Chương 67: If Fate Grants You Eight Feet, Do Not Reach for Ten—You Were Too Greedy!

Su Zhe had finally grasped the key point. With that, a plan formed in his mind, and his heart settled into calm.

"You truly don't know what happened in Wild Goose Marsh Mountain?" Su Zhe asked Yu Yi.

"I don't," Yu Yi said, shaking his head.

"Very well. Thank you, Brother Yu. I'll take my leave." Su Zhe bowed sincerely. Yu Yi caught his sleeve.

"Brother Su, a night-soil cart will be leaving the city at midnight. You could hide among the waste and—" Su Zhe froze. Good grief. Yu Yi had even thought up an escape route for him? Some people escaped through earth, some through water… and this fellow wanted to help him escape through dung?

"I appreciate your kindness, Brother Yu," Su Zhe said, shaking his head.

"But I still have important business in the gang. I can't leave just yet."

"What could possibly matter more than your own life? Brother Su, you must not underestimate my master!" Yu Yi's anxiety was plain to see. He was truly worried for his close friend.

"Since Hall Master Wang is in such high spirits," Su Zhe said lightly, a faint chill passing through his eyes, "how could I possibly let him return disappointed?" Yu Yi's heart jolted. This— Was Su Zhe planning to… Foolish! He opened his mouth to stop him, but his vision blurred. A figure flickered. When Yu Yi looked again, Su Zhe was already gone.

"Damn it," Yu Yi muttered, his face turning ashen.

"I thought Brother Su was mild-tempered. How did I end up stirring the hot blood of a martial artist instead?" All his effort today had been wasted. … The Hall of Craft. The Blacksmith Shrine. Su Zhe strode forward to the hidden door and carefully examined the narrow seam. A moment later, he crouched and picked up a strand of long hair from the floor. It was the same strand he had left behind, caught in the door when the hidden passage had closed. Now it lay on the ground. What did that mean?

"No mistake. That old dog is hiding in the secret chamber." Su Zhe smiled faintly. Inner force surged through his palm. The strand of black hair instantly crumbled into ash.

"If I had exhausted my inner force while stoking the furnace to melt gold, and you struck from the shadows, I really might have been in danger."

"But now that I know you're there, and I'm on guard… you are no longer my match." Su Zhe bowed before the ancestral shrine and offered three sticks of incense. Then he shifted the incense burner and opened the secret door. He stepped inside. As he descended, night pearls lit the way. Before long, the passage reached its end. Beyond it lay the platform of the Fire-Refining Furnace. The underground platform was vast and empty, with almost nowhere to hide.

Because of that, Su Zhe had already guessed where Wang Shan would be lying in ambush. He stepped out of the passage. Whoosh! A gust tore toward him. Su Zhe's black hair danced in the wind. Roar! For an instant, he could almost hear a tiger's roar. Stolen novel; please report. A crimson Tiger-Fiend Saber came slashing down, fierce as the wrath of a mountain lord, the king of beasts descending to suppress all creatures.

"Wang Shan, is that all?"

"I must say, I'm disappointed." Su Zhe's voice was lazy and calm. His hand, however, was anything but slow. With a casual flick, Five-Colored Profound Light turned, and a fourth-grade Tiger-Howl Fiend Saber appeared in his grasp. His blood surged. Inner force coursed through him. The sleeves over both arms split apart with a sharp rip. The strength of one flood-dragon, three tigers, and fourteen oxen erupted, further empowered by the lingering force of Spirit Serpent Devours the Elephant. He swung with one arm.

The blade fell like thunder from the heavens. Clang! The two sabers collided with a piercing, thunderous crash. Boom! A blast of air tore through the chamber. Wang Shan, who had been hiding by the passage entrance, was sent flying backward despite his towering frame. He slammed into the stone wall of the secret chamber, smashing a crater into it.

"You… you…" Wang Shan staggered, blood staining his chest. His right hand still gripped his saber, but his arm trembled violently.

"We both use the Fiend-Tiger Saber Art… yet your saber carries stronger killing intent, your strength is greater, and even your inner force is purer than mine. How is that possible?" Su Zhe. His saber art was superior. His strength was greater. Even his inner force was purer. With a single strike, Wang Shan, master of Army-Breaker Hall, had been defeated. Su Zhe held the Tiger-Howl Fiend Saber as the two men stared at one another. Wang Shan's gaze fell on the saber in Su Zhe's hand.

Although Su Zhe had refined it into a fourth-grade weapon through weapon fusion, its appearance had not changed much. Wang Shan recognized it at once. That saber had belonged to Huang Yuan, the steward of his estate.

"It was you. You killed Huang Yuan!"

"Mad Shark was working with you!" Wang Shan coughed hard, his body wracked with pain, but the shock in his heart overwhelmed everything else.

"To be accurate…"

"Mad Shark has been dead for quite some time." Su Zhe spoke softly. Then he stamped his foot. In the next instant, he appeared before Wang Shan again. The Tiger-Howl Fiend Saber vanished, replaced by a forge hammer. Compared to saber techniques, Su Zhe still preferred the hammer. Boom! Wang Shan was still the master of Army-Breaker Hall. At the critical moment, he used the most undignified but practical move possible—a desperate roll—and barely avoided the strike.

The ground where he had been standing caved in as though struck by a giant beast. Wang Shan's eyelids twitched. Terror spread across his face. Whoosh! From the darkness, Su Zhe's ghostlike figure appeared. A hammer in his right hand. A sickle in his left. The sickle flashed unpredictably. One stroke. Praying Mantis Seals the Throat. Like a crescent moon cutting through the night, it took Wang Shan's left arm.

"Ah!" Wang Shan's eyes went wide with disbelief. He was one of the strongest men in Lu County, one of its three great powerhouses. He had ruled Army-Breaker Hall for years. How could he not be Su Zhe's match? Worse still… Su Zhe was the cat, and he was the mouse. The gap between them was so great that Su Zhe seemed almost toying with him.

"I thought I could kill him before he matured."

"I never imagined he would grow this quickly…"

"Damn it! How long has he even practiced martial arts? Is this what true genius looks like?" Wang Shan's thoughts flashed like lightning, but in the end, all of them turned into regret. Had he known this day would come, he should have cut Su Zhe down the moment he entered the inner sect. Bang! Bang! Su Zhe's hammer fell twice. Savage Bull Tramples the Earth. Wang Shan's legs were destroyed, leaving him completely unable to resist. Only then did Su Zhe feel somewhat at ease. He planted one foot on Wang Shan's chest.

"You… your inner force is this pure…"

"The three of us trained for more than ten years, even decades, to refine our inner force to such a level."

"You… have you melted the Golden Shackles?" Wang Shan looked ashen, like a dying dog, though a faint spark of struggle still remained in his eyes.

"How could it be that easy?" Su Zhe shook his head.

"I only lasted two hundred and ninety breaths."

"Still ten breaths short of three hundred. I'm ashamed to have disappointed my master." Two hundred and ninety breaths. Wang Shan's heart clenched. Yang Dingtian, Wang Shan, and Sun Tiexin—the three great figures of Lu County—had all borrowed the Fire-Refining Furnace for cultivation. Yang Dingtian had trained for twenty years. Sun Tiexin for fifteen. Wang Shan for ten. Yet none of them could endure even ten breaths. How long had Su Zhe been cultivating in the secret chamber? Seven days? Half a month?

Two hundred and ninety breaths… That number plunged Wang Shan into despair.

"Why… why was such talent not given to me… why not me…" His voice sank, heavy with endless bitterness. Once, he too had been called a genius. His martial foundation was just below Grade-A. But the same word meant different things when applied to different people.

"You were too greedy," Su Zhe said calmly.

"Greedy? All I wanted was a single treasured art so I could step into the fourth grade. Is that greed?"

"A warrior like you, favored by heaven, can have everything within reach. Of course you don't understand the suffering of men like us!" Wang Shan suddenly grew agitated, his face flushed, the veins in his neck standing out.

"Not greed?"

"If fate grants you eight feet, do not reach for ten. Those extra two feet are enough to cost you your life." Su Zhe could not sympathize with Wang Shan. He only shook his head. If fate grants you eight feet, do not reach for ten… Wang Shan froze. Once, he too had been spirited and proud like Su Zhe, believing that human will could overcome heaven itself. But as opportunities passed him by, and no treasured art ever came to him, Wang Shan had gradually twisted himself into something darker and more desperate.

He wanted to seek one ray of light in the darkness. Was that greed? Perhaps, when something was never meant to be yours, reaching for it was greed.

"Don't kill me…" After a moment of silence, Wang Shan's eyes flickered with unwillingness. He looked at Su Zhe almost pleadingly, forcing out the words with great reluctance.

"At Wild Goose Marsh Mountain, I joined hands with the Blood-Refining Cult to lure your master into a trap. Your master is as good as—""Then you can accompany him in death." Before Wang Shan could finish, Su Zhe's forge hammer fell. Wang Shan's voice stopped. Su Zhe wiped the hammer clean on Wang Shan's clothes and sighed.

"Old Sun, you really don't know how to keep people from worrying." Thinking back on everything Sun Tiexin had done for him, Su Zhe naturally could not simply abandon him. Still, Su Zhe had not allowed Wang Shan to bargain for his life. He had killed him outright, and he had his reasons. He had once been careless and nearly suffered a disastrous reversal when the warehouse keeper used the Spirit-Invocation Art against him. Su Zhe had no intention of making the same mistake twice.

After all, men like Wang Shan were crafty to the bone. Su Zhe had to guard against every possibility. As for what was happening at Wild Goose Marsh Mountain…

"Old Sun, this will depend on your luck." Su Zhe snatched the fiend saber from Wang Shan's hand and sent his mind toward the Immortal Cauldron of Creation…