“No need for the trouble of verifying footprints. The one who kidnapped the Donkey-riding Lady and previous Goddess of Mercy slaves—that was me.”
Cao Hong’s words struck like thunder on level ground, shocking the entire hall in an instant.
For a moment, the Cao family members and guests attending the tonsure ceremony were all dumbstruck, thinking their ears had deceived them. They stared at him with wide, bewildered eyes. Yet Cao Hong’s voice was clear and resonant, his tone calm and composed, as if what emerged from his mouth was merely ordinary jianghu conversation.
Cao Daze, thinking his aged ears had failed him, glanced at the pair of short blades on the table and said in a trembling voice: “Hong’er, what are you saying? This joke cannot be made!”
Wei Xun and his group had followed the trail to the Cao residence, prepared for the elaborate effort it would take to obtain clues, having planned in advance to use Yang Xingjian’s official status for intimidation. Who could have expected that upon barely arriving, Cao Hong himself would openly confess? After nearly half a month of mobilizing forces through hardships and setbacks, having the true culprit suddenly step forward felt extremely unreal, like being in a dream.
Elder Huijue’s face showed utter disbelief as he stared at this chivalrous hero known by the fine reputation of “Ferry Boat,” thinking he was deliberately provoking Canyang Academy because he couldn’t bear the insult to his gang’s honor. He advised seriously: “This matter is no small thing. Gang Leader Cao must not act in anger or treat it as child’s play. Isn’t your sister the very first Goddess of Mercy slave? How can there be talk of kidnapping?”
Cao Hong knew this strange affair had continued for many years with wide-reaching implications. It couldn’t be resolved by taking all blame upon himself with just a few words—the mastermind needed a credible criminal motive that would convince everyone. Only by utterly disgracing himself, making relatives, friends, and subordinates all despise and scorn him, immediately severing all ties, could he achieve his purpose and protect their safety.
“This evil began with my little sister. I and Yanyan…”
He lowered his head, gritting his teeth as he spoke the most shameful self-defiling words: “Yanyan and I had long been secretly pledged to each other. After she gained fame portraying Guanyin in the city patrols, people seeking marriage came to our home in endless streams, wearing out our threshold. Unable to bear it, I forcibly hid her away, then created the false appearance of ‘ascension’ to deceive my family.”
With a crash, Cao Daze’s hands trembled violently as he knocked over his tea bowl, his face ashen. Unable to catch his breath, he clenched his fists and pounded his chest repeatedly, his expression extremely pained. These words were even more shocking than hearing his son was an utterly evil murderer, shattering all his understanding.
Cao Run’s face turned ghastly pale. Like being struck by lightning, he stood stunned, murmuring: “Elder Brother, what are you saying? Sister Yan is our blood sister from the same mother! This is… is…” His chest heaved violently as he stammered, too shocked and terrified to speak the utterly filthy word.
No one had expected that the Ferry Boat, renowned throughout Luoyang, would personally admit to such depravity—committing incest with his own sister and abducting her for imprisonment. This massive shock was more scandalous than the Luo River flowing backward. Weapons involuntarily lowered in their hands.
Qiu Ren whispered to Tuoba Sanniang: “And you call me disgusting—at least my lovers had no objections.” Tuoba Sanniang spat at him in disgust and moved farther away.
Wei Xun’s anger was visible as he coldly demanded of Cao Hong: “I don’t care if you’re sleeping with the Jade Emperor himself—why kidnap other Goddess of Mercy slaves?!”
Cao Hong’s eyes grew vacant as he said softly: “She was all alone with no one to see. So every year after the city patrols, I kidnapped Goddess of Mercy slaves to keep her company.”
Cao Daze’s yellowed old eyes became bloodshot and swollen. His years of deep longing for his daughter had been repaid in such an unbearable form. If not for being half-paralyzed and unable to move, he would have drawn his blade and stabbed it into Cao Hong’s chest to vent his hatred. The old man cursed incoherently: “Beast! Worse than a beast! I birthed such a monster—I’m an old beast myself! Where did you hide Yan’er?!”
Wei Xun urgently pressed: “Where is the Donkey-riding Lady?!”
Cao Hong raised his head, his gaze slowly sweeping over everyone in the main hall—shock, contempt, hatred, skepticism… all manner of chaotic expressions met his eyes. After tonight, the Luoqing Gang would surely fall apart, and the Cao family would no longer have the face to remain in Luoyang.
This was exactly his purpose. He hoped that after he took the blame and accepted punishment, these people he cared about would scatter and leave the Yellow River region entirely, completely escaping Prince Qi’s threat. He had naively hoped the prefect would enforce justice fairly, never expecting those above the clouds would only collude with each other, treating grass-roots folk like them as ants to be trampled at will.
After Yanyan left, Cui Dongyang had shamelessly sent the Ascension Family plaque to provide cover for Prince Qi. All these years, whenever he saw that stone plaque at his family’s gate, he felt the hatred of ten thousand arrows piercing his heart. Only after Cui Dongyang was demoted and transferred away did he have the chance to pursue and slightly avenge this grievance. But Prince Qi, that sun, remained unmoved, grasping all his vulnerabilities and leaving him no chance to resist.
It was time to go to hell…
Cao Hong said calmly: “Yanyan threw herself into the water and died that very year. The others naturally accompanied her on that journey each year.”
Wei Xun felt a buzzing in his head as if the entire sky had darkened. Unable to believe it, he repeated in a daze: “You said she went where?”
Cao Hong pulled out a small bundle of goose-yellow fabric from his robes, gently tossing it on the table as he said indifferently: “I used this blade to dismember her, threw the pieces in the lower Luo River, and destroyed the evidence.”
Everyone’s expression changed dramatically as their gazes focused on that object. Upon closer inspection, it was a hair ribbon used by women.
Wei Xun’s vision suddenly became extremely narrow, able to see only the color of that silk ribbon. Before she was abducted, every piece of clothing, every accessory she wore was firmly imprinted in his heart, never forgotten for a moment. Under the firelight, the ribbon’s delicate color resembled feathers left behind after a small bird’s death.
She was no longer in this world? The heavens collapsed with a thunderous crash.
Those familiar with Cao Hong for many years—relatives, friends, and subordinates—all knew Ferry Boat’s solid character and heroic righteousness. When he confessed to such shocking crimes, everyone felt skeptical, finding it hard to believe. But when Cao Hong produced this hair ribbon as evidence, the previously ethereal doubts instantly solidified into iron weights, ruthlessly shattering worship and trust.
Many couldn’t help recalling Cao Hong’s past behaviors: no matter who advised him, he refused to marry, always remaining solitary; frequently helping those desperate souls wanting to drown themselves; freely retrieving and burying corpses… Each incident, when considered now, seemed to stem from his private depravity and overwhelming guilt, performing these righteous acts to ease his conscience.
Cao Daze was shocked, enraged, and deeply ashamed, fainting on the spot. Cao Run rushed to rescue him. Meanwhile, the steady, experienced people like Elder Huijue from White Camel Temple felt an indescribable eeriness about this whole affair.
The mystery of “ascension” had continued for eight long years. Cao Hong was a first-rate master in the jianghu—if he implemented the kidnappings, he could indeed deceive ordinary people and create bizarre circumstances.
But Canyang Academy hadn’t yet obtained concrete evidence, only coming to demand footprint comparisons. Why did he immediately confess without a word? Was it merely because his spirit couldn’t bear the burden? Having concealed everything perfectly for eight years without even family members noticing, if his nature was truly this depraved and bestial, he shouldn’t be so fragile.
After confessing, Cao Hong turned and picked up his tea bowl to drink.
Tuoba Sanniang frowned as she observed his behavior, then glanced back at Wei Xun’s vacant expression. Sensing trouble, she warned in a low voice: “The kidnappers were three people. Besides Cao Hong, there should be two more accomplices…”
Wei Xun swayed, like a candle in the wind, staggering forward a step, tottering as if about to collapse.
Huijue and the others had long been alert for a sudden attack from Canyang Academy. After Cao Hong’s confession, expecting the Blue-robed Guest to be extremely angry and pained, they quietly moved toward the main hall’s central axis, wanting to temporarily preserve Cao Hong’s life to clarify the truth before bringing him to justice. Therefore, when Wei Xun began moving, all the masters in the hall had been prepared.
Abbess Duanchen thrust out her fly whisk. Under her internal energy’s drive, thousands of yak-tail hairs stood up and spread like an opened giant umbrella blocking Wei Xun’s path. After the soft horsetail hairs bloomed in all directions, they became like sharp steel needles—anyone rashly charging forward would be pierced through the flesh. This spectacular move of using softness to overcome hardness, “Buddha’s Light Universal Illumination,” was actually only for interception, not a killing technique.
However, after the fly whisk bloomed, Wei Xun vanished from his original position like a ghost. The next moment he appeared behind Abbess Duanchen.
Only top masters like Tuoba Sanniang and the three White Camel Temple elders could barely discern his movement from the afterimages. When Duanchen intercepted, Wei Xun employed supreme lightness skills, striking from behind like thunder and lightning, circling around the fly whisk defense. No matter how broadly that “Buddha’s light” covered, it couldn’t illuminate his soul sunk deep in dark waters.
Huijue and the other two elders understood that with such blood vengeance, the Blue-robed Guest would only strike to kill Cao Hong immediately, not entangle with others. The three old monks had cultivated together for decades with synchronized minds. Without time for discussion, they instinctively formed the Five Aggregates Demon-Subduing Formation, surrounding him in a triangle.
It was also karmic entanglement—thirty years ago, White Camel Temple’s five elders created this formation specifically to subdue his master Chen Shigu. However, that demon’s martial arts were simply incomprehensible, and his perception was extraordinary. Not only couldn’t they defeat him, but he spotted their weaknesses, broke the formation, and killed two people, leaving only three of the five elders.
That was when White Camel Temple actively went to Guanzhong to challenge Canyang Academy. Defeated by superior skill with nothing to say, the three monks acknowledged their inferiority and retreated to their temple, disheartened and withdrawn from worldly affairs.
Chen Shigu was then in his prime; now this youth was not yet twenty. Three against one was not only bullying with numbers but also taking advantage of age. But circumstances forced the three monks to shamelessly surround him together.
Though the formation lacked two people, the three monks had reflected and corrected for years, patching the weaknesses Chen Shigu had exploited. The Five Aggregates Formation deployed like the thousand-armed Guanyin, six arms creating an impenetrable net with no gaps. Even the eerie, rarely-seen Mirage Steps could find no opening momentarily.
Wei Xun’s form paused, his blue shadow swaying as his steps changed, spinning like a top within the triangle formation. The four combatants moved so fast that only three yellow and one blue afterimage remained, crisscrossing vertically and horizontally. All spectators were dumbstruck—they never dreamed such shocking martial arts existed in the world. Forget appreciating and critiquing; even seeing the moves clearly was wishful thinking.
Though the two sides seemed evenly matched, the three monks grew increasingly alarmed. This youth, despite his age, had martial power comparable to Chen Shigu in his prime. His Remnant Lamp Hand was fierce and ruthless, supremely powerful, falling like violent storms and torrential rain. Soon the three monks’ robes were shredded like autumn leaves in wind, pieces floating and scattering, their six arms torn bloody. If not for the exquisite Five Aggregates Formation serving as an iron wall, a solid claw strike would likely cost them limbs.
Unable to achieve quick victory, the three monks knew such explosive combat couldn’t last long. They intended to rely on their accumulated profound true power to gradually wear down his strength until he was exhausted and defeated. Wei Xun’s speed indeed gradually slowed, seemingly truly overtired and lacking strength.
But before they could breathe easier, Wei Xun changed from claws to palms, employing the gentle, ever-changing Sunset Clouds on Waves Palm. This palm technique was a supreme skill left by Chen Shigu. Though all Canyang Academy disciples were brilliantly talented, only Wei Xun truly grasped its essence and mastered this technique. No one in the jianghu had ever lived to witness it before. Its palm force was supremely soft and pure—though containing only thirteen forms, its changes were like fickle fate itself: prosperity and decline, rise and fall, joy and sorrow beyond mortal comprehension. Combined with the unpredictable Mirage Steps, it could instantly transform into countless variations.
Watching from the sidelines, Tuoba Sanniang and Qiu Ren secretly marveled. Though they long knew Wei Xun’s martial arts surpassed theirs significantly, this gap was like an unbridgeable chasm.
They didn’t know that when Chen Shigu created the three supreme skills—Sunset Clouds on Waves Palm, Mirage Steps, and Remnant Lamp Hand—he was deeply mired in the despair of his beloved friend’s death and complete destruction. Even with peerless martial arts, he couldn’t prevent tragedy. Grief, sorrow, and resentment flowed endlessly like great rivers, ultimately driving him to collapse and madness—exactly matching Wei Xun’s current state of mind. Like the Fish Intestine Sword emerging bloodied from its sheath, he displayed the desperate man’s martial legacy to its absolute peak.
Facing such a mad, supreme master, the three monks could no longer maintain a mindset of subduing their opponent—they had to use killing moves. Huiding deployed the Eight Sufferings Heartbreak Fist, his fist wind howling as it struck directly at the dantian with the force of a fierce tiger descending the mountain. Wei Xun didn’t block but charged straight forward, attacking Huiding’s throat with the palm technique “Forever Separated by Life and Death,” clearly intending mutual destruction.
The foundation of all multi-person formations is one party under attack while others provide rescue. Huiding felt cold wind cutting his face with no time to withdraw and defend. Huijue hastily intercepted with a diagonal palm, taking Wei Xun’s attack. Both being first-rate masters, their palm clash should have been evenly matched, at least creating a momentary stalemate. Who expected that the instant their flesh met, Wei Xun suddenly changed techniques?
He switched from “Forever Separated by Life and Death” to “Remnant Lamp, Slanting Sun,” five fingers forming claws as he directly grasped Huijue’s right hand. At the moment the old monk’s internal energy surged out, he exerted crushing force, using Remnant Lamp Hand to completely shatter the old monk’s hand.
Huijue suffered severe injury—that limb was essentially crippled. The Five Aggregates Demon-Subduing Formation immediately showed a weakness. If Wei Xun pressed his advantage now, he could take at least one monk’s life, but that wasn’t his purpose. With a light touch of his toes, his form flashed like lightning. In one sway and flash, he drilled through the gap and pounced straight at Cao Hong.
At this critical moment, no one in the hall could stop him.
Cao Hong didn’t pick up weapons, merely assuming a defensive posture with raised palms to block. Though Wei Xun was trapped in extreme grief and madness, like Chen Shigu, he retained one last thread of reason. He knew that killing this man would sever all leads. He needed to capture him alive and hand him to Sanniang and Qiu Ren for torture like they’d done to Shen Dexian—perhaps they could force information about the other two accomplices. That was the only hope in this desperate situation.
Wei Xun had exchanged a palm with Cao Hong at Changqiu Temple and could roughly estimate his strength, so he used only sixty percent power, planning to cripple him.
Cao Hong raised his palms to resist as before, but when this palm struck, Wei Xun suddenly felt an empty sensation, as if hitting cotton with no resistance. Anyone with superior martial arts would have instinctive internal energy protection—even under surprise attack, there would be at least muscular reflex.
Yet Wei Xun was shocked to discover Cao Hong’s defensive instincts were completely absent. When their palms met, he was like a passerby with no martial skills whatsoever, immediately sent flying like a kite with severed strings, smashing through a screen and falling amid scattered pieces.
In that instant, Wei Xun felt a nameless fear far exceeding his earlier mortal combat with the three monks. Seeing Cao Hong lying motionless on the ground, cold sweat immediately poured down his back.
“Fourth Brother!” Wei Xun called back.
Qiu Ren naturally understood his meaning, stepping forward to lean down. He first grasped Cao Hong’s pulse point for control to prevent deception, inserted two Soul-Fixing Silver Needles into his neck, then began examining his pulse with confidence. Moments later, that dark face showed a bitter expression.
Sunset Clouds on Waves Palm had peculiar power, injuring people invisibly without leaving external wounds. Only by cutting open skin, flesh, and bone could one see the tragic state of shattered organs and severed meridians. Under such fatal injuries, the pulse showed no stomach, spirit, or root qi—vitality extremely depleted beyond salvation.
“Even if Master-Uncle were here, he couldn’t be saved,” Qiu Ren shook his head with this conclusion.
Wei Xun’s head buzzed, his fingertips numb. He rushed to Cao Hong’s side, pressing his palm against his chest and channeling true qi into his body. Cao Hong’s eyes opened slightly, his throat trembling as if speaking a name, but no sound emerged. His gaze gradually scattered.
Tuoba Sanniang approached, seeing Cao Hong about to die and knowing she’d have no chance to employ her methods tonight. As an experienced assassin, she was expert not only in interrogation but also intimately familiar with various subtle signs of the dying. Cao Hong harbored a death wish, deliberately not resisting, borrowing Wei Xun’s hand to end his own life. Tuoba Sanniang recalled how Cao Hong had earlier turned to drink tea with both hands holding the bowl—thinking about it now, that wasn’t a natural action.
“Before the fight, he seemed to swallow something. Poison? Or…”
Wei Xun immediately withdrew his palm energy. After brief consideration, he unhesitatingly tore open Cao Hong’s abdomen, reaching directly into his stomach to explore and search. The sight was bloody and gruesome, unbearable to watch.
Though everyone heard Cao Hong’s confession, seeing Wei Xun’s mad behavior still made them shudder with fear, not daring to look closely.
As Tuoba Sanniang suspected, moments later Wei Xun retrieved something unusual from the bloody flesh. He held it carefully, bringing it near the torches for illumination.
It appeared to be a note, severely corroded by gastric acid and blood, gradually dissolving into a pulpy mess with no possibility of unfolding and reading. On the last remaining corner of paper, Wei Xun vaguely made out two blurred characters.
Bing Zhi.
What did this mean? Was it a person’s name? Or some other hint?
Wei Xun held this mass of bloody pulp, rushing toward the dumbstruck Yang Xingjian at the door, his voice trembling as he urgently asked: “What is ‘Bing Zhi’? You’re the most literate and learned among us—please look!”
Yang Xingjian’s face was deathly pale. He carefully examined the blurred writing in the bloody flesh, then looked up to see Wei Xun’s desperate, crazed expression. Grief welled up within him as tears rolled down his beard, soaking his green robes.
Sobbing uncontrollably, he said brokenly: “Jia Wood overcomes Wu Earth, Yi Wood overcomes Ji Earth… Bing Fire overcomes Geng Metal, Ding Fire overcomes Xin Metal, Wu Earth overcomes Ren Water. The character Bing belongs to fire in the Five Elements. Bing Zhi… Bing Zhi means burning and destroying documents. Besides this, it has no other meaning.”
No other meaning.
No meaning.
The final clue, the final hope, was thus extinguished.
The night was sorrowful with melancholy clouds. From the Cao ancestral home beside the Luo River came a long howl, neither human nor ghost, echoing long in the night sky and terrifying all who heard it.
In that desperate, piercing howl, the dying Cao Hong’s eyes saw Cao Yan’s final image. That day, to bring her back, he was forced to make a deal with demons. That day, he had poled a small boat, secretly sending his sister dressed in coarse cloth to the countryside. After his death, no one in the world would know her whereabouts—no one could threaten her life again.
Author’s Note: “Bing Zhi” has another meaning outside the story—raging fire and phoenix rebirth, ultimately depending on oneself. Old Yang probably recalled how he too had once eaten a letter in front of Wei Xun.