Chapter 117: Between Father and Son

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Update time: 2013-07-27

"It seems this time away has greatly improved your inner energy," a man in black said, stepping out from behind a tree before Yuwen Lingxi. His face wore a warm, genial expression.

"Uncle Guan." Yuwen Lingxi's taut frame gradually relaxed. His voice remained cool, yet it lacked its usual distance. "He finally agreed to let you out."

"The clan head must have his reasons for doing so. Come—he is already waiting for you." The man in black dismissed the matter lightly, a deep satisfaction shining in his smile. The young master had truly matured over the years they had been apart.

Yuwen Lingxi looked at his smile and felt a pang of sourness in his heart, though he concealed it well. Curling his lips into a faint smile, he said, "Let's go."

The smile was slight, barely there, but it came from the depths of his being. The middle-aged man called Uncle Guan was briefly stunned, then fell into step behind Yuwen Lingxi, heading into the mountains.

With each step deeper, the smile at the corners of Yuwen Lingxi's mouth gradually faded. This place felt suffocating to him—lifeless and dead in every direction. If he had the choice, he would rather roam the world than remain in this place where he was known as the Hall Master and Dark Abyss.

Along the way, Yuwen Lingxi learned briefly from Uncle Guan what had happened at Raksha Hall recently and how the selection of the third batch of assassins was progressing, and then he fell silent.

Although Raksha Hall was an assassin organization, its location was known to everyone. The forest Yuwen Lingxi had just crossed was called Ghost Forest by outsiders precisely because of Raksha Hall. And the building before him—gloomy, sinister, and utterly devoid of human warmth—was the infamous Raksha Hall itself. The whole hall was exceptionally empty, with only a handful of men in black busily moving to and fro.

In their presence, Yuwen Lingxi had already donned the bronze fang mask that symbolized his identity. Wherever he passed, the few men in black stopped and lowered their heads; once he was gone, they each returned to their own tasks without exchanging a single word.

It was only after Yuwen Lingxi and Uncle Guan crossed Raksha Hall that they stopped before an unremarkable little courtyard in the back.

"The clan head is waiting inside. Go in, young master." Having said this, Uncle Guan took his place by the door.

Yuwen Lingxi raised his hand, hesitated for a moment, then knocked on the wooden door and pushed it open without waiting for a reply from within.

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Everyone in Raksha Hall knew that only the previous hall master, Yin Feng, and the current hall master, Dark Abyss, could set foot in this little courtyard. For anyone else, even a single finger crossing the threshold would surely be crushed to pieces.

Compared with Raksha Hall's sinister atmosphere, the courtyard was instead filled with vitality and harmony. Two or three thatched cottages stood in meticulous neatness. Before them, a winding bluestone path stretched to the courtyard gate. To the left lay a modest pond with several water lilies in bloom; to the right, a dense grape trellis hung with plump clusters of grapes. At a stone table beneath the trellis, two figures sat playing a game of Go—except one of them was utterly devoid of life. Drawing closer, one could see it was a stone statue of a woman, graceful and slender, the only flaw being that her lovely oval face bore no features at all.

Opposite the statue sat a man in white robes. His flowing black hair was neatly pinned atop his head with a wooden hairpin. He held a black stone in his hand, yet had not set it down.

Only when Yuwen Lingxi entered the courtyard, closed the gate, and removed the bronze mask did he look up. The man appeared to be around forty. Beneath a pair of sword-shaped brows, his eyes were clear and bright. A scholarly aura clung to him, yet it did nothing to diminish his imposing bearing. Looking closely, he bore a three-part resemblance to Yuwen Lingxi.

This man was none other than Yuwen Mo—the current clan head of the Yuwen family and the one hundred thirty-sixth hall master of Raksha Hall, Yin Feng. He cast only a single glance, then moved his other hand beneath the stone table, and the stone statue of the woman across from him shifted places with the stone stool on his right.

Yuwen Lingxi understood and took a seat on the stone stool across from him. Taking up a white stone, he studied the board. The white and black stones had already fought each other into a deadlock. Now, holding the white stone, he had two paths before him: the first was to abandon the game and concede; the second was to risk everything and fight back from the brink of death.

Yuwen Lingxi raised his eyes to look at his father across the table and, without hesitation, chose the second path. The white stone fell on the table with a crisp, pleasing sound.

The moment he placed his stone, Yuwen Mo began reappraising this son who had always followed his instructions without question. "So this is your choice." His voice was deep and full of authority.

"This is my choice." Yuwen Lingxi's voice remained low and hoarse, but it was unwavering, his gaze meeting Yuwen Mo's eyes steadily without the slightest retreat.

"Why?" Yuwen Mo set down the black stone in his hand and began picking up the surrounded white stones one by one. "If you want to marry her, I will let you marry her. No matter what you do now, your ultimate goal will be achieved. Why choose defiance over obedience?"

Yuwen Lingxi made no attempt to hide a self-deprecating smile. "I care more about the process. What I want is her heart, not merely her person. Nor do I want to end up with nothing but a stone statue to mourn over."

Yuwen Mo's hand, mid-reach for the white stones, suddenly clenched tight. A thick killing intent surged in his clear eyes. But Yuwen Lingxi showed not a trace of fear, and his self-deprecating smile shifted into one of deep contempt: "In this little world you rule, you cannot even bring yourself to carve her face. Though you are my father, I must admit you are a coward."

Yuwen Lingxi's words pierced the heart like needles, ruthlessly striking Yuwen Mo's rawest wound. Had it been anyone other than Yuwen Lingxi speaking, that person would have died countless times over.

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Yuwen Mo's right hand gradually unclenched, and a puff of powder scattered on the wind—a testament to how deeply Yuwen Lingxi's words had shaken him. But in that moment, he regained his scholarly composure and continued gathering the white stones his son had abandoned. "What right do you have to judge me? You, who used your medical arts to seal away her memories—compared to me, you are far more deserving of the word 'coward.'"

The hand hanging at Yuwen Lingxi's side clenched tightly, his nails digging ruthlessly into his palm. Like a wounded beast, he roared: "Was I supposed to watch her rot away to death in front of me? Or would you rather I watch her wake up, break down, and take her own life? Tell me—isn't that exactly what you wanted? Isn't all of this part of your scheme?!"

Yuwen Lingxi's eyes were bloodshot, madness gradually consuming his reason as he completely forgot that the man before him was his own father. "And you wouldn't have let Yue'er rot to death either. Even if I refused, you had a backup plan, didn't you?"

Yuwen Mo, as if utterly impervious to his son's fury, replied with refined calm: "That's right. If you refused, Thirteen would drug you. If you still refused, he would carry out the task in your place. Of course, when it came to the aftermath, the credit would still go to you."

Yuwen Mo's tone was as casual as if he were discussing what he had eaten for lunch, yet it thoroughly enraged Yuwen Lingxi. With a single palm strike, he shattered the stone table to dust, then pointed at the statue and roared: "How could you! Yue'er is her daughter!"

"But she is also someone else's daughter!" Yuwen Mo's voice rose several notches as well. "That is something I will never forget."

Yuwen Lingxi, by contrast, became utterly calm. He sat back down on the stone stool and sneered at his father's lapse of composure. "You've finally admitted who that stone statue is. After all these years of pretending, you've finally grown tired. The reason you're so desperately pushing me to marry Yue'er is simply because she looks like her, isn't it? Once Yue'er enters the household, you can see her every day, and you can delude yourself into believing she is still by your side—am I right?" Beneath his tranquil exterior, a storm raged within his heart. He would not allow anyone to lay a finger on Yue'er—not even if that person were his own father.

Yuwen Mo withdrew his momentary loss of composure and warned in a dark, heavy voice: "Is this how a son speaks to his father? I am not as vile as you imagine!"

"Let's hope so." Yuwen Lingxi rose, having no desire to keep discussing the matter—he feared he might go mad. "From now on, do not meddle in Yue'er's affairs. I will handle them myself. Also, that person who came back alive from the forest—please deal with him cleanly. I would not mind doing it with my own hands."

With that, he opened the courtyard gate and walked out. Meeting Uncle Guan's concerned gaze, he gave a slight nod, then left without looking back. There was a girl still waiting for him.

After his figure vanished from the courtyard, Yuwen Mo's gaze grew deeper and deeper. He turned to look at the stone statue beside him, and only then did a hint of tenderness appear in his eyes. Reaching out to caress the statue, he murmured to himself: "Tell me—have I indulged him too much, letting him forget his place? He still thinks you are her. But you clearly are not. I will come back another day to keep you company."

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