Chapter Thirty-Two: To Kill a Man, and Then Destroy His Soul?

"Master."

Kang Guangling was about to step in and assist, but Su Xinghe held him back. Shaking his head, he said softly, "Do not go and disturb Master Zhang's play."

"Play?"

Qiao Feng, who had not joined the chaotic fray, heard this word. He felt a flicker of annoyance, followed by a sense of profound helplessness.

After all, it was plain for all to see: the man was being besieged by hundreds of people, yet he handled them with ease. Not a single attack could penetrate his defenses; whether it was blades or fists from the front, or hidden weapons and deadly poisons, nothing had the slightest effect.

How was this any different from play?

He did not rush forward. Instead, he strode over to Elder Chen, who was panting on the ground, and reached out to channel his internal energy to help heal the man's wounds.

Xu Chongxiao stared blankly at the chaotic battle, watching as hundreds of people proved utterly helpless against Zhang Chengyi. He sat on the ground, his face ashen, and said, "Qiao Feng, there was not a shred of falsehood in what we said about your background."

Qiao Feng’s expression remained unchanged. After Master Zhiguang had recounted the events of the past and he had obtained the letter from his late mentor, he had already believed it ninety percent, which was why he had asked Zhang Chengyi if he were a Khitan.

"This matter... it was my own greed that clouded my judgment," Xu Chongxiao’s voice was hoarse. Having been released so effortlessly for the second time, his spirit had been completely broken.

He was, after all, an elder of the Beggar Sect. Though lustful and ambitious, he had once been a man of integrity.

Zhang Chengyi’s act of capturing and releasing him twice had acted as a wake-up call, shattering his illusions. The martial arts world was not merely about justice; once the mask of righteousness was torn away, one found only the law of the jungle, where the strong could trample the weak.

He, who thought he could manipulate others using the banner of righteousness, was the true fool. Regrettably, he had failed to pull back from the brink, instead burying himself deeper into his own stubborn delusions.

He had not been dazed just now; he had suffered a cultivation deviation. His meridians were severed, and not even Hua Tuo could save him now. Yet, in this state, he had found a glimmer of his original self.

"The death of Ma Dayuan is suspicious. I suspect it has to do with his wife, Kang Min. *Cough, cough, cough*—" Xu Chongxiao coughed repeatedly. A slight flush appeared on his face, and his voice steadied, sounding somewhat more spirited. "This matter... Kang Min came to me, and blinded by lust, I conspired with her to set this trap."

To be honest, he had not set out to frame Qiao Feng. Initially, he had truly believed Kang Min’s claims that Qiao Feng might have killed Ma Dayuan. The revelation of Qiao Feng’s Khitan blood offered him a chance to re-enter the martial arts world and seize control of the Beggar Sect, so he went along with it, deluding himself into believing he stood on the moral high ground.

After being captured by Zhang Chengyi, his plans were disrupted. He grew to hate this "Ranger of Golden Mountain," obsessing over revenge. Even when he realized that Kang Min and Quan Guanqing had ulterior motives, he had no other recourse but to continue down the wrong path.

Many things in this world are just like that.

He was guilty of negligence and poor judgment of character—not entirely evil, but his moral failings were so blatant that they were repulsive.

Qiao Feng finished channeling his energy and let go, looking over his shoulder, about to offer more help.

"Do not waste your internal energy," Xu Chongxiao said, sitting cross-legged and pushing away Qiao Feng’s hand. Heartbroken and crushed, he now only sought death. Yet, before he passed, there were things he needed to entrust to the other man: "If you still consider yourself a member of the Beggar Sect, and still acknowledge Wang Jiantong as your master..."

"After this is over, go and kill the fleeing Kang Min and Quan Guanqing." A grim look appeared on his face. "Elder Chen can testify. Aside from me, the ringleader, those two have violated the sect’s rules and deserve a death by a thousand cuts."

Having spent most of his life in the Beggar Sect, how could he bear to see it fall? Most of the sect's core disciples were currently at Jingfu Temple. If Zhang Chengyi killed them all, there would be no one left to check Kang Min and Quan Guanqing.

If the Beggar Sect fell under the control of those two, the consequences would be unimaginable.

"Helmsman Jiang and the brothers of the Dayi branch are in the back hall," Xu Chongxiao murmured to himself. "Take them and go."

As soon as he finished speaking, his eyes remained open, but his breath ceased.

*Click.* Elder Chen reset his dislocated arm and, enduring the pain, said, "Qiao... Qiao Feng, you should go."

The other three elders stood nearby, having not participated in the battle, listening in silence.

"Since I have already resigned from the position of Sect Leader, what I do is my own business," Qiao Feng said, reaching out to close Xu Chongxiao’s eyes. He stood up and added, "Besides, even if I wanted to leave, I suspect it would not be so easy."

His gaze swept over Su Xinghe and the Eight Friends of Hangu, who were loosely surrounding Jingfu Temple.

If everyone possessed the skill of Kang Guangling, it would be difficult for him to escape even by himself, let alone if he intended to take the brothers of the Beggar Sect with him.

Moreover, the battle in the courtyard was nearing its end.

*Thud!*

The last man standing was floored by Zhang Chengyi. Zhang sat down on the two men piled together, wiped the slight sweat from his forehead, and a look of satisfaction appeared on his face.

"Have you decided how you’re going to fight me?" he asked.

Of course, he had not.

Qiao Feng watched Zhang Chengyi, who looked as if he had merely finished a warm-up. Qiao’s own physique, while far superior to the average person, was nowhere near his opponent’s, and his internal energy was even further behind. As for stamina, one only had to look at how Zhang had handled hundreds of martial arts experts without even flushing to know that he was incomparable.

By any metric, the probability of winning was nearly zero. But could he simply choose not to fight?

"Don't worry, I didn't land any lethal blows on them," Zhang Chengyi stood up with a grin, kicking the bottom of the man who was playing dead. "How could a dignified Ranger of Golden Mountain engage in a massacre?"

Showing mercy was a luxury afforded to the strong.

If these people had remained silent and awaited their fate, he might have let Old Su cripple their martial arts. Since they dared to attack, they had some backbone; a beating and a few days of recovery would suffice.

"However, if we meet again and you raise a hand against me, I will have to cripple your martial arts," he said, walking toward Qiao Feng and stretching his back. "Alright, that was satisfying."

"Old Kang, you and Shi Laoqi are responsible for taking them back."

He had already told the Eight Friends of Hangu who he wanted to bring back. People like Master Shenshan and the two high monks had real talent and were worth taking.

As for people like Zhao Qiansun and Shan Zheng, they were out. Their innate talent was mediocre, and they wasted their efforts on matters unrelated to martial arts. Their skills were lacklustre, and he suspected they would be of little use in breaking through the limits of human martial arts—mere dregs.

The same went for the Four Elders; their minds were filled with national and ethnic causes, and while they had glorious deeds, their martial arts had inevitably suffered.

They were on par with Bao Butong, Feng Bo'e, and Yun Zhonghe, and inferior to Yue Lao San, who was mentioned in the novels—mere cannon fodder who could be accidentally killed by a berserk Qiao Feng at Juluxian Manor. They were not worth the effort.

On the other hand, Tan Gong and Tan Po were worth taking. Though their martial arts were not exceptional, they possessed a talent for medicine. The gold-wound medicine they made in the novel, using extreme northern cold jade and mysterious ice toads, was something even Qiao Feng had never heard of. They had a unique specialty.

After filtering through them, there were not many left to take.

As expected, true experts were not as common as cabbage in the marketplace; one had to seek them out personally.

Zhang Chengyi looked at Qiao Feng and smiled. "Brother Qiao, come along with us."