24. Venturing Alone into the Ma Clan Fortress

As soon as he left the Savage Village, the sky grew dark and heavy. Thunder rumbled, the winds howled, and before long, a torrential rain began to pour. The downpour slanted across the mountains, turning the roads into a mire of mud. The cold wind swept through the deluge, driving travelers to seek shelter, but on the road to the Ma Clan Stronghold, a lone figure pressed on.

This man wore fiery red bracers on his arms, a plain white robe, and a white silk band tied around his head. His eyes were as cold as ice, utterly devoid of emotion—or perhaps brimming with only one: hatred.

In one arm, he carried a massive spirit tablet; in the other, he gripped a jar of aged liquor. He strode forward with urgent, steady steps, a forceful presence radiating from him—so much so that even the rain could not force his eyes to narrow. His eyes blazed with a burning fire.

A bolt of lightning split the sky, illuminating his face for an instant. He was Xie Wuji, yet now it was nearly impossible to associate him with the once downtrodden young man who had drifted northward in search of fortune.

The few passersby hurried by, none daring to approach him, and Xie Wuji finally arrived at the gates of Ma Clan Stronghold.

At the gate, two bandits kept watch, chatting beside a meager campfire. The flames were weak, and only a small pile of firewood sat nearby. They shivered with the cold, rubbing their hands together, trying to banish the chill through laughter and banter.

Xie Wuji approached the entrance. He looked up to see a massive parasol tree plaque above the gate, three bold characters carved in a flourish: Ma Clan Stronghold.

The two sentries quickly noticed him. Something about Xie Wuji struck them as odd.

“Hey, you! Do you know where you are? Get lost! Bringing all that bad luck around here—what, you trying to jinx the stronghold?” one of them called out, stepping forward to shoo him away.

But Xie Wuji, unhurried, set the spirit tablet down at the gate. He took up the wine jar and drank deeply.

Gulp after gulp, he emptied half the jar in one go, not even pausing for breath. The last of the wine he poured out around the spirit tablet. Xie Wuji declared, “Villagers, watch over me. I swear I will avenge you!”

With a sharp crack, the wine jar shattered. Even the two murderous bandits could see that this was no ordinary man. One said, “You, go inform the boss and his second. I’ll stay here and hold him off. Go, now!” As he spoke, he drew a broadsword from his belt. With a metallic ring, the blade flashed as he gripped it tightly, staring at Xie Wuji with wary eyes.

Xie Wuji wiped the wine from his mouth with the back of his hand. He said nothing—his fists spoke for him. With no warning at all, his fist shot forward!

The bandit reflexively swung his broadsword at Xie Wuji, but Xie Wuji’s fist was faster, harder.

The most dangerous thing on the bandit was the broadsword in his hands, but Xie Wuji struck directly at the blade itself.

With a metallic crash, the broadsword shattered. Iron splinters flew as his fist smashed into the bandit’s face, driving his features inward. The man didn’t even have time to scream—a human sandbag, he was sent flying backward by Xie Wuji’s blow!

As he flew, several teeth were knocked loose, and his body became wedged right between the characters on the “Ma Clan Stronghold” plaque.

The bandit was knocked unconscious, but the other had already gone to raise the alarm. The stronghold was soon in an uproar. The Ma Clan Stronghold was a dominant force in the region—always the ones to cause trouble, never the ones to receive it. But today, the tables were turning.

Before long, two or three dozen people had gathered at the gate, surrounding Xie Wuji. One, brandishing a knife, shouted, “You’ve got nerve, coming here to court disaster! Do you even know where you are?”

“Why bother talking? The Second Boss just brought back a beauty—he’s about to enjoy himself. We’d better not mess up his mood,” a female bandit chimed in.

Xie Wuji’s pupils contracted sharply. He was certain this woman was Song Xiaoyu; if not, it was someone else, but her predicament ignited his fury.

With a wild shout, both his fists lashed out at the chattering female bandit, striking with no hesitation.

She was still rambling when, in the next moment, her chest caved inward, and from her collar, two water pouches made from pig bladders flew out!

The pouches tumbled through the air, drawing the men’s eyes irresistibly. The bandits stared in shock at the pig bladder pouches.

The woman instinctively covered her chest, but it was as flat as a man’s—astonishingly so.

In a flash, Xie Wuji had knocked all the bandits to the ground. They were nothing but common thugs, while Xie Wuji was a cultivator at the Condensing Core stage!

“A’xiu, you deceived us all along… you—” one bandit pointed at the woman, but before he could finish, Xie Wuji’s fist struck his jaw, sending him flying.

Seeing Xie Wuji’s unstoppable assault, the rest lost all will to fight. They scattered in terror, fleeing like a startled flock of sheep.

Xie Wuji grabbed one of the stragglers, glaring at him with a look so fierce the man’s bowels and bladder gave way. The stench was overwhelming as the man wailed, “Please, sir! Spare me! I’m just a lowly underling—I don’t know anything!”

“Where does your boss live?” Xie Wuji raised a fist, flames flickering around it—the fire crystal bracers exuding dominance.

The underling’s legs shook, his tongue tied in fear. “They—they’re in that building over there. The biggest one, that’s where the Boss and Second Boss stay… they’re inside right now!”

“When was the woman captured?” Xie Wuji pressed.

“T-today… just today!” the man sobbed.

A ringing sounded in Xie Wuji’s head. Wasting no more time, he sprinted toward the stronghold. Though Ma Clan Stronghold boasted many people, most were there only to escape famine in their home villages, so their skills were lacking. They bullied the innocent, but when they encountered someone from a true sect, all they could do was cry.

Thus, when Xie Wuji arrived, the bandits had tried to frighten him with the stronghold’s fearsome reputation—never expecting him to be so formidable. Their resolve crumbled instantly.

Xie Wuji reached the doorway of the largest building and, sure enough, could faintly hear a woman’s cry.

At that moment, the rain intensified, churning the earth into a field of mud. Xie Wuji took a deep breath, summoned the last of his drunken courage, and burst inside.

Within, a burly man clad in beast furs was playing chess—alone. He looked up at Xie Wuji and frowned, noticing the mourning clothes he wore.

“Who are you looking for?” the man asked.

“Is Ma Shuanglong here?” Xie Wuji replied.

“He’s here, but he’s busy. You look familiar, brother—who are you?” the man inquired.

Xie Wuji shot him a glance. “Xie Wuji, from Savage Village.”

The man’s pupils contracted sharply. He gritted his teeth and barked, “You’re the fugitive wanted throughout all of Tongzhou—Xie Wuji?”

Xie Wuji wondered how this man knew him, but before he could speak, the burly man snatched two iron axes from beneath the table and, with a roar, charged at Xie Wuji.

Xie Wuji thrust his hands forward—there was a metallic crash and sparks flew. Xie Wuji sensed trouble: this was a formidable opponent. The man’s eyes blazed with fury. “You’re the one who fooled my little brother into buying those so-called ‘egg stones’ and wiped out Ma Clan Stronghold’s savings of ten years!”

With wild howls, the man swung his axes like windmills, blow after blow forcing Xie Wuji onto the defensive. But once he adapted to the rhythm, Xie Wuji launched a counterattack—just as a woman’s scream echoed from above.

“Don’t come any closer!”