Torrential rain poured down.

The sky seemed to have split open, unleashing a deluge.

Jin Fugui hung his head, rainwater streaming down his hair, his face pale as paper. He never imagined that, despite breaking through the Vitality Barrier, he’d still be no match for Xiangzi.

He struggled to rise, but his broken ribs sent piercing pain through him.

His short spear, snapped into two splintered pieces, lay in the muddy filth.

One punch broke a ox-tendon spear shaft?

The color drained further from Jin Fugui’s face.

Such strength could rival even the apprentices in a martial hall.

No—perhaps it surpassed even a newly minted ninth-rank outer disciple! This unthinkable scene left his eyes dazed.

Just months ago, Xiangzi was nothing but a scrawny third-rate rickshaw puller. How… how could he…

Urgent footsteps shattered the rain’s curtain—

Not only the night-watch guards from the East Wing but also Liu Tang and Uncle Jie had heard the commotion and rushed over.

No escape now— A bleak smile tugged at Jin Fugui’s lips.

For some reason, his thoughts drifted to the mother and daughter waiting at home.

That foolish woman… probably didn’t sleep a wink again.

His broken ribs stabbed into his flesh, yet Jin Fugui forced himself to look up—the faint crescent moon was sinking toward the horizon.

By their agreement, they’d head to the West City soon.

The things he’d left for them should ensure a few years of stability.

But I won’t make it.

At this thought, Jin Fugui’s gaze turned icy, locking onto Xiangzi. “I lost. I’ve nothing to say.”

As Skinny Monkey once said, people like them had nothing but worthless lives.

Lose the gamble, and your life’s forfeit.

In the rain’s veil, Liu Tang and Uncle Jie exchanged glances.

They didn’t know the full story, but Jin Fugui sprawled on the ground, his spear broken in two, spoke of something extraordinary.

Both men drew a sharp breath—Xiangzi took down Jin Fugui in one move?

Jin Fugui was born with brute strength and decent martial talent. If not for his sickly daughter dragging him down, he might’ve entered a martial hall in his youth. Few among the East Wing guards could best him.

Yet he couldn’t withstand a single move from Xiangzi?

When did Xiangzi get this strong?

Did he hold back during today’s skirmish at the mine line?

Snapping back to focus, Liu Tang’s voice was cold. “Xiangzi, this one can’t be spared!”

Rain slid down the short spear in Xiangzi’s hand.

Its sharp tip hovered an inch from Jin Fugui’s throat.

Lord Tang’s right. Jin Fugui’s cunning and ruthless—he can’t be left alive.

But he had undeniably saved Xiangzi.

Whatever his motives, if Jin Fugui hadn’t ambushed that scar-faced bandit, Xiangzi wouldn’t have stood a chance against a newly ninth-rank warrior.

His mind raced, and Xiangzi flicked his wrist.

The spear’s edge grazed Jin Fugui’s throat.

“Go.”

Jin Fugui froze, stunned that Xiangzi would let him go.

Uncle Jie, anxious, shouted, “Xiangzi, don’t be soft-hearted!”

Xiangzi turned, his voice soft. “He saved me from Luo Er. I owe him that much.”

The rain-soaked crowd stood dumbfounded, even Jin Fugui in shock.

No one expected Xiangzi to release his ambusher over such a debt.

Only Uncle Jie, who knew Xiangzi well, sighed softly, understanding his nature.

Clutching his chest, Jin Fugui staggered through the rain, his burly frame stumbling in the mud like a stray dog no one wanted.

His spine, like the broken spear, had been shattered by Xiangzi’s punch.

All he wanted now was to return to that cramped courtyard, have his woman heat a pot of water.

For some reason, he thought of Skinny Monkey, who called him “Lord Jin” in public but “Brother Jin” in private.

Skinny Monkey died brutally, his bones crushed under hooves.

Back then, Jin Fugui could only pluck his bloodied rags from the dust, carve a wooden marker outside the city, and call it a grave.

Monkey, your brother’s useless. I couldn’t avenge you.

Down below, I won’t be the brother. You take the lead.

Forgive me this once.

Unknowingly, murky tears streamed from his eyes, indistinguishable from the rain.

After a while, Jin Fugui finally saw that familiar gate.

He pushed it open.

Rain dripped from his soaked shirt onto the floor.

In the dim light, a single straw-wick oil lamp flickered in the wind.

His woman didn’t greet him as usual.

Asleep, perhaps?

Jin Fugui closed the gate gently, slowing his steps.

The storm was shut outside.

Suddenly, footsteps approached.

Jin Fugui’s eyes narrowed, then he saw the lamp knocked down by a frail figure.

“Lord, run! Run!”

A shrill voice, ghostly in its desperation.

The lamp shattered, igniting the straw, flames surging upward.

In an instant, fire roared, illuminating a battered, bruised face—his woman’s face.

Her eyes were hollow, like a specter’s, clinging to a fat man’s leg, wailing.

Flames licked her body, but she seemed oblivious, letting the fire spread.

It burned, yet she smiled—a gentle, warm smile, like the one she wore waiting for her man.

“No!”

Jin Fugui’s scream drowned out the storm.

The ambush failed. Fat Fan, seething, kicked the dying woman away.

Damn it, barely alive and still so strong?

No time to think. Fat Fan waved. “Grab him!”

Several men leapt from the firelight, long blades in hand, charging forward.

But Jin Fugui, like a madman, ignored the slashing blades. He swung his fists, clearing a path.

Driven by rage, his dantian’s vitality surged to its limit.

Born with brute strength, Jin Fugui’s desperate power was terrifying.

The rickshaw yard men, unprepared for such ferocity, took his blows and were forced back.

But Jin Fugui suddenly froze—

In the corner, a small figure… and a maple leaf.

Splurch. A blade sank into his back, spraying blood.

He didn’t flinch, lips trembling.

A kick to his knee sent him crashing down, but like a wild dog, he crawled toward that small figure.

Seeing Yue’er’s pale, lifeless face, his last shred of hope shattered.

A blazing fire erupted in his heart.

Die… you all must die.

His bloodied hand grasped a small wooden box beside Yue’er.

It opened, revealing a fingernail-sized, faintly golden prismatic ore.

Without its outer shell, the ore glowed eerily in the firelight.

Fat Fan, recognizing it, paled in terror. “Stop him! Stop him!”

They’re all mad! This whole family’s mad!

Too late.

Jin Fugui swallowed the prismatic ore.