Chapter 59

Chapter 59: The Strange Old Man

Li Da Niu yanked off the black cloth covering the thief’s face.

Under it was an old face carved with deep grooves, so dark with grime it was hard to make out the original features.

The thief twisted free, covered his face with both hands, and dropped onto the field ridge, kicking and rolling like a child throwing a tantrum. “I can’t face anyone! I can’t face anyone!”

Su Xuan Ming ran over, panting. “Li Da Niu—do you know who this thief is?”

Li Da Niu’s mouth opened. “He is…”

The old man sprang up as if lightning had struck him. “I don’t change my name standing or sitting! I am the Daoist Yin Zheng Dao from Zhong Nan Mountain!”

Su Xuan Ming’s scalp prickled.

After dinner the other day, Mother had mentioned the Quan Zhen Sect on Zhong Nan Mountain—and a Daoist named Yin Zhi Ping, wicked to the core.

Second Brother Su Yun Ting had even concluded that Yin Zhi Ping must be Mother’s enemy.

Otherwise, how could Mother, so gentle and serene, hold such a grudge?

Su Xuan Ming stared at the old man. “Then who is Yin Zheng Ping to you?”

The old man’s body stiffened.

Wasn’t that a little too coincidental?

Was there really a Daoist with the surname Yin under Zhong Nan Mountain… and did this boy know him?

His eyes darted. He coughed twice, as if that could cover the scrambling in his mind. “He is my nephew from the main family.”

Su Xuan Ming froze as if struck by lightning.

An enemy had come for revenge.

“Oh my dear mother…” he breathed, then snapped into motion. “Li Da Niu! Hold onto this elder! I’m going to notify Mother!”

He tore across the frozen field, stumbling through weeds and furrows.

The old man clicked his tongue, shaking his head as he watched. “Unfilial child. Winter winds bite cold. Even if an honored guest comes to the door, you don’t go disturbing your own parents like that.”

Then he turned to Li Da Niu, voice suddenly eager. “Who is your young master’s mother?”

Li Da Niu answered flatly, “The Marchioness of Yong Chang, Gu Nan Xi.”

“What?!” The old man jolted like his backside had been scalded. He tried to bolt—

Li Da Niu caught him by the collar.

The old man’s legs churned furiously, but he didn’t move an inch.

Li Da Niu’s expression didn’t change, but suspicion flickered in his eyes. “Do you really know Yin Zhi Ping?”

The old man’s face twisted with indecision.

Should he know him… or shouldn’t he?

Meanwhile, dawn crept over the horizon. Su Xuan Ming burst back into Marquis Yong Chang Manor like a storm.

“Mother! Mother! This is bad—an enemy has come for revenge!”

The shout—panicked, and somehow thrilled—woke the entire manor.

“Who?” Su Yun Ting demanded, charging out first with his clothes half on. His hair was a disaster, his cheeks flushed, and he hadn’t even had time to wipe off the face powder he never went without.

Su Xuan Ming’s eyes gleamed bright as morning. “Yin Zhi Ping… his uncle from the main family.”

Gu Nan Xi, jolted awake mid-packing—two whole bundles of gold, silver, and jewelry already tied up—looked like her soul was trying to climb out of her body.

“Kind Mother System, get out here!” she hissed. “Damn it—Old Two wants to roam the martial world. Is it the real martial world, where people slaughter families like cutting melons, or is it the Jin Yong version where one person can fight an army?!”

Was this even survivable?

She touched her own neck and had the sudden, unpleasant feeling that what sat on top wasn’t particularly secure.

Kind Mother System sounded like its CPU was about to smoke. “…Stop shouting. The original novel never mentioned this! What the hell is going on? Could the thief master who killed Su Yun Ting have another identity? Did your Marquis Yong Chang Manor break the law with martial arts?”

Gu Nan Xi went stiff—pure statue.

Su Xuan Ming and Su Yun Ting each grabbed an arm and hauled her into the carriage like she weighed nothing.

Su Yun Yan followed close behind. “Don’t rush. Mother hasn’t even had breakfast yet. I’ll bring some snacks.”

Marquis Yong Chang’s carriage, no matter how low-profile it tried to be, still drew eyes like a magnet. In Capital, only the imperial carriage was more attention-grabbing.

Behind them, where Su Xuan Ming didn’t notice, a small group tailed them at a careful distance.

The world was still damp with dawn when they reached the academy’s outskirts. Mist lay over the plains, carrying the scent of cold earth and wet clay.

As the carriage crossed into the Hundred Rivers Academy area, a red sun slowly climbed the hillside and rose in the east.

In that five-colored light, the academy looked almost unreal—standing upright in the glow, radiating a strange, solemn presence.

Song Da, following behind, swallowed hard. His knees shook. “Let’s stop here,” he whispered. “A place like this… mortals like us can’t enter.”

The others agreed at once, relief written all over their faces.

Back inside, Li Da Niu worried the thief would freeze and ruin the interrogation, so he brought the old man into the academy proper.

The moment the old man stepped inside, he seemed to transform.

He touched this and that, eyes bright, hands restless. When his fingers brushed a set of carved scratches on a pillar, his face crumpled. He laughed and cried at once. “Still here… still here! You remembered. You really remembered!”

Li Da Niu boiled water and drank a huge gulp as if it could chase the cold from his bones. “Old man, who are you really? Stop spewing nonsense about Zhong Nan Mountain. The former dynasty believed in Buddhism. There haven’t been other sects under Zhong Nan Mountain for a long time.”

Tears blurred the old man’s eyes, but what shone behind them was sharp—worn down and honed by years. “Then who are you? When you caught me, you used the Gu Family Army’s joint-locking technique. You’re in Capital, yet you know Zhong Nan Mountain’s affairs so well.”

Li Da Niu went still.

For a long moment, neither man spoke.

Only the copper kettle hanging over the fire broke the silence, bubbling steadily.

Then the courtyard gate slammed open.

“Yin Zheng Dao!” Su Xuan Ming shouted, practically tripping over his own feet. “My mother is here!”

The old man’s tangled beard trembled. He looked like he wanted to hide—and like he knew hiding would only make him look guilty.

Gu Nan Xi stepped in and stared at him without blinking.

His hair was a mess, his beard long and wild. His robe was so dirty that only traces of its original white remained.

A free, unrestrained air clung to him—reckless, shameless, impossible to pin down.

So this was what a martial arts master looked like.

Gu Nan Xi opened her mouth, voice hesitant. “Elder, you look like you…”

Like you desperately needed a wash and a full meal.

Before she could finish, the old man turned his head away, refusing her gaze. “There are countless people in the world. There will always be one or two who resemble each other. Marchioness, you’ve mistaken me.”

Gu Nan Xi’s eyes darkened.

People only said that when they weren’t mistaken at all.

She drew out a handkerchief and dabbed at the corner of her eye, forcing her voice to tremble. “You left for so many years. Where did you go?”

The old man said nothing. He only sighed—once, then again, heavier.

Gu Nan Xi held out a bowl of hot water. “Why put yourself through this? You’ve suffered.”

The old man accepted it at last, drinking in small sips as if the heat might steady him. “The hardest matters under heaven turn into a thousand knots in the belly,” he murmured. “Nan Xi… I had my reasons.”

Gu Nan Xi’s tears fell with a soft pat.

Who would hide their name and suffer more than ten years, and then—at one sentence—let their mask slip?

Who would endure that long, gather strength in silence, and still return to say they were sorry?

Eliminate every answer, and the one that seemed most impossible was the truth.

Gu Nan Xi dropped to her knees.

“Father,” she choked, tears shining in her eyes. “You’ve suffered.”