Within Rongchu City, orthodox martial arts arenas only accepted disciples of the ‘Upper Three Roads,’ meaning during a fight, one could only target an opponent’s eyes, nose, ears—areas above the chest.
This fighting style temporarily disabled the opponent but wasn’t fatal.
But the Black Market Martial Arts Arena’s ‘Lower Three Roads’ targeted the most vulnerable abdomen, legs, and waist, each move sinister and vicious. The light outcome was disability; the severe was death.
Even with such danger, people still willingly signed the life-and-death waiver to compete, just for a chance to win the audience’s gambling money.
It was said that once the golden bell in the Black Martial Arts Arena rang, within a single shichen, the prize pool could reach tens of millions in gold.
Only the person alive at the very end could take all that money into their arms.
Noticing Madam Huo’s gaze, Pei Lianyi, through his clothes, pressed a hand over the pearl on his chest. His face gradually paled. A layer of gray dimness settled over his fine eyelids.
Of course I know, but that’s blood money earned by selling your life. Besides, how could that money be enough?
Master Pei need not worry; this humble one has his own clever plans.
Remembering the words they exchanged on the roadside that night of the auction banquet, the young man’s star-bright, dark eyes, his heart ached as if being gouged.
Huo Jingzhao, so this was your “clever plan”?! You risk your life for me time and again. How do you expect me to handle this…?
In an instant, Pei Lianyi dazedly realized that between him and Huo Jingzhao, the gap was more than just status and seniority—there were still many chasms difficult to bridge.
“The Black Market Martial Arts Arena… that place seems to be under Old Master Leng’s territory,” Cao Xian suddenly remarked coolly from the side.
Madam Huo tearfully nodded: “That’s right. Young Master Leng is also there.”
Seeing her apprehensive expression, it was clear this matter was likely inseparable from Leng Huan.
Leng Yuechuan thought to himself: Good heavens, instead of making amends, my offenses have only grown a level worse!
“Master Pei, there must be some misunderstanding…”
“I’m going to find Jingzhao… I have to find him!”
Leng Yuechuan stiffened his old face, about to say it was probably a misunderstanding, but Pei Ziying shrilly cut him off and dashed out of the hall as if he had lost his soul.
“Ziying… Ziying, stop!” Seeing his son staggering away, Pei Lianyi was inwardly startled and immediately ordered Cao Xian to prepare a sedan chair to head to the Black Market.
Cao Xian didn’t dare delay a moment and quickly summoned the manor guards to escort the Master and Little Young Master out.
The Black Market was located at the edge of Rongchu City. Just as its name implied, it was filled with filth and chaos, a place even the local authorities found extremely difficult to set foot in.
Inside the Black Market, no one asked origins or destinations. Various gambling dens, brothels, and Post Stations gathered desperate fugitives. Most people lived on the edge of a knife… running and jumping today, a broken rib tomorrow for a bite of food.
Since the Leng family took over part of this area, the death toll only increased.
Especially high was the number of people carried out from the Blood Prison Cage of the Black Martial Arts Arena.
Right now, the arena was packed with people. The air was thick with the smell of rust, male sweat, and viscous bone fluid.
A crude arena stage was fitted with an iron-barred cage. As the men inside fought, the cage edges gradually twisted, occasionally spraying copious amounts of blood.
When blood splattered on them, the spectators below the stage didn’t dodge. Instead, they grew more excited, shouting slogans of “Fight— Fight—!”
Behind them, the prize pool beneath the golden bell had already overflowed with crimson gold.
“That kid really can fight. He’s the most capable fighter I’ve seen since arriving here twenty-some years ago…”
“It’s the final match. Do we bet on him winning, or on the Fist King from Nan’an?”
“Don’t rush, let’s watch a bit more!”
The man everyone was talking about wore a black shirt with dark-gold bracers on both wrists and cloud-climbing boots. The fabric looked ordinary, but it perfectly complemented his lean, powerful physique. His solid legs and arms were like electrified whips, too fast to capture with the naked eye.
He stood in the center of the arena, indifferently watching the unconscious figure at his feet—wrists and legs snapped—a barely audible “tch tch” laugh escaping his lips.
“So you’re the winner of this year’s Dragon Boat Festival?” Bu Liuan, the Fist King of Nan’an, stepped onto the arena, eyeing the peerlessly handsome man before him with a soft laugh.
Huo Jingzhao didn’t say a word. He aimed for Bu Liuan’s abdomen and threw a punch.
Bu Liuan immediately dodged out of the way: “What’s your hurry?!”
He evaded quickly. The punch slammed into the iron cage bars, hammering a deep dent into the black metal and making the man’s bones emit a resounding crack.
“…”
Yet Huo Jingzhao seemed to feel no pain. His face was like it had been dipped in ice, devoid of any ripple or anything that could be called “human” emotion.
Today, he had gone to one of the Pei family’s restaurants to collect debts and happened to run into Leng Huan.
“Ha, and who do we have here? Isn’t this Master Pei’s esteemed son-in-law?” Leng Huan put down his chopsticks and spoke in a flat, unimpressed tone: “How come you’ve been ordered around to do the work of oxen and horses?”
Huo Jingzhao curved his lips into a smile: “If Young Master Leng feels his other leg is also in the way, this humble one is happy to oblige.”
“You—! You poor, lowlife brat! What did you say?!”
Having his leg broken by an unknown person in the dead of night had always been the pain of all pains for Leng Huan. Having Huo Jingzhao publicly expose it now, he practically roared: “You pauper— Ah—!!”
Huo Jingzhao hadn’t intended to hit him. But by the time he registered what was happening, he already had the man pinned to the ground.
Leng Huan lay on the floor, shrieking miserably, his fingers nearly crushed to pulp under the other’s foot.
Huo Jingzhao spread his palms. His expression was extremely ugly.
Before, when he went berserk and then regained calm, he would more or less remember some fragments.
Fallen trees ripped up by roots… the snow-white deer… reef rocks that could shred flesh…
But just now, his mind had been utterly blank.
This meant he had reached his limit.
My little Young Sect Master, if you don’t want to rely on the Red Pill, then vent it all yourself…
What you need is more hatred, more rage—
The words that person had uttered over a decade ago still echoed in his ears. Huo Jingzhao let out a low “tch.”
He crouched down, grinned at Leng Huan, squinting his eyes: “Would Young Master Leng happen to know of any place nearby where I could exercise my hands and feet?”
Leng Huan was utterly dumbfounded. The man before him was still clearly the same pauper, the most inconspicuous block of wood in the academy corner, a live-in son-in-law unfit for refined company.
But how could this face, these eyes, these subtle changes in his features evoke such a terrifying chill, even an urge to kneel…?!
“Of… of course there is.” He forced a smile through the pain of his shattered hand bones: “Not only can you fight, you can even make money.”
“You… are pretty short on money, huh?”
“Yes.” Huo Jingzhao’s ghastly white teeth peeked from his mouth.
And so, Leng Huan led him to the Black Market Martial Arts Arena.
The Black Martial Arts Arena hid dragons and crouching tigers. The original plan was to teach this lowlife pauper a lesson.
But the man entering the Blood Prison Cage was clearly enjoying himself.
Snapping bones, tearing Meridians, dislocating jaws—compared to “Lower Body Attacks,” Huo Jingzhao fought with extreme elegance, and extreme ruthlessness.
In the time it took to burn one stick of incense, he had already broken through to the final level.
Bu Liuan sensed something was wrong and hurriedly focused on the battle.
But the man in front of him was too fast. He couldn’t pinpoint the style of martial arts Huo Jingzhao practiced. Yet he seemed to hear strange “clack,” “snap” sounds coming from inside the man’s body.
The noise sounded like blood burning, like bones grinding out of place…
As the renowned Fist King of Nan’an City, this was the first time he’d faced such a troublesome opponent.
Before long, he was starting to lose his stamina, his bruised face covered in blood.
Huo Jingzhao flexed his already fractured hand bones, about to strike the retreating Bu Liuan again, when a shriek suddenly erupted from below the stage.
“This is bad, Master Pei is here—!”
Hearing that form of address, Huo Jingzhao’s expression went blank. His chest felt tight and suffocated.
Seeing the stately sedan chair speeding towards the arena, the arena instantly fell silent. People hurriedly parted to form a wide path.
Even in this lawless zone where black and white blurred, the name Pei Manor was soul-shaking.
Bu Liuan, desperate to win, seized the moment. He rushed forward, swung his arm, leaped into the air, and threw a cold fist straight at Huo Jingzhao’s heart meridian.
Even though Huo Jingzhao reacted swiftly, the all-out strike still grazed his right arm.
Clutching his bleeding arm, Huo Jingzhao let out a leisurely smile and said arrogantly: “You’re trying hard, but against me, it’s like an egg hitting a rock.”
Bu Liuan’s pupils constricted. A chilling cold rose from his feet. His limbs felt paralyzed, rooted to the spot by a single look from the man.
After that last exchange, his internal organs felt nearly shattered.
But what was with the man opposite him? Not only was he unharmed, did he not even feel pain?! What kind of monster’s physique and constitution was this…
Huo Jingzhao only wanted to clean up the mess before Pei Lianyi arrived. He advanced step by step towards Bu Liuan, who was already a spent force.
Just as he was about to strike, a childish cry erupted from below the stage.
“Big Brother, you can’t lose—!” The child wailed at Bu Liuan.
Huo Jingzhao’s whole body went rigid. He turned his head with a grinding motion to look at the child below the stage. Both his ears suddenly went deaf.
Damn…!! The black-robed man watching the excitement from a corner below the stage changed color, inwardly cursing.
“Young Sect Master…”
“Wait!”
Sang Sha wanted to go over and take him away but was blocked by Shi Wuya.
He understood in his heart: going over now would only expose their identities and ruin the grand plan.
“Big Brother, get up… get up quickly—” Below the stage, the child in simple clothes, pale and thin, was still crying out. The scene seemed to overlap with something in memory.
Big Brother, don’t lose to them!
Big Brother, Lian’er and I love Big Brother the most…
The whites of Huo Jingzhao’s eyes abruptly flooded with eerie crimson. He stood motionless, his handsome face as if buried in gray, dusty earth.
The lotus left the country a thousand years ago; after the rain, the scent still carries iron.
Jingzhao, you are the eldest brother. You should pick the names for your younger brother and sister.
Years ago, in the early clear sky after summer rain, a young boy walked into the damp firewood shed. Looking at the two infants in the woman’s arms, he softly recited:
Huo Lian, Huo Hua…
Great! Lotus and Steed, truly excellent names!
I’ve become the eldest brother? The boy’s face was full of confusion, mixed with worry and a faint joy.
The eldest brother is like a father. Jingzhao, from now on, you will be the strict yet reassuring big brother, the woman said with a smile.
Watching the frail infants in the swaddling clothes, the boy clenched his fists and solemnly promised: I will definitely take good care of them, raise them well.
……
His train of thought snapped. The alternating cold and searing pain struck straight to his heart. The clarity and reason he had just regained vanished completely. Huo Jingzhao clutched his chest, trembling. The bloodstain spread across his chest, and he could barely stand straight.
“Jingzhao—! Stop! No one touch him…!” At this moment, Pei Ziying’s heart-wrenching shout came from below the stage.
Huo Jingzhao turned his head. Past Pei Ziying, his eyes met a pair of soul-stirring autumn-water pupils.
His eyes nearly split with fury, and he suddenly spat out a mouthful of blood.
