Chapter 17: Xin Mi

“How could you possibly know?”
The man lay cradled in the woman’s arms, foam flecking his lips, his face pale as gold leaf.
The woman’s expression changed at the mention of “Winged Bat King Wei Yixiao,” and she stared in disbelief.
“This Cold Ice Palm is the unique martial art of Winged Bat King Wei Yixiao, one of the Four Great Guardians of the Ming Sect. Are you members of the Ming Sect?” Yuan Ye pressed further.
The man and woman exchanged a furtive glance but gave no answer.
Yet from their expressions, Yuan Ye had already deduced their close association with Wei Yixiao—if not his subordinates, then surely his disciples.
“To fall into your hands today, young hero, is simply our misfortune,” the man wiped blood from the corner of his mouth, managing a bitter smile.
He then turned his gaze to Master Ling, who held the little girl, and with a hoarse shout, roared, “What pains me most is that I cannot personally kill you, you old villain!”
The deep-seated hatred in his eyes as he glared at Master Ling convinced Yuan Ye that these two had indeed come to avenge old wrongs.
“Master Ling, do you recognize them?”
Yuan Ye turned to look at Master Ling, his question hanging in the air.
Since receiving the little girl, Master Ling had been carefully examining her condition. Now the child clung tightly to his neck, silent, her eyes filled with terror—no longer the vacant gaze she’d worn before.
At Yuan Ye’s words, Master Ling paused, staring at the two assassins as if lost in memory.
“You are the two children who were sent away all those years ago, aren’t you?” After a long moment, he spoke in a low voice.
“Old villain, so you still remember us siblings. We have thought of you every day and night these many years,” the woman replied, her voice calm, but the bitterness and venom within were unmistakably deep.
“Haha…”
Master Ling’s laughter was low and desolate.
“Since you brought Jia’er here, I suppose my wife and Jia’er’s mother have already fallen to your cruelty,” he said, his voice mournful after a few chuckles.
“Old villain, you ruined my family, betrayed my father, and the Xia clan was massacred. Now you will taste the same suffering,” the man sneered.
“Your father was my dearest friend! How could I ever wish to betray him? But the lives of my entire family were in the hands of that corrupt official. I… I…” Master Ling sobbed, unable to finish.
“Haha! So your entire family’s survival justified sending the Xia clan to their deaths?” the man shouted.
“Now, my family has only this single descendant left. What meaning is there in these words?” Master Ling wept bitterly, unable to speak through his tears.
The Xia siblings were silent, lost in thought.

After a long while, Master Ling suddenly lifted his head and said, “Young hero Yuan, may I ask something of you?”
“Please speak, Master Ling,” Yuan Ye replied.
“This child’s life has been fraught with hardship; she has been frail and sickly since birth, and now has lost her parents. I beg you, young hero, bring her to Mount Wudang and entrust her to my eldest daughter,” Master Ling looked at his granddaughter in his arms, tears streaming down his face.
“Rest assured, Master Ling. I will deliver Miss Ling to Mount Wudang and into my sister-in-law’s care,” Yuan Ye answered solemnly.
“Thank you, young hero,” Master Ling murmured in a low voice.
Suddenly, Yuan Ye’s expression changed. He thought to himself, “This is bad.”
He quickly lifted the little girl from Master Ling’s arms. Glancing back, he saw a vast red stain spreading across Master Ling’s chest—a dagger had been plunged straight into his heart, blood spurting forth.
Master Ling, upon learning that his wife and daughter-in-law had been murdered, and with his son slain just the day before, had resolved to die.
Even before asking Yuan Ye to escort his granddaughter to Mount Wudang, he had quietly stabbed himself with the dagger he’d hidden in his robes.
As Yuan Ye took the little girl away, Master Ling’s breath was already faint.
Cough… cough…
He spat out a mouthful of blood, and with a final surge of clarity, looked at the Xia siblings and managed a wan smile. “Now, my life is repaid to you. From this day, our families owe each other nothing. Ha ha ha…”
As Master Ling closed his eyes in laughter and passed away, Yuan Ye felt a sudden, overwhelming sense of confusion.
“You old fool, you…” The man’s eyes bulged with rage, but before he could finish, he too died, his eyes wide open in disbelief that Master Ling had died so simply.
His attempt to ambush Yuan Ye with the palm strike had failed, for Yuan Ye’s inner force countered the Cold Ice Palm, and the backlash had severed his heart’s vessels.
He had been holding on with sheer willpower, but now, seeing Master Ling die before him, he could no longer endure.
The woman held her brother, feeling his body grow cold, his breath fade, unable even to cry, sitting on the ground with hollow eyes, as though her soul had departed with him.
“Grandfather, grandfather…”
Suddenly, a cry shattered the silence of the courtyard. The little girl stared blankly at Master Ling’s fallen body, then rushed forward, sobbing uncontrollably.
Yuan Ye had never imagined that his first act of heroism would end so bleakly.
In the end, the Xia woman carried her brother’s corpse and walked out of the Ling estate, vanishing without a trace. Yuan Ye did not stop her, letting her go.
The little girl cried until she fainted from exhaustion. Yuan Ye summoned a few loyal servants who had not fled, instructing them to prepare Master Ling’s body and send others to town to buy coffins.

Later, Yuan Ye recalled that Master Ling had spoken of his wife and daughter-in-law before his death, and sent servants to search for them. They found the bodies in the back courtyard.
Both had been decapitated; their bodies lay in the rooms, their heads tossed in the yard. Blood was pooled everywhere, the scene horrific and hellish.
Yuan Ye shuddered at the sight; the servant screamed and fled in terror.
Only then did Yuan Ye understand why the little girl had been so vacant at first.
To witness her grandmother and mother slaughtered so terribly—she was already strong for not having lost her mind.
Suppressing the nausea brought on by the stench of blood, Yuan Ye, with the help of two brave servants, prepared the bodies of Lady Ling and the daughter-in-law for burial.
He then instructed the guard who’d been posted at the gate to ride the estate’s swiftest horse to Mount Wudang and deliver the news.
He requested his elder brother Song Yuanqiao and his wife Ling to return, for Ling was the eldest daughter of this family, and Song Yuanqiao the son-in-law; only they could handle the Ling family’s final affairs.
By midnight, the Ling estate was still ablaze with lights. In the mourning hall, four coffins were arrayed in a row. The little girl, dressed in mourning, knelt silently at the head, burning paper offerings for her kin.
Yuan Ye stood nearby, his eyes stinging at the sight.
In his previous life, he had grown up in an orphanage, never knowing family, never experiencing the pain of losing loved ones.
Yet now, he truly felt the little girl’s sorrow and grief.
As dawn approached, only Yuan Ye and a few Ling servants kept vigil in the hall.
The little girl, having awakened during the night, knelt for hours in mourning until, overcome by grief and exhaustion, she fainted again.
Yuan Ye channeled his inner force to help her recover, then had the servants carry her to rest.
At cockcrow, several swift horses galloped into Shiyan town. Fortunately, the streets were empty in the dim light and no one was injured by their speed.
The three horses halted abruptly before the Ling estate’s west gate.
Three men leapt from their mounts and strode into the house.
Yuan Ye heard footsteps approaching the mourning hall. Turning, he saw his elder brother Song Yuanqiao had arrived, accompanied by his brothers Zhang Songxi and Yin Liting.