to speak in mediation, Fang Zhuyi stepped forward first. “Judging by your tone, Miss, you understand the Lingue Fist?”

Changling’s lips barely moved. “Unfortunately, I understand it a bit better than you do.”

Fang Zhuyi let out a “hah” and said, “Perfect. Let’s have a match—who truly understands and who’s just pretending. One trial will tell!”

Her word “tell” had barely fallen when she suddenly swept forward. Even from several zhang away, those around could feel the sudden condensation of energy. Before they could dodge, her long fist was already right in front of them!

Changling stood ramrod straight in place. With one hand behind her back, she merely waved her left palm lightly through the air—in that instant, everyone saw Fang Zhuyi spin in midair, seemingly striking empty space, and landing directly five steps behind Changling.

What happened? Did she miss? Or did this woman dodge it?

The onlookers were still confused when Changling turned her head, her expression dark and inscrutable as she looked at Fang Zhuyi.

Fang Zhuyi’s face was ashen, her right hand trembling uncontrollably. Her heart shook: I clearly hit her—how did she counter, and what force pushed me here?

Wang Xun was also shocked.

Just now, Fang Zhuyi had blocked his view, so he hadn’t seen clearly how this woman moved. But he could be certain that from beginning to end, she hadn’t moved a single step, hadn’t even swayed her body—so how had she evaded the Lingue Fist?

It must have been just a coincidence.

Fang Zhuyi pressed her lips together, clenched her fists tightly, and charged forward again with the determination to fight with full force. Changling also had no intention of backing down. Just as the two were only half a foot apart, someone suddenly rushed between them fearlessly, shouting, “Oh my, this is truly like the great river flooding the Dragon King’s temple…”

The Lingue Fist stopped right before that person’s nose. He hastily continued the second half: “…family members must not fail to recognize their own family!”

“Fu Yanyang,” Fang Zhuyi suppressed her full fury, “if you don’t get out of my way, I’ll beat you along with her!”

“Don’t be hasty, let me introduce…” Fu Yanyang spread his palm and gestured toward Changling. “This is your cousin.”

“What nonsense are you spouting?”

“Who are you talking about?”

Both beauties spoke simultaneously. The surrounding people were all greatly puzzled. Fu Yanyang glared at Changling. “Sister Nanxu, why are you playing dumb? Didn’t that gentleman just say that Zhuyi is General Jing’s niece? Aren’t you her cousin then?”

Changling’s mind sluggishly stalled for a moment, but then she heard Fu Yanyang say to Fang Zhuyi, “She’s the daughter of General Jing Wuwei who was lost outside.”

In that instant, Changling’s eyes widened.

At the Battle of Taixing, Jing Wuwei who had joined with Shen Yao to betray the Yue family—he was actually Nanxu’s father?

Fang Zhuyi lowered her hand and reexamined Changling from top to bottom. “She’s really my uncle’s daughter?”

Fu Yanyang: “Genuine article. If you don’t believe me, you can ask my brother.”

“No wonder you said you know the Lingue Fist,” Fang Zhuyi’s expression gained two parts understanding. “My uncle taught you, didn’t he?”

Changling suddenly raised her eyelashes, and the coldness in her gaze made Fang Zhuyi inexplicably tense.

Though the Lingue Fist had a renowned reputation, since she had created it, she had only used it once in combat, and in that battle, Jing Wuwei had not been present.

Strictly speaking, she had never formally taught this set of fist techniques to anyone.

However, there was one exception.

To speak of the Lingue Fist, one must first mention Lingue Mountain.

Lingue Mountain was located in Kuaiji, Jiangdong. In that region there were quite a few famous mountains and peaks with beautiful scenery, but aside from its imposing name, Lingue Mountain had nothing else to recommend it.

The trees covering the mountain didn’t bloom in spring, bore no fruit in summer, were bare as a plucked chicken in autumn, and when the cold season arrived with its frozen earth, even a splash of urine in the wilderness could arc into an icicle. Forget about people coming to admire the scenery—even birds and beasts were rarely seen.

Thus, it became an excellent place for Yue Changling to practice martial arts in seclusion—she had even built a wooden cabin on Lingue Mountain.

Twelve years ago, Fu Liujing never would have imagined that in the coldest season of the twelfth month, he would be dragged by Yue Changling to Lingue Mountain to… draw stick figures.

That’s right, draw stick figures—each little figure showing one punching posture, four hundred and eighty figures in total. The complete set of fist techniques was called the Lingue Fist.

Fu Liujing wrapped himself in fur like a rice dumpling, exposing only a pair of shivering hands that gripped the brush with difficulty. “You—if you want to write your fist technique into a book, you can find someone else. Why did you have to find me… achoo!”

Yue Changling, sitting to one side sharpening her sword, didn’t even lift her eyelids. “I heard from my brother that your drawing skills are good—you can even draw spring palace pictures, so a martial arts manual shouldn’t be beyond you.”

“My drawing skills are good…” Fu Liujing sneezed again. “But my health isn’t good! If you’re going to force me to work, you should at least choose a somewhat warmer place… achoo!”

“Ah, sorry. I’ve been practicing martial arts all this time and didn’t notice it was cold here.” Changling’s face showed absolutely no trace of “sorry.” “How about this—when you finish drawing, I’ll take you down the mountain to see a physician. I’ll pay. How’s that?”

“…” With a snap, the brush in Fu Liujing’s hand broke. “Do you think that just because you said that, I can calmly accept this? I’m telling you, if I catch a cold, I absolutely won’t…”

The word “spare” didn’t successfully emerge. He saw Changling point her sword at him, and his tone instantly changed. “Just kidding! It’s just a cold—two cups of brown sugar ginger tea will fix it. I’ve already drawn half of this, how could I give up halfway?”

Afraid of being “finished off,” Fu Liujing naturally didn’t dare give up halfway. Switching back and forth between explosive anger and docile compliance, he finally completed that thick stack of hand-drawn fist manual illustrations—and even sewed the pages into a book, stitch by stitch.

“This fist technique of yours is really too difficult to draw,” Fu Liujing both took credit and complained. “If it weren’t for my good mind, if you had someone else draw this, who the hell could tell how this fist moves from one position to the next?”

Changling took the Lingue Fist manual. “So you’re saying you’ve memorized all these fist techniques?”

“Obviously! I watched you demonstrate three times and spent a full three days drawing this. If I couldn’t remember it, wouldn’t that be unworthy of my title as the number one talent in the martial world?”

“I see.” Changling flipped through the fist manual from beginning to end and nodded slightly. “That’s fine then.”

Having said that, she casually tossed the fist manual into the charcoal brazier. Fu Liujing was shocked. Not caring whether his hands would get burned, he rushed forward to fish the book out. “Are you crazy?! I just finished drawing it, and you burn it?!”

“Because it’s not needed anymore.”

“Not needed?” Fu Liujing shouted at the top of his lungs, “If you didn’t need it, why did you trick me into coming here to draw it for so long? For what?!”

“For nothing. This was meant for you all along.”

Fu Liujing froze. “For me?”

“Previously, when you were surrounded and attacked by rebel soldiers at Yaoshan, you nearly lost your life. I said I’d teach you a few moves for self-defense, but you said you couldn’t endure hardship,” Changling said. “I thought it over from every angle and finally came up with this Lingue Fist—one hand as blade, one hand as stone. It’s not strenuous to practice, and it suits you. With just a bit of practice, when you encounter those small fry in the future, you won’t be left without even the ability to fight back.”

Fu Liujing stared at her dumbfounded, his eyes full of bewilderment. “You’re saying… this Lingue Fist was created for me?”

“I’m just preparing for the unforeseen. If you died, who would be our Yue family’s military strategist?” Changling saw that Fu Liujing was still holding the fist manual. “Alright, burn it.”

“That—that won’t do,” Fu Liujing jumped three feet away. “I drew this with such difficulty. It would be too wasteful to just burn it. Besides—since you said it’s for me, then I won’t burn it. I just won’t!”

“Suit yourself.” Changling waved her hand dismissively. “Just be careful with it. Don’t give it to others casually. If you’re not careful and it spreads from one to ten and ten to a hundred, then even if you know it, it won’t be useful anymore.”

After saying this, she couldn’t be bothered to chat idly with him and turned to leave. But then she heard him say, “Do you truly trust me this much?”

Changling turned back around and looked at him strangely. Ripples rose in his eyes layer upon layer. “There are so many people in the martial world who covet learning your martial arts. Aren’t you worried that I’ll sell your fist technique, or… teach it to someone else?”

“I haven’t thought about that,” Changling tilted her head and asked, “Would you?”

It seemed like only a fleeting instant, yet also as if a long time had passed. But then she heard Fu Liujing say solemnly, “I won’t.”

A trace of a smile unconsciously appeared on her expressionless face. “Then isn’t that fine?”

She had thought she would never recall such distant matters again.

Not until today, when she saw Fang Zhuyi execute the Lingue Fist. Not until Fu Yanyang said she was Jing Wuwei’s niece.

Changling suddenly felt somewhat confused.

That day before Taixing City, Fu Liujing had said that he killed her to avenge Ji Zining, who had never existed in the first place.

That’s why she had told him her identity before falling into the waterfall pool—she thought that at least it would make him feel guilt and remorse.

If he were still alive, she would demand blood for blood—for her eldest brother, for the Yue Family Army, and for their sworn brotherhood at Beiming Peak.

But she hadn’t felt overwhelming hatred about it, because a man seeking revenge for the woman he loved was only natural and right.

Even if he had been mistaken.

But looking at it now, perhaps the one who had mistaken everything wasn’t Fu Liujing—it was herself.

If he had truly felt any loyalty or affection, how could he possibly have taught the Lingue Fist to Jing Wuwei after her death?

Just like back then—if he wanted revenge, he could have simply poisoned a pot of wine. Why go to such great lengths to use some Lovers’ Gu?

Yue Changling, oh Yue Changling, why be surprised? Why ask about cause and effect?

She had been foolish from the start, planting grass in barren land—how could she ever expect it to bring forth spring’s growth?

Author’s Note:

Planting grass in barren land—how could she ever expect it to bring forth spring’s growth?

When I wrote this line, my fingertips froze, and suddenly I couldn’t continue writing, so this chapter ends abruptly here.

Brother Liujing has probably driven me to distraction.