Martial King's Retired Life

“Wh-what do we do?” stuttered Song Ou.

Calmly and quietly, Zha Pi answered, “Act and conceal our identities.”

Song Ou flicked up a thumb. “You are my Kongming.”

Zha Pi gently patted his shoulder. “Watch.”

Song Ou hubristically crossed his legs, picked up his bowl of tea and blew it. He wasn’t just looking down on them; he was looking down on even mankind.

“What wisdom do you have to share with us?” someone questioned.

Song Ou had a sip of tea, seemingly unable to comprehend the lowly language of humans. Playing the role of a stuck-up-wealthy young master who saw people of the pugilistic world as worms was something he inherited, so people had already armed themselves. Had it not been on account of the table he halved, they would’ve given him a piece of their minds already. While he might not have been proficient at real combat, he was certainly capable enough to put on a performance.

While Song Ou enacted the “act” policy, he was oblivious to the fact that Zha Pi had found an exit that he could jump through and escape from within a blink. Nevertheless, Song Ou’s indifference when he was surrounded deterred anyone from taking action.

“Who are you?” Yan Liren eyed the timber table that was cleanly split as if a sharp blade was used to slice it. “Very few clans teach a discipline that could achieve such a clean break; it’s clear you come from a respectable clan, so why don’t you dare tell us?”

Song Clan’s “Sundering the Nine Heavens” certainly was a discipline that could turn a flesh hand into an iron hand. Combined with mastery of Edge and Hard Realms, the practitioner would be able to poke holes in weapons with a single finger. As a palms specialist, Yan Liren could perceive the lethality of “Sundering the Nine Heavens” even without knowing its name.

Song Ou learnt from his family, had spent years practicing it and had practiced Liu Shan Men’s Six Phenomena Heart King in recent years, so it wasn’t easy to identify the origins of his palm techniques. Otherwise, anyone who knew a thing or two about Song Clan would’ve recognised it as “Sundering the Nine Heavens”.

Catching on to the situation, Zha Pi asserted, “You gentlemen are not qualified to know who my master is.”

Song Ou instantly rode the momentum to pull his shoulders back.

Lan Jiqiong started clapping. “Great, so you’re a distinguished individual. The majority of people here don’t want to identify themselves. Fine by me. However, anyone hear is either looking for revenge against Ming Feizhen or want the money. We can’t just turn a blind eye if we don’t know what everyone is after.”

Song Ou made no effort to spare Lan Jiqiong even a glance. Instead, using the skill that Shen Yiren almost made him forget with her shackles, he tapped his chin, indicating for Zha Pi to speak on his behalf.

Zha Pi straightened up his posture and yelled, “To avenge the grudge of stealing a man’s wife! He stole my master’s wife!”

Song Ou, catching himself before he fell off his seat, waved his hands as though his life was on the line. “No, no, no! I just have a small feud with him!”

Despite his best efforts, Song Ou was too late to stop the gazes off sympathy.

The young girl was first to express, “What a scumbag. So he put a green hat on you?”

Lan Jiqiong and Zhao Tiankui: “That is a tragedy no man can look straight at.”

“There’s no need to show me sympathy! I’m fine! I have a big heart! Wait, wait, wait! I meant, that never happened! Never!”

All the men just nodded. Yan Liren and Wu Ping’s wife expressed, “Stay strong.”

“He killed your son, and he killed your husband, so why are you consoling me?! You don’t need to console me!”

“Let us combine our minds to devise a plan to avenge the young master.”

“You don’t need to avenge me! Don’t you have your own vengeances to exact?!”

“Yes…” They all sighed. “How pitiful.”

“Listen to what I’m saying!”

The discussion ran until the middle of the night. The alcohol and attitudes of the pugilistic world folks turned a should-have-been serious meeting on assassinating Ming Feizhen into a Ming Feizhen cursing session. Once they moved the meeting point to a tent outside the city, more people joined them.

One loud-mouthed bloke rambled about wanting to hack Ming Feizhen, then Liu Shan Men and then the Qilin Guards. Another guy wanted to raid the imperial palace to assassinate Emperor Yuansheng. Needless to say, Zhao Tiankui laid them out on the spot. When it came to lambasting Ming Feizhen, Song Ou was an expert, especially once he was intoxicated. If you thought Li Bai was impressive with his creativity when drinking or Zhuge Liang making Wang Situ vomit blood with his sharp words was awe-inspiring, wait until you saw Song Ou go at Ming Feizhen.

“Where are your virtues? How are you supposed to achieve anything?” The main character of the tragedy, now red in the face from over a hundred drinks, pointed at the people around as he yelled, “Morons. What could you achieve?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Song Ou stomped, crushing something underfoot that startled everyone. “Listen to me, or I’ll go ever there and say it.”

All of a sudden, silence permeated the tent.

Swaying as he tried to stay on his feet, Song Ou said, “You’re all capable, but you’re all disconnected. Is a punch more lethal when your fist is tight or when it’s loose? If you go after him one by one, that’s just offering him a sacrifice. Work together, form a tight fist, and then you will be able to crush him.”

Since Song Ou sounded so smart and resourceful, they started hurling questions at him.

“We need to unite! We need to form an alliance! We need to come together to achieve big things! How about taking a page out of our predecessors’ books. Drink some wine and blood, kneel and swear an oath. We’ve drunk the majority of the wine. All that’s left is some blood. If you are in, how about… swearing on my left foot!” Song Ou lifted his left foot, earning respect.

Were they not drunken stupid, Song Ou would’ve lost his foot. On this night, however, Lan Jiqiong was first to go up to Song Ou’s foot, took out a long scroll, bit his finger and wrote his name down in blood.

“I, Lan Jiqiong, swear on this left foot that I will join the alliance! I will not change my mind until I am dead!”

Lan Jiqiong’s actions served as the catalyst for everyone else to follow suit. Some bit their own finger. Some bit someone else’s finger. Some bit somewhere that had people screaming. Those who could write either wrote paragraphs or just variations of curse words. Those who couldn’t write stamped the scroll with their finger, hand, foot, saliva or butt cheeks. Perhaps the event was among the three worst desecrations to a scroll since its invention.

A burly man with a foreign accent bit his wrist, wrote two big characters and then sonorously voiced, “I am from Nanjiang. He took one of my arms and beat me. I will never stand together with him. In my opinion, this young master is correct. We need to band together to fight the demon. Do you agree?!”

The group voiced their support energetically.

The Nanjiang man asked, “Our alliance needs a good name, agreed?”

“Agreed!”

“I came from Nanjiang, so I saw the shop he opened in Nanjiang. I know for sure that’s his secret. Since the purpose of the alliance is to kill him, how about we use his store name against him? Let’s call it Yizhen Alliance, meaning, ‘Ee, you’re dead this time, Ming Feizhen!’”

“Th-that…” Song Ou pointed his shaky finger the man as he heaved big breaths. “That’s a great idea!” He turned toward the others and cried, “Yizhen Alliance has been established!”

The crowd started chanting, “Long live Yizhen! Long live Yizhen! Long live Yizhen!”

One person after another signed, and once there was only one person left, they all looked to him – Song Ou. With eyes on him and chants drumming in his ears, Song Ou borrowed a sword, walked up to the front of the ground and cried, “Today! I shall be your model! I will sign with my carotid’s blood!”

Everyone rushed forward as soon as they saw Song Ou aim the sword at his neck. Thankfully, Lan Jiqiong was fast enough to stop Song Ou. Everyone else had to restrain Song Ou as he carried on crying and yelling he wanted to sign with his neck’s blood.

Everyone excluded Zha Pi, who just spectated the birth of a brain-dead legend and provided his own commentary.