The sky was a hazy gray, casting a shadow over people's hearts, with the morning mist enveloping the mountain village. Everything seemed calm, as if last night had been just a dream.

However, beneath the big tree, the countless bat corpses clearly proved that what happened last night was real.

Amidst the bats, a person lay quietly there. From the outside, their appearance was unrecognizable. Only through the outline and the exposed white bones could one discern that it was a human.

In the air, the metallic odor of blood lingered, a scent even more unsettling than last night's stench.

"Ugh..."

The little girl retched, unable to hold it any longer, and ran to the side, while Lu Yao and Lin Jiaxuan rushed over to comfort her.

The scene was indeed too tragic. Even Lin Zhiyan and Xiao Feng couldn't help but frown as they recalled Shao Wenxing's relieved smile just before being engulfed by the bats. Their hearts felt indescribably heavy.

Of course, the one most affected at this moment was not Xiao Feng and the others, but Sun Shijie, who was Shao Wenxing's master.

"It's all fate," Sun Shijie said through gritted teeth, but there was no anger in his tone, only sadness and desolation.

Xiao Feng raised an eyebrow, thinking this phrase seemed to be universally applicable, conveniently explaining everything. Yet, it was also quite unreasonable.

With just the saying "it's all fate," one could shirk all responsibility, as if covering up any wrongdoing, implying that simply being alive is an original sin?

"Do you think he brought it on himself?" Sun Shijie took a pipe from his sleeve and squatted down, puffing on it.

"Yes," Xiao Feng replied frankly.

"The child had a hard life. His parents died early, and he lived with irregular meals. I originally hoped to pass on my skills to him so he could live well, but in the end, I couldn't hold onto him," Sun Shijie sighed.

Xiao Feng responded noncommittally, "But that's no excuse for his wrongdoings... What I'm curious about is, what kind of illness did he have?

And, it's true you passed on your skills to him, but didn't you ruin your own reputation, dragging him down with you?"

"His illness was a rare disease, similar to ALS. I tried many ways, but could only manage to let him have freedom in his hands and head," Sun Shijie sighed again. "As for why I ruined my own reputation, I think what you really want to ask is, why did I fake my death?"

"Yes," Xiao Feng admitted candidly. This was indeed what puzzled him the most.

"Fifty years ago, during a time of war, I was traveling across Jiangnan, when I happened to meet an injured Japanese.

As a Huaxia person, my instinct was not to save him, but as a doctor, I couldn't forsake my ethics, especially since he was just a teenage boy.

After saving him, I found he wasn't as obnoxious as I imagined, and we surprisingly agreed on many things. Though we had a considerable age gap, kindred spirits are rare, and we hit it off from the start.

After that, as I wandered around treating and saving people, he followed me. In each place, he would inquire about martial arts masters and then challenge them.

The outcome was predictable; those unaware of his identity were one thing, but those who knew never held back. Many times he hovered between life and death, yet he was undeterred…"

Hearing this, Zhao Guo'an unwittingly sensed an unusual undertone in the story, possibly from some deeply ingrained preconceptions.

When viewed from another angle, this story depicted an epic, tragic love affair.

One was a doctor with exceptional medical skills, the other a martial arts enthusiast with a burning passion. They wandered together through seasons, appreciating and encouraging each other.

Then, on a stormy night, the doctor looked at the injured martial arts lover with deep concern, saying: "Please, don't continue fighting."

The martial arts lover forced a smile, replying: "Luckily, you're here!"

After that, they gazed deeply into each other's eyes, speaking volumes without words...

Thinking of this, Zhao Guo'an bit his tongue hard to forcibly halt his imaginative musings, fearing that he might never be able to view this respected senior in the industry the same way again.

Xiao Feng certainly didn't know what Zhao Guo'an was thinking. If he did, he would probably feel a wave of guilt.

Thinking back to their first meeting, Zhao Guo'an was such a dashing young man. Just because of a joke Xiao Feng made, his thoughts had gone increasingly astray.

After taking several more puffs of his pipe, Sun Shijie continued, "There's a saying that people can endure hardship together but not enjoy prosperity together. After the war ended, I returned to my hometown to see if any of my ancestors' belongings were still there.

He told me he wanted to return to his country and asked if he could borrow my family heirlooms to help develop his family, promising to return them when his family prospered."

Xiao Feng couldn't help but interject, "What did your ancestors leave behind?"

"I've never seen it," Sun Shijie shook his head. "I only know it's a priceless treasure."

"Please continue."

"I gave him the same answer back then, but he didn't believe me. He sneaked into the treasure site while I was away. When I returned and couldn't find him, it never crossed my mind that he would search for the treasure in my absence.

But when I finally gave in to the notion of making a desperate attempt, I found him in the underground chamber, gravely injured, more so than ever before."

Xiao Feng interrupted again, "Did someone injure him?"

"He was hurt by a trap," Sun Shijie explained. "That's also why I've never seen my ancestors' treasure. By luck or fate, I managed to pull him back from death's door, but he blamed me for not warning him about the traps in the treasure chamber.

Isn't that absurd? I didn't blame him for attempting to steal my family's heirloom while I was away, yet he blamed me instead."

No one answered; there was no need for a response. Everyone instinctively turned to Su Yuzhuo.

Although Sun Shijie hadn't mentioned a name, everyone knew the "he" in his story was Su Yuzhuo's father.

"What happened afterward?" Su Yuzhuo broke the silence with her question.

Sun Shijie tapped his pipe bowl against his shoe and stood up, saying, "He went back to his country, and we've had no contact since."

Su Yuzhuo nodded slowly. Even though she was ninety-nine percent sure, she couldn't help but ask, "What was the person's name you mentioned?"

Sun Shijie turned back, expressionless, and said, "Iwakami Ryoji."

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