Chapter 74: A Fellow Master

Seventh day. Minor Heat.

Gu Xiaotian arranged this underworld contest at the villa in Huashui Bay. Perhaps it was age, but Gu Xiaotian had come to prefer tranquility, and even his villa was imbued with a cold, serene atmosphere.

Despite the uproar the contest had caused outside, it failed to bring much liveliness here. After all, few people were invited; an invitation from Gu Xiaotian was a rare honor, so possessing one of his invitation cards was a mark of prestige.

Yue Leiting attended to Lan Qing, always by her side. Lan Qing, who rarely ventured out, didn’t want to miss this rare event, especially since the contest revolved around the Five Taoist Arts—physiognomy, divination, mountain, fate, and magical combat—all arts with which she was intimately familiar. Those participating were renowned masters, and their exchanges promised to be a feast no one in the field would wish to miss.

Those arriving seemed to share some connection; Yue Leiting exchanged smiles and greetings with many, though I recognized none. I wondered why Gu Xiaotian insisted the contest be held at night. By eight o'clock, nearly everyone had arrived.

When Gu Xiaotian finally appeared, everyone stood. A cool night breeze swept through. Gu Xiaotian’s attire was casual, and though he wore a smile, the authority in his piercing gaze could not be concealed.

This former underground king, who had never lost to any opponent, was ultimately defeated by time. The cane in his hand and his slow steps made him appear much older, but his back remained straight as a drawn sword—though the handle might have decayed under the assault of years, none ever doubted the sharpness of its blade.

Yet my gaze was not fixed on Gu Xiaotian, but on the two people standing beside him.

“The man on the left is Kong Guan. Few know his real name; most call him Blind Kong.” Lan Qing slipped quietly next to me and whispered.

Kong Guan was not truly blind, but possessed only one eye—his right eye was an empty, pitch-black hollow, as unfathomable as the man himself.

“Aunt Lan, how did he lose his eye?” I asked, curiosity piqued.

“He dug it out himself.”

I stared at Lan Qing, dumbfounded. “He… he dug it out himself?”

“What kind of person does that? He’s not young—why self-mutilate, and of all things, his own eye?” Xiao Lianshan and Gu Anqi joined us, catching Lan Qing’s mention of Kong Guan.

“To gouge out one’s own eye, a person must either be sick or burdened by secrets. Such courage is rare.” Gu Anqi shot Xiao Lianshan a look as she spoke.

Lan Qing gestured for quiet, then explained softly.

“Uncle Gu rose from nothing to unify the underworld. You really think, as the rumors say, he did it single-handedly with a knife? What he is today, Kong Guan deserves the highest credit. If Uncle Gu is the underground king, Kong Guan is the iron pen judge.”

“Wow, so much prestige—Aunt Lan, tell us more about Kong Guan,” Xiao Lianshan said, amazed.

“Outside, people call him Blind Kong behind his back, but to his face, everyone calls him Uncle Kong, his rank equal to Uncle Gu. To be precise, Kong Guan is Uncle Gu’s strategist. He’s adept at divination, physiognomy, and predicting people’s fate. From Uncle Gu’s earliest days to unifying the underworld, he faced countless dangers—each time, with Kong Guan’s calculations, he survived unscathed. Uncle Gu owes much of his success to Kong Guan,” Lan Qing said respectfully.

“So he’s a senior in our field. With such a master by Uncle Gu’s side, it’s no wonder things run so smoothly,” I mused.

“Is he really so miraculous? If he can predict everything, how did he end up losing his own eye?” Xiao Lianshan frowned.

“Kong Guan has no descendants. No matter male or female, every child he had died young. He knew that revealing too many secrets would bring heaven’s wrath, but instead of retribution falling on him, it struck his children. He gouged out his own eye as a warning to the heavens, hoping to spare his family. Uncle Gu has always treated him with utmost respect and gratitude.”

The man standing on Gu Xiaotian’s other side seemed exceptionally silent. From the moment I saw him, he hadn’t uttered a word, always standing quietly. Yet even Yue Leiting and other top figures showed him extraordinary deference.

Anyone who stood beside Gu Xiaotian could hardly be ordinary.

“Aunt Lan, Kong Guan is on one side. Who’s the other man?” I asked.

“Wei Yu.”

“Why doesn’t he speak?” I smiled.

“Because he’s mute,” Lan Qing replied calmly.

“Uncle Gu surrounds himself with quite a cast—a blind man and a mute,” Xiao Lianshan chuckled.

“Wei Yu and Kong Guan are known outside as Heaven’s Mute and Earth’s Blind,” Lan Qing said solemnly.

Kong Guan’s abilities in divination and physiognomy were extraordinary, enough to help Gu Xiaotian unify the underworld. Yet between Heaven’s Mute and Earth’s Blind, heaven is revered, earth looks up—clearly, Heaven’s Mute is superior. I looked at Wei Yu, puzzled.

“Aunt Lan, what’s Wei Yu’s background?”

“Wei Yu is versed in geomancy, the mysteries of the void, and Taoist magic. He and Kong Guan are sworn brothers of Uncle Gu. I believe Yue Leiting has told you—Uncle Gu is said to have built his empire with a single knife, but in truth, that’s just legend. Wei Yu can summon spirit soldiers and invoke protective deities, which is why Uncle Gu never lost a battle.”

“To borrow the power of spirits and gods—amazing. I always wondered how one man could become the king of the underworld. Turns out, it’s thanks to someone as skilled in Taoist arts as Wei Yu,” I said, breathing deeply.

“Then… Aunt Lan, how did Wei Yu become mute?” Xiao Lianshan asked, intrigued.

“He cut out his own tongue.”

“What? Another act of self-mutilation?” Gu Anqi asked, nervous.

“Anyone who borrows the power of spirits must pay a price. But judging from Wei Yu’s features, he’s a solitary star, his fate is hard—retribution never falls on him, but those who benefit from him will suffer,” I said calmly.

“If the beneficiary suffers, brother, does that mean retribution will fall on Gu Xiaotian, not Wei Yu? Then why did Wei Yu cut out his tongue?” Xiao Lianshan asked, bewildered.

“How dense can you be? Calamity often comes from the mouth—Wei Yu spoke too much and endangered Gu Xiaotian. To protect him, he cut out his tongue,” Gu Anqi snapped. “Wei Yu’s fate is hard; since he bears the burden, Gu Xiaotian won’t suffer.”

“For Gu Xiaotian, he cut out his own tongue? Incredible loyalty,” Xiao Lianshan exclaimed after a long pause.

Lan Qing nodded, smiling serenely. “That’s why Uncle Gu repays their loyalty—now Wei Yu and Kong Guan stand as his equals. They’re rarely seen together; tonight, they’re both here to judge the contest.”

I wanted to ask more, but my smile froze, my expression growing serious as I stared at the entrance.

Su Lengyue and Miao Renhuan entered.

All night, I had waited for them—specifically, for the person representing Master Huang in the contest.

Three people entered: Su Lengyue and Miao Renhuan led, and the third drew my attention.

His movements were light and silent, every step slow but precisely equal, as if calculated with meticulous accuracy.

His measured pace—each step identical—suggested that everything was within his calculations. Anyone who could control even their stride surely left nothing beyond their grasp.

I had witnessed Su Lengyue’s dominance; even experts like Miao Renyu and Miao Renhuan submitted to her. Yet tonight, Su Lengyue was noticeably deferential, walking at the front but treading as if on thin ice. With someone who calculated every step behind her, no one would feel comfortable.

The contest didn’t officially begin until nine. Once everyone was present, Gu Xiaotian’s villa doors closed. Outside, over a hundred people stood in three layers, sealing the villa so tightly that not even a bird could slip through.

A full moon hung in the sky, its silvery light spreading gently over the vast courtyard. Though only a select few possessed Gu Xiaotian’s invitations—perhaps only eighty or so sat in the courtyard—the event was unprecedented for the underworld, and Gu Xiaotian had decorated the garden with utmost ceremony.

Ten tables were set for the banquet, five in each row; Gu Xiaotian’s table stood in the center. Each seat bore a name, and guests sat according to their assigned places. Only Gu Xiaotian’s table was spotless, occupied solely by him, Wei Yu, and Kong Guan—no one else.

Seventeen contestants participated. From Huo Qian’s information, three were particularly noteworthy.

The first was Song Hui, invited by the Yuzhou Gang. Huo Qian said Song Hui had studied Maoshan Taoist arts since childhood, mastering all Five Taoist Arts, with his expertise in Qimen Dunjia unmatched. The Yuzhou Gang’s recent growth owed much to him.

The second was Lu Yong. Even Yue Leiting was astonished by him, calling him Uncle Lu—a title reserved for few, much like the legendary Gu Xiaotian, whom he called Uncle Gu.

Yue Leiting told me Lu Yong’s reputation rivaled Gu Xiaotian’s. Strictly speaking, he wasn’t truly an underworld figure, but since the largest profit for Shaanxi gangs came from tomb raiding, Lu Yong—nicknamed Iron Mouth Lu—was invaluable. Nothing he predicted ever missed. When Gu Xiaotian was young, Lu Yong saw him for the first time and said, “At the hour of the pig, blood will flow and your face will be damaged.” Gu Xiaotian, then brash, dismissed it, but was ambushed at eleven that night. He escaped with his life, but a deep, bone-revealing scar was left on his left cheek. Since then, Gu Xiaotian deeply respected Uncle Lu.

The last was the man I saw walking behind Su Lengyue today—Ouyang Cuo. Even Huo Qian couldn’t uncover his background, but to represent Master Huang in the contest, his status and ability must surely surpass Su Lengyue.