Chapter 126: The Rite of Vengeance

The next morning, the sky cleared, vast and cloudless. A gentle, warm breeze drifted through the sunlight, and in the mountains of April, all things were reborn as the peach blossoms bloomed in brilliant, vibrant profusion.

Hidden Sword Villa was nestled among waves of pink. Today was the inauguration ceremony for the villa's third master, Fat Mantis. While this ceremony was largely a formality, it was not without its benefits. At the very least, it drew the proprietors of the larger inns, pawnshop owners, pharmacy bosses, merchants, brothel madams, and various NPCs from Xie Family Post-Station. They came not only to express gratitude for the villa’s protection but also to memorize the face of the new master, lest they make a mistake in the future.

Although the reputation of Hidden Sword Villa had waned in recent years, guests still arrived from afar. Among them was Chen Guangxi, a nine-bag elder of the Beggar Sect’s Yuezhuang branch. Though his precious flower had been lost during the recent conflict between the two villas, the culprit had been identified. Shao Gong was currently on the Beggar Sect’s blacklist; unless a miracle occurred, he was likely preparing to delete his account and start anew, resigned to the bitter reality of life.

The group that had previously fled with the speed of rabbits had returned. Northern Motor, Brother Qiang of Zuo, Kiki, and Yun Hanying sat upright in the main hall, their faces glowing with health, their mouths filled with endless congratulations. Just days ago, they had treated Hidden Sword Villa like a plague, fearing entanglement. Now that the truth was out, the villa was safe, and a new master had been installed, it had once again become the place to be. Everyone scrambled to offer congratulations, hoping to bask in the auspicious atmosphere and show their faces.

Only Qi Shiqi sat alone in a neglected corner of the main hall, watching the coming and going of guests with a smile. Though he smiled, it was a look of profound loneliness and helplessness. Just days prior, he had been the master of this house; now, he was merely a spectator. Yet, one need not pity him or condemn those who chase power, for this is life—the life almost everyone leads. Life is full of ups and downs, stumbles and falls. When the fireworks fade, only darkness and solitude remain; when the curtain falls, the crowd disperses and the tea goes cold. If one understands and sees through this, life’s worries diminish, just as they had for Qi Shiqi. Though unaccustomed to his new station, he continued to smile, knowing that no matter how miserable or sad one feels, a smile is the fuel that keeps humanity moving forward.

Even when faced with the man approaching him now, he maintained his smile: "A distinguished guest has arrived. You are most welcome."

The visitor was none other than the White Horse Prince, whom Zhang He had killed at the Peony Pavilion just days before. Carrying the image of a wealthy, handsome aristocrat, he could not resist taking a jab at Qi Shiqi while offering his congratulations: "Protector Qi, you are too kind, far too kind, heh heh..." He intentionally dropped the title of "Young Master" in favor of "Protector," the mockery in his words plain to anyone with ears. Qi Shiqi smiled faintly, neither confirming nor denying the title.

The White Horse Prince then ascended the dais. There, he was joined by a burly man clad in tiger skin—another figure from the Peony Pavilion, Xiliang Xu, who had shot down Ma Junmei and Hua Feihong.

Together, they bowed. "Congratulations to Steward Mantis on your promotion to the third master of Hidden Sword Villa. We offer these thirty pieces of Level 25 rare-grade equipment to aid the villa’s prosperity and growth into a major martial arts sect. A small token of our esteem."

Xiliang Xu had every reason to curry favor with the villa. The Yangtze Thirty-Six Waterway Alliance was a Level 4 guild with over ten thousand members, and most of their armaments were purchased wholesale from Hidden Sword Villa at discounted rates. It was essential that he show his support.

The main hall was a hubbub of noise, bathed in brilliant light. Under the lamps, Fat Mantis, wearing the headband of a swordsman, a Kirin sword at his waist, and dressed in snow-white robes, smiled and returned the gesture: "Prince White Horse and Guild Leader Xiliang, you are both too kind. Please, take your seats."

The jovial, almost sycophantic Fat Mantis of the past was gone. Shedding the cautious, humble, and submissive demeanor he held as a steward, he now carried himself with the dignity, solemnity, and aloofness of a true villa master. This was the twenty-third group of guests he had received that morning. Though exhausted, he had to keep up appearances, his facial muscles stiff and aching from forced smiles. But he had to continue; he was the master now, and he could not slight a single guest.

Being the head of a sect was not as easy as it seemed. One understands the hollowness of such superficial etiquette, yet one cannot escape the face-saving demands of social convention. Having taken on the role of master, he had to play it through to the end, and play it well—this too was part of life.

"Perhaps this is what they call the trouble of happiness," Fat Mantis mused.

The hall bustled with activity, finally imbued with the warmth of human presence, giving it the faint atmosphere of a prestigious sect. In a moment of hazy distraction, a figure appeared at the main entrance. Seeing him, Chen Guangxi was the first to stand, and a warm, knowing smile touched Qi Shiqi’s lips.

Zhang He walked up, looking like a scholar headed to the capital for exams, carrying his luggage and swaying as he moved. He offered a long bow: "Congratulations to Villa Master Mantis on your successful inauguration."

Regardless of whether Fat Mantis was steward or master, those familiar with him rarely addressed him with the "Fat" prefix; only enemies or those who looked down on him did so. Fat Mantis stepped down to greet him: "Brother Wu, no need for such formalities. That there was a mole in our villa was only resolved thanks to your tireless efforts. I am deeply grateful."

Zhang He remained in his deep bow: "The Master has endured great hardship and humiliation, sharpening his sword for two years, and has now ascended to the throne. It is truly a cause for celebration."

These words carried significant weight. By intentionally mentioning "sharpening his sword for two years," he was letting Fat Mantis know that he, Zhang He, was no fool. Fat Mantis had deceived Jin Mailang, Qi Shiqi, and everyone else here, but he had not deceived Zhang He. He knew the truth.

Fat Mantis gripped his arm. "Brother Wu, such a grand gesture is more than I deserve. Please, rise and take your seat for tea."

Zhang He rose, but he did not move to his seat. Instead, he gripped Fat Mantis’s hand. The move was so fast it looked like a real battle, yet he maintained a smile, appearing no different from any other guest offering congratulations.

Zhang He laughed, "I admire the Master greatly and cannot help but wish to share a drink with you!"

Fat Mantis stiffened, then gripped Zhang He’s hand back with force. "Since Brother Wu is in such high spirits, I shall certainly drink with you until we are both intoxicated."

As soon as he finished, Zhang He felt a powerful force surging from the man’s palm into his own arm. Fat Mantis was secretly channeling his internal energy. In that moment, the noble, kindly villa master vanished, replaced by the sinister, calculating "Mysterious Man." His charming smile seemed to hide a streak of venomous cruelty, as if telling Zhang He: "So what if I did it? What can you do to me? Even if you tell them, will anyone here believe you?"

He was right. Even if Zhang He shouted the truth, the guests would likely find him ridiculous, a hopeless madman.

Zhang He knew this well. He suddenly channeled the power of his Initial Ascension realm and gripped back. The smile finally vanished from Fat Mantis's face. Zhang He’s foundation in the Initial Ascension realm was not shallow; no one could endure such a grip without losing their pleasant expression. His own smile now seemed to contain a trace of sharp anger, as if telling Fat Mantis: "Since you dared let me know all this, you should know that I will not be used as a pawn. Since you wanted to play a grand game, now that the game is over, it is time for me to put you in check."

Two forces of the Initial Ascension realm collided. Only two outcomes were possible: either Fat Mantis would be forced to show pain, or Zhang He would be forced to his knees. But before a hall full of distinguished guests, how could Fat Mantis lose face? And how could Zhang He ever kneel?

No one could force Zhang He to his knees—no one!

The conflict escalated in the shadows as both men simultaneously channeled the power of the Nourishing Realm and their inner energy. The forces clashed, spreading through their joined palms, causing red damage numbers—"-15", "-23", "-29"—to appear above their heads.

Most in the hall were unaware of what was happening, but Qi Shiqi and the more observant guests changed color, sensing something amiss. As the battle escalated further, the white jade floor tiles beneath their feet began to shatter under the intensity of their internal power.

Yet, neither would let go. It was not that they refused, but that they were trapped. Once their true energy was unleashed, whoever stopped first would be struck by the other’s follow-up, leading to a disastrous, passive defeat.

Their eyes bulged, their breathing grew labored, and their heartbeats quickened. Both were in agony. Whoever won this fight would pay a heavy price. Yet neither released his grip. Perhaps what kept Fat Mantis going was his pride—he could not lose face before his guests. And what kept Zhang He going was a fire—a surge of anger, blood, and courage. It was this spirit that allowed the weak to overcome the strong, the novice to topple the master.

Fat Mantis seemed not to have expected such stubbornness from Zhang He. He was just about to channel the power of the Subtle Transformation realm when a sudden change occurred. A sharp, violent palm wind descended from above, aimed directly at his crown.

Who? Who had the audacity to attack during the inauguration ceremony, disregarding all etiquette?