Ye Wenmao rushed into the house and saw the unconscious young man lying in a pool of blood. His body swayed violently, and he roared in anguish, "My son—!"
He rushed over and hugged the man tightly, covering his wounds and sealing his acupoints. He whimpered and made a series of mournful noises, tears streaming down his face.
"My son... you've suffered so much!" Ye Wenmao gently stroked the face of the man in his arms, afraid to shake him awake. But when he thought of that name, his bloodshot eyes suddenly revealed a violent ferocity. The tenderness in his eyes was completely replaced by deep resentment, and when he uttered those three words, his gums almost shattered.
"Song Huiya—!"
Song Huiya deliberately led people to the East Market of the city, killing and stopping in full view of everyone, coming and going, going and returning.
It wasn't about reasoning with them—it was simply about showing the people of the city that Ye Guanda's life or death was entirely in her hands.
In this Broken Goose City, Song Huiya's word was law.
The street, separated by only a wall, was packed with onlookers. Their faces, weary and numb, held a look of astonishment never before seen, staring intently at the scattered bloodstains on the ground. Perhaps they were trying to glean something from the still-wet bloodstains, or from the faces of their companions.
The severed arm, thrown into a desolate alley, rolled in the mud and weeds before being snatched away by wild dogs. When the disciples pushed through the crowd, chasing a pack of frenzied dogs for three blocks to retrieve the limb, most of the flesh had already been devoured.
The disciples wrapped it tightly in layers of white cloth before nervously presenting it to Ye Wenmao.
By this time, Song Huiya had already returned to Kite Alley. The cataclysmic events within the Broken Goose Sect were entirely irrelevant to her.
When she pushed open the door and went in, Song Zhiqie, the usually opportunistic little girl, was unusually attentive to Bei Tu, serving him hand and foot. One moment she was massaging his legs, the next she was taking out a wooden comb to comb his hair. Bei Tu, of course, wouldn't accept it. With only a few hairs left on his head, he waved her away.
Fortunately, Song Huiya arrived in time. As soon as Song Zhiqie saw her, she rushed up and started boasting: "Master, you don't know how powerful my grandfather was today! With two powerful punches, he sent people flying as high as the roof! There was a bunch of cowards three zhang away on the other side, and they were so scared that they all knelt down and begged my grandfather for mercy, crying and bowing, and finally barking like dogs, rolling and crawling on the ground."
She was always talking nonsense, and she liked to make things up halfway through her sentences, exaggerating to the extreme.
Bei Tu had initially thought this little monkey was too frivolous and unreliable, but her flattery was truly delightful. For a moment, he even thought her sharp tongue might be a virtue.
Sweet words are indeed the most persuasive.
Song Zhiqie had been flattering her all afternoon and was running out of things to say. Her throat was dry and hoarse, not as clear as before. She coughed, picked up the kettle of boiled water, and poured a cup for Song Huiya and Bei Tu respectively. Still flustered, she cheerfully said, "Master, my dear grandfather, come and drink some hot water!"
She'd never received such treatment before!
Bei Tu calmly took the water cup, blew on the scalding water, opened his eyes, and asked Song Huiya, "Covered in blood, how many people did you kill?"
Song Huiya sank into the recliner, her body weak and limp, her eyes closed, unwilling to move. She said, "I didn't kill anyone. But Ye Wenmao repeatedly underestimated me, so I went to show his son my sword beforehand, as he requested."
She had killed many because of her superior swordsmanship. She probably lived long because of her excellent lightness skill and speed.
Taking the head of an enemy from among hundreds was her forte. Ye Wenmao had sent a whole army of weaklings outside, but their defense was as flimsy as paper, unable to withstand a single blow from her. What use were they?
They were a mixed bag, not a single one of them truly outstanding. They only appeared numerous and powerful, but were actually a hindrance, blocking their own path.
Song Zhiqie leaned against the table, listening with awe, her eyes shining, not wanting to miss a single word. If one didn't know her master's character, one would only think that Song Huiya had also learned the skill of spouting nonsense from her.
"So many people couldn't stop Master?" Song Zhiqie glanced at Bei Tu, thinking that he wasn't that powerful after all.
Song Huiya continued, seemingly unsatisfied, "It's hard to say what martial arts talent is in this world. Those good-for-nothing disciples of the Broken Goose Sect have mostly been thinking about forming cliques and eliminating dissidents these past two years, and haven't been practicing their martial arts properly. If their skills were up to this point—"
Song Huiya gestured to her waist, then raised her hand, turning upwards.
"Well, me..."
Song Zhiqie thought she was referring to the rooftop or the treetops, but to her surprise, she pointed directly to the top of her head and said shamelessly, "As high as the sun."
Song Zhiqie: "..."
Her master was so shameless, it was truly...
"You're amazing, Master!" Song Zhiqie exclaimed obsequiously, jumping up and clapping, "They can only see the tip of your fingernail!"
Song Huiya couldn't be modest, so she took a sip of water from her teacup and nodded in agreement, "Pretty much."
Song Zhiqie jumped around, busy as could be. Before they knew it, dusk had fallen.
A thin layer of mist shrouded the high mountains, the sunset was fading, and fallen leaves covered the streets.
At an inconspicuous stall on the east side of town, an old man and his apprentice, carrying their belongings, were eating by the roadside.
The boy had delicate and fair features, but his eyes were somewhat dull, and he kept sniffling. Listening to the nearby tables of customers enthusiastically discussing the legendary swordsman who had appeared in the market that morning, the young man asked, puzzled, "Master, if Song Huiya wanted to kill, why did she give them three days after three days? Was it to avenge her master and deliberately torture them?"
He rubbed two fingers together, smiling smugly, "Or is she, like us, planning to find an opportunity to ask them for money?"
The old man in the scholar's robe tapped the young man's head with his knuckles, trying to help his disciple's blockhead understand, and said earnestly, "Use your brain to think carefully. Do you think these three days were for Ye Wenmao and his son to ponder? They were for the remaining righteous and insightful people in this city."
The young man winced, rubbing his forehead, and said, "Master, you've known her for many years. What kind of person is she?"
The old scholar shook his head and said, "She's someone who only talks about small principles."
The young man asked seriously, "What are small principles?"
"The principles of being a person."
"Huh?" The young man was utterly bewildered. "Is being a good person considered a trivial principle?! Even sages only guide people towards goodness, to be good people, right?!"
The old scholar pondered, "In their eyes, yes. Perhaps they stand too high, seeing those below as a dense mass of gravel, too painful to step on, so they think trivial principles are unimportant."
The apprentice wiped his nose and chuckled naively, "Then she's actually quite a good person."
The old scholar laughed loudly, "Haha, many people in the world say that about her. But there are also quite a few who criticize her. In all the places she's been over the years, she's met with mixed reviews."
"Let's go, time to collect the money." The old man casually pulled out some silver coins from his pocket and slapped them on the table. "Shopkeeper, the bill please."
The stall owner picked up the loose silver and hurriedly chased after him, calling out, "Too much, sir!"
The old man, carrying his medicine box, waved his hand and said, "Today the God of Wealth has graced our door, so the extra is yours!"
The two walked unhurriedly toward the Ye residence. After being announced by the gatekeeper, they entered the front courtyard.
Just as they passed through a series of well-arranged pavilions and waterside terraces, Ye Wenmao hurriedly came from the corridor, stretching out his hands towards them from afar and shouting, "Divine Physician Zhou!"
He was disheveled and dressed in rough clothes, his blood-stained garments still unchanged. He seemed to have aged more than ten years in a single day, a far cry from his previous spirited demeanor.
Ye Wenmao firmly grasped the old scholar's hand, half-inviting and half-dragging him into the inner room.
The old scholar hurriedly said, "I'm an old man, no rushing."
Before he even stepped into the house, he could already hear Ye Guanda's wailing and cursing: "I'm going to kill Song Huiya—I must kill that bitch!"
Ye Wenmao's eyes also welled up with tears, his heart aching as he said, "Son, I know you're wronged, I know."
"Father, I was wrong..." Ye Guanda's expression shifted between agony, madness, sobbing, and screaming, his only remaining hand gripping his father tightly, like a demon crawling out of the underworld. "I should have killed her sooner! We should have killed her together when we were at Nameless Cliff!"
"Alright, alright." Ye Wenmao pressed his chest, trying his best to calm him down.
The old scholar silently stepped forward, opened his medicine box, and took out silver needles.
Seeing his expression, Ye Wenmao hurriedly instructed, "Dr. Zhou, be gentle!"
The old scholar nodded kindly, "Of course, of course."
With his reputation, Ye Guanda dared not go mad again and lay down obediently.
Ye Wenmao dismissed the servants, turned his face away, unable to bear looking at his son's injuries. After his grief subsided, he said thoughtfully, "I will send you out of Broken Goose City tomorrow morning."
"What?" Ye Guanda shouted in frustration, "Are we just going to let it go like that?!"
"There are no experts in Broken Goose City who can stop Song Huiya. You are seriously injured, and I cannot protect you. If she is determined to kill someone, even someone like Xie Zhongchu would have to keep his distance. Why are you asking for trouble? Haven't you learned your lesson from how fast her swordsmanship was that day?" Ye Wenmao's face trembled with excitement. "She is not even human!"
The old scholar nodded secretly.
Ye Wenmao, adjusting his breathing, explained, "If I escort you out of the city, Song Huiya will definitely pursue you. She's always been arrogant and a woman of her word. I've already invited a few old friends from the martial arts world—although they won't reach Broken Goose within three days, they can meet you halfway. I'll also let you take all the masters from my sect with you. If Song Huiya backs down, I'll consider other options. If she insists on digging her own grave, I'll make her pay for her crimes in blood!"
Ye Guanda, his heart surging, cruelly laughed, "Good! Good!! Once I catch her, I'll make her wish she were dead!"
Thoughts on Chap 23:
It showcases Song Huiya's brutal efficiency and psychological warfare tactics. After severing Ye Guanda's arm in a public spectacle at the East Market, she returns home as if nothing happened, leaving the Ye family to deal with the aftermath (including disciples chasing wild dogs to retrieve the partially-eaten severed limb—a darkly vivid detail). The contrast is stark: while Ye Wenmao grieves over his mutilated son, Song Huiya relaxes in her chair being fawned over by her student Song Zhiqie, who's discovered that flattery opens doors. Song Huiya's shameless arrogance ("as high as the sun") is both comedic and intimidating.
The old scholar's conversation with his apprentice provides crucial insight: Song Huiya gave three days not to torture the Ye family, but to allow "the remaining righteous and insightful people in this city" time to act—she's forcing the community to choose sides. The scholar's assessment that she "only talks about small principles" (the principles of being a person) suggests she operates on human-level morality rather than grand philosophical concepts. It ends with Ye Wenmao's desperate plan to evacuate his son, acknowledging Song Huiya as an unstoppable force ("not even human") while plotting ambush with martial arts allies. The three-day countdown creates mounting tension.
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