The trio left the small town and headed northwest.
The further north they went, the more sparse the population became.
Most of the villages along the way were abandoned. Occasionally, they encountered a few living souls, but they were all refugees in a hurry, their bodies wrapped in rags, leaving only a pair of hollow eyes exposed.
Chen Zui watched this but said nothing.
Such was the nature of a chaotic world; some froze to death by the roadside, while others drank and made merry in warm pavilions.
He couldn't manage everything, nor did he want to.
The only things he could manage were the injustices he saw before his very eyes.
Ye Zhibai, on the other hand, several times wanted to dismount and give away some dry rations, but Chen Zui stopped her.
“You can save them for a meal, but you can't save them for a lifetime.”
Chen Zui’s tone was very flat when he said this.
“Besides, you don’t have much food left either.”
Ye Zhibai remained silent for a while before finally stuffing the rations back into her bundle.
She knew Chen Zui was right.
But that didn't stop her heart from feeling heavy.
Her Frost-Sigh Sect prided itself on being a righteous sect, yet aside from cooperating with the imperial court to catch a few major bandits, they seemed unable to help anyone.
Meanwhile, A-Man sat on his horse, uncharacteristically quiet.
After leaving that small town, he had become noticeably less talkative.
Occasionally, a complex look would flash through his eyes.
Chen Zui noticed it but did not press him.
“Brother Chen, I have something to tell you.”
Chen Zui glanced at him.
“What’s wrong? Did your conscience finally kick in?”
A-Man gave a bitter smile and didn't respond. Instead, he walked to a secluded corner and waited for Chen Zui to follow before speaking in a low voice.
“My name isn't A-Man.”
“I know.”
“And I’m not just the son of some wealthy merchant.”
“I know that too.”
A-Man looked up, meeting Chen Zui’s eyes—eyes that seemed to see through everything. Suddenly, he felt that the secrets he had hidden for so long were like a thin sheet of paper before this man.
He took a deep breath and said word by word, “My surname is Xiao. My name is Xiao Chengyan. The current Emperor of the Grand Shuo Dynasty is my uncle.”
Even though Chen Zui was mentally prepared, he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at those words.
He had guessed the kid’s identity wasn't simple, but he hadn't expected it to be this significant.
A prince of the Grand Shuo Dynasty—that was genuine royalty.
But thinking about it, it made sense. If he weren't royalty, how could his life be worth so much experience?
And this, in turn, reminded Chen Zui of the female scholar back at the inn who had told him, “Where in life do we not meet again?”
Who exactly was she?
Could it be that they really would meet again?
“Hey, Brother Chen, are you even listening to me?!”
Xiao Chengyan, using the alias A-Man, was somewhat indignant. He had thought that revealing his identity would shock this man who remained unperturbed by everything.
To his surprise, this person didn't seem to take him seriously at all!
Chen Zui snapped back to the present and said, “So, how did a Prince like you end up as a beggar in Grand Zhao?”
“It wasn't by choice,” Xiao Chengyan said with a bitter smile. “My father said I was good for nothing, spending my days cockfighting and dog racing, without a shred of the Xiao family’s spirit. Three years ago, in a fit of rage, he threw me into Grand Zhao to experience the world.”
“And this is how you ended up?”
Chen Zui sized up his tattered clothes.
“I wouldn't call it 'ending up' like this; it's called keeping a low profile,” Xiao Chengyan said righteously.
“I never wanted to fight and kill anyway. What’s wrong with being an idle prince?
My father insisted I was worthless and forced me to practice martial arts.
But I feel sick the moment I see blades or spears, and I fall asleep as soon as I look at a military manual.
I just want to live a quiet life. Is that so wrong?”
Chen Zui took a sip from the wine flask at his waist and didn't reply.
“Three months ago, I received a letter from my father saying the three-year period was up and telling me to return.
But who knew I’d run into that Life-Severing Monk as soon as I reached the border?
It’s a good thing I met you, Brother Chen, or I never would have escaped him.”
Hearing this, Chen Zui looked at him and smiled.
“You’re quite interesting.
As a prince, you were willing to serve an evil monk just to stay alive.
If it were anyone else, even if they actually did it, they would never admit to it.”
Xiao Chengyan lowered his head and remained silent for a while.
“What use is pride? If you’re dead, everything is gone.”
Chen Zui frowned slightly. “Since you’re so afraid of death, why are you unwilling to practice martial arts?”
“I actually did practice.
I started my education at five, and by seven, I had entered the Knocking Realm.
My master said I had extraordinary talent, a martial arts prodigy seen only once in a century.
Back then, I loved practicing. I wanted to spend all day in the training grounds.
Even though my father didn't praise me out loud, I could tell he was happy.”
“And then?”
Ye Zhibai, who had arrived at some point, asked softly.
“And then...”
Xiao Chengyan closed his eyes, clenching his fists so hard his nails nearly dug into his palms.
“Then my mother died.”
Those words were spoken very softly, like a feather falling to the ground.
But in the ears of Ye Zhibai and Chen Zui, they were as heavy as a thousand jin.
“My mother was a Mohist disciple; she always advocated for Universal Love and Non-Aggression.
That year, I was eight.
She was ordered to a tribe to handle peace negotiations.”
The corners of Xiao Chengyan’s mouth twisted into a pained grimace.
“But in the end, she couldn't persuade them.
The peace talks were just a trap.
All twelve of her guards died in battle, and she... she died on the Gobi Desert too.
When the news reached the Royal Capital, it was the twenty-third day of the twelfth lunar month. The lanterns for the New Year were already being hung in the manor...”
“And your father?” Chen Zui asked.
“Father?”
A-Man let out a laugh, one filled with unmistakable hatred.
“You’ve probably heard of my father’s name.
He is one of the top ten experts in Grand Shuo, a man who ranks among the top twenty in the world.
But so what?
No matter how powerful he was, he couldn't protect my mother’s life.
By the time he rushed there, he couldn't even find all of her remains.
He didn't even... for the sake of some so-called royal order... seek revenge for my mother...”
He suddenly looked up, his eyes red but without tears.
“Brother Chen, you said earlier that a martial artist must not back down.
But since that day, I’ve been thinking: what is the point of practicing martial arts?
My father has peerless martial skills, yet he couldn't even protect his own wife.
My mother spent her life traveling, trying to use words to resolve conflict, but in the end, she died under the blade.
Tell me, which side is justice really on in this world?”
Chen Zui did not answer immediately. He remained silent for a long time before slowly speaking.
“What your mother did was not wrong. The martial arts your father practiced were not wrong either.”
A-Man stared at him blankly.
“What was wrong were those people who refused to listen to reason.”
Chen Zui’s voice wasn't loud, but each word struck the ground with weight.
“Your mother wanted fewer unreasonable people in this world, so your mother was remarkable.
Your father failed to protect her, and that is a debt he can never repay in his lifetime.
But that is not the fault of the martial path, and certainly not yours.”
“But I...”
“You think martial arts are useless because you’re afraid.”
Chen Zui interrupted him, his gaze sharp as a blade.
“You’re afraid that after gaining all that skill, you’ll end up just like your father, unable to protect those you want to protect.
So you’d rather not practice at all, rather be a beggar waiting for death, than face that possibility.”
Xiao Chengyan’s lips trembled.
“But you saw it today.”
Chen Zui’s voice softened slightly.
“That boy named A-Man—his father was just the last disciple of a declining sect. His martial arts weren't even a ten-thousandth of your father’s.
But he used the blade in his hand to protect the people of an entire town.”
A-Man looked up and met Chen Zui’s gaze.
“The height of one's martial path is never just about their realm.”
Chen Zui uncorked his wine flask and took a long drink.
“It also depends on who you point your blade at.
Your father pointed his, perhaps, at the top experts in the world.
But that child’s father pointed his at the enemies who bullied the weak.
You’ve been hiding for so many years because you’re afraid of following in your father’s footsteps and repeating his mistakes, aren't you?”
Chen Zui hung the flask back at his waist and suddenly smiled.
“But you’ve forgotten that there is more than one road in the martial world.
The people your mother wanted to protect, you can protect with a blade.
Different paths, same destination.
Just because your father couldn't protect someone doesn't mean you won't be able to.
You are not him. You haven't even tried yet; how do you know you can't do it?”
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