Chapter 227: Freedom
Li Sushang clamped both hands over her mouth and nose, her breath hitching in her throat. Her wide, trembling eyes reflected a deep, world-shattering shock. She bit down hard on her lip, forcing back the gasp threatening to tear from her lungs.
The legendary tale she had grown up revering—the glorious ascension of the immortal Red Kite twenty years ago—was a lie. A carefully orchestrated, cold-blooded murder of their own master.
And the most horrifying part? Her own master, her mother, and Uncle Ma, who lay battered in the dirt just outside the door... every single one of them had blood on their hands.
Rovel drew in a long, slow breath, letting the icy air fill his lungs before releasing it in a heavy sigh. His jaw tightened. He hadn't anticipated this. Even with Cheng Lingshuang abstaining from the fatal strike, the cunning Su Mei had still orchestrated a flawless execution to bring the immortal Red Kite down.
"So... Red Kite is truly dead?" Otto murmured. He lowered his gaze, the blonde man's expression unreadable, masking whatever calculations were rapidly spinning behind those emerald eyes.
"In the aftermath, Senior Sister Su Mei set Taixu Mountain ablaze. She burned it all to the ground," Cheng Lingshuang continued, her usually impassive voice carrying a faint tremor. "I left the ruins behind. I traveled straight to the Northern Wilderness, scouring the frozen wastes for any trace of you, Senior Brother."
She lowered her head, a rare, fleeting shadow of sorrow crossing her pristine features. "It is just a pity. I searched the ice and snow for years, yet I never found a single clue."
It made sense. The only person in the world who knew Rovel's exact resting place was Red Kite herself. With her demise, that secret had been buried alongside her.
"Well, Uncle Rovel was buried incredibly deep underground," Li Sushang chimed in, rubbing the back of her neck with an awkward, sheepish grin. "He was right beneath the dungeon of the Golden Sand Gang. That is probably why you never sensed him, Master."
She chuckled nervously. Driven by her insatiable curiosity and a sudden itch for adventure, she had stumbled upon his tomb by sheer, dumb luck. After all, who in their right mind would ever suspect that the great Red Kite had entombed Rovel while he was still breathing? Over the years, the dense concentration of True Qi in that subterranean cavern had attracted vicious eagles, turning it into a deadly nest that kept all ordinary scavengers and martial artists far away.
"Senior Brother," Cheng Lingshuang spoke softly, her eyes locking onto his. "What do you intend to do now?"
Now that the ugly truth of the past had been laid bare, she waited to see what path he would carve.
Rovel offered no verbal reply. He simply turned on his heel and strode out the door, his footsteps heavy against the wooden floorboards.
Outside, the night air was crisp. Ma Feima had already regained consciousness. The battered swordsman sat cross-legged in the dirt, circulating his inner qi to mend his fractured meridians.
Rovel stopped a few paces away, his shadow falling over the man. "Speak," he demanded, his tone dangerously flat. "Why did you do it?"
Cheng Lingshuang had made no effort to lower her voice inside. Given Ma Feima's deep cultivation, he had undoubtedly heard every single word of their exchange.
Ma Feima slowly opened his eyes. A deep, agonizing ache etched itself into the deep lines of his weathered face. He looked up at Rovel, his voice hoarse.
"For... freedom."
The memory drifted back to a time roughly two years after Rovel's supposed death.
A young Ma Yanqing stood in the courtyard, his wooden training sword slicing through the morning mist. Sweat beaded on his brow as he perfected his forms. Hearing light footsteps, he paused and turned. Senior Sister Su Mei was strolling toward him along the corridor, wearing that familiar, radiant smile that always seemed to brighten the mountain.
Seeing her, the exhaustion melted from his youthful face. He offered a bright, eager grin. "Sister Su Mei!"
"Hello, Yanqing," she greeted, stepping up beside him. Yet, her gaze didn't linger on him. Instead, her eyes tracked the distant path where Lin Chaoyu had just departed. She tilted her head slightly. "What was it you were declaring so loudly just now? You want to be a hero?"
Ma Yanqing nodded vigorously, his eyes sparkling with naive, burning anticipation. "Yeah! I'm going to be a great hero when I grow up! I'll leap across rooftops, vault over high city walls, and uphold justice across the martial world! Whenever I see the strong oppressing the weak, I'll draw my sword and strike down the wicked!"
"That won't work." Su Mei gently shook her head, her tone conversational, almost light.
Ma Yanqing blinked, his enthusiastic posture faltering. He looked up at her, searching for a hint of a joke. She was still wearing that warm, gentle smile, which put him somewhat at ease. His own smile crept back, albeit a bit confused. "Why not? Sister Su Mei, why can't I be a hero?"
Su Mei shook her head once more, her smile never wavering. "You simply cannot be a hero."
"But my martial arts are already so high!" Ma Yanqing protested, gripping his wooden sword tighter.
"You can possess the highest martial arts in the realm," Su Mei replied smoothly, "but you cannot be a hero."
"I can!" he insisted, stepping forward. "I can use my kung fu to save lives! I can help so many people!"
"You can help many people," Su Mei agreed softly, her gaze finally shifting down to meet his, "but you still cannot be a hero."
Ma Yanqing fell silent. The absolute certainty in her voice felt like a cold stone dropping into his stomach. He genuinely didn't understand. Why would the usually encouraging Senior Sister say something so definitive?
"Why?" he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"Because..." Su Mei turned her gaze back toward the empty path Lin Chaoyu had walked. "...you do not possess that kind of freedom."
She reached out, gently brushing a stray leaf from his shoulder. "Your future is already destined, Yanqing. Do you understand? What you want to do, what you will eventually do... it has all been decided for you. For the seven of us disciples, there is absolutely no room for choice in our futures. We are bound."
"Then why could Senior Brother Rovel do it?" Ma Yanqing furrowed his handsome brows, desperately clinging to his idol as a counter-argument. "He was free—"
"And that is exactly why Senior Brother died." Su Mei's voice remained sweet, yet the words sliced through the air like a guillotine, unhesitatingly shattering the final, fragile illusion in the young boy's heart.
Ma Yanqing had stood there, utterly speechless. He hadn't understood the depth of her words back then, only that Su Mei had kept smiling that beautiful, terrifying smile.
Ma Feima closed his eyes, the memory fading back into the dark recesses of his mind. He looked up at Rovel, his voice raw with a lifetime of exhaustion. "That was my motive for agreeing to kill Master. For that so-called freedom. For the illusion of freedom I desperately craved in my heart..."
"And now?" Rovel asked, his tone devoid of sympathy. "Have you obtained this grand freedom you slaughtered your master for?"
"No..." Ma Feima shook his head slowly, a bitter, self-deprecating laugh escaping his lips. "My entire life... I have been nothing but a puppet on Senior Sister Su Mei's strings. I have never tasted a single moment of true freedom."
Every major milestone in his life had been her design. The initial spark to dedicate his life to the sword? Planted by Su Mei. The dark, festering motive to assassinate the immortal Red Kite? Carefully cultivated by Su Mei. Even the aftermath—marrying Lin Chaoyu and establishing Yijian Villa—was a path Su Mei had explicitly directed him to walk.
Su Mei had once whispered to him that Ma Feima was the only man in the world who truly understood her. But looking back, he realized he had never understood her at all. She, on the other hand, was the only woman who completely understood him. She knew his every trigger, his every weakness. But that deep understanding was never born of love; it was the calculated mastery of a puppeteer over her favorite toy.
"Then do you regret it?" Rovel pressed, stepping closer, his shadow looming over the broken man.
"I have never regretted it." Ma Feima answered instantly, without a shred of hesitation.
Rovel stared down at him, his fists clenching at his sides. He couldn't fathom it. What kind of potent, mind-warping poison had Su Mei fed this idiot to leave him so utterly bewitched, even after realizing he was just a pawn?
"I wanted to do it, so I did it," Ma Feima stated, his voice carrying a hollow finality.
"Even knowing it was a twisted idea planted in your head by Su Mei?" Rovel's frown deepened into a fierce scowl.
Every word that left Ma Feima's mouth made Rovel's heart sink further into an icy abyss. Looking at the pathetic state of his former Junior Brother, Rovel felt his blood boil. The sheer, blinding urge to raise his hand and shatter the man's skull with a single palm strike surged through his veins.
But Rovel forced the violent urge down. He ground his teeth, suppressing the raging tempest of his emotions. Turning his back on the pathetic sight, he walked to the doorway, grabbed the discarded Chi Jueying, and hurled it outward.
The heavy blade sailed through the air and embedded itself deep into the dirt, the vibrating steel stopping a mere ten centimeters from Ma Feima's knee.
"From this moment on, the bond of our brotherhood is severed," Rovel declared, his voice echoing with cold, absolute finality. "I am no longer your Senior Brother. The next time our paths cross... I will kill you."
As Rovel's words drifted through the crisp night air, Ma Feima felt an invisible, crushing grip seize his heart.
Rovel.
Whether it was the strict Lin Chaoyu or the smiling Su Mei, both had constantly told him to look up to Rovel. To take him as the ultimate role model. From the time he was a young boy swinging a wooden stick, Ma Yanqing had anchored his entire existence on becoming a heroic figure just like Rovel. Rovel wasn't just an elder brother; he was an untouchable idol. Up until the day Rovel had supposedly died, that fervent belief had never wavered.
And now, the very god he had worshipped his entire life had looked him in the eye and severed all ties. The heartbreak was a physical agony, tearing through his chest worse than any blade.
But there was no turning back. The path of blood had been walked too far. He was no longer the bright-eyed Ma Yanqing who dreamed of leaping across rooftops to become a hero.
Trembling, Ma Feima reached out and wrapped his fingers around the hilt of Chi Jueying. He pulled the blade from the earth and pushed himself up on unsteady legs. As he stood, his once-handsome face seemed to wither, aging ten years in the span of a single breath.
He didn't look back at the room. Instead, he stared out into the darkness of the wilderness.
"Master has been resurrected," Ma Feima rasped out, his voice carrying through the quiet night. "Yijian Villa has been burned to the ground by a great fire. And Junior Sister Suyi... is dead."
Leaving those three devastating sentences hanging in the air, Ma Feima turned and limped away, his silhouette quickly swallowed by the shadows.
Inside the room, Li Sushang froze. The blood drained entirely from her face. She stood paralyzed for a long, agonizing moment before panic finally kicked in. She scrambled toward the door, bursting outside into the cold air.
But the yard was empty. There was no trace of Ma Feima, only the faint rustle of the wind through the barren trees.
Li Sushang collapsed to her knees, her eyes wide and vacant as the final words echoed in her mind.
"Mother... is dead?"
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