Chapter Thirty-Six: Dong Muming—Death

At the hour when the sun blazed most fiercely, the torrential rains of the previous day had tempered its heat. Two figures moved swiftly through the bamboo grove, emerald stalks flashing past them in rapid succession. In the verdant grass below, wildflowers bloomed in abundance, while pale yellow bamboo shoots struggled to break through the earth beneath the massive stones.

Dong Muming followed closely behind Xi Menghe, making his way to the place where Xiu Ming was sheltered. Yet Dong Muming was not merely trailing after Xi Menghe; his right hand rested behind him, engaged in some hidden activity.

“How much farther?” Dong Muming urged impatiently.

“Brother, do you really think I would deceive you? Now that we’ve come this far, I will ensure you and your son meet,” Xi Menghe replied, unhurried.

“How did you come to know about my connection with Xiu Ming?” Dong Muming finally voiced the question he had suppressed for so long.

Xi Menghe did not answer directly, but spoke with a hint of warning, “If you wish no one to know, then do nothing. You’re still too careless; you’ve left traces of the Information Yellow Powder on the ground.”

Dong Muming realized his covert actions had been detected, yet he withdrew his right hand without a hint of embarrassment. “I’m simply ensuring our cooperation proceeds smoothly, nothing else.”

Xi Menghe seemed unconcerned, saying no more and continuing forward. Dong Muming was content to avoid further argument with the old man.

They pressed on, splashing through puddles that scattered water like racing through a marsh thick with aquatic plants.

Suddenly, they burst from the bamboo grove and light exploded before their eyes. A mountain stream flowed quietly, its surface dazzling with rainbow-hued reflections under the sun. As they stepped through, the water became a myriad of colorful speckles beneath their feet.

Following the stream upward, Dong Muming heard the faint sound of water lapping. He walked on, following Xi Menghe, and with a turn, a sparse forest appeared before them.

At that moment, Xi Menghe vanished into thin air.

Dong Muming was instantly alarmed, his expression sharp as he sent his mental power probing the surroundings.

But he immediately sensed something amiss: “This place severely restricts my mental power. The range is barely ten meters—less than what my eyes can see. I must find a way to break through this formation.”

He was just about to step away when chaos erupted. Bamboo stalks suddenly flew from the thicket without warning, each aimed at his vital points.

Fortunately, Dong Muming was already extraordinary; his body far surpassed ordinary men, and he reacted instantly. Fierce winds whipped around him, deflecting the sharp bamboo. With a sweep of his hand, dozens of stalks were sent flying into the distance.

A cascade of applause sounded nearby, yet as Dong Muming turned, there was no one. He scanned the area, but saw no trace of anyone, not even Xi Menghe’s footprints.

“Brother, I devised this painstakingly—a grand formation to welcome you,” Xi Menghe’s voice sounded as if right before him, yet no matter what Dong Muming tried, he could not find a shadow.

“I knew your mental power was formidable. Without thorough preparation, how could I lure you into my trap?”

Dong Muming roared like an enraged lion, “What are you trying to do? Are you not afraid my death will cause chaos in the sect? The sect leader won’t spare you!”

A familiar voice crushed his last hope.

“Brother, rest assured—I will find Xiu Ming and nurture him well. You may depart without worry.”

Dong Muming’s chin trembled, tears streaming, “Brother, I have never been disloyal. Why can’t you tolerate me?”

“There can be only one with absolute authority in the sect. That person is me. Third Brother, you cannot blame me. If you live, true unification is impossible. I know some elders secretly support you.

And you’re about to retreat and attempt the Thousand Path realm, are you not? Time flies…” Mo Jiyang’s face softened in remembrance.

“You were always the fastest to cultivate among us, and Master favored you. If not for my actions against Xiu Ming, which hindered your progress, you might have reached the peak of the Thousand Path, perhaps even the Grandmaster realm.”

“You! You harmed Xiu Ming!” Dong Muming was overcome with unprecedented helplessness.

He had never imagined that the sect leader, who had always shown him the greatest leniency, was the one most responsible for his son’s disappearance.

He laughed bitterly, his eyes cold amid the encroaching danger.

“Mo Jiyang, Xi Menghe—you collude together. One day I will flay you both and smash your bodies to pieces!”

Mo Jiyang gave no reply, nor did Xi Menghe beside him. They could have mocked him, but to them, speaking to the dead was beneath their dignity.

In the heart of the formation, hundreds of arrows and sharpened bamboo tubes rained down like a storm. Dong Muming dodged with his left hand, constantly defending against the formation’s assaults with his deep internal power. Yet he was no machine, and after only half a cup of tea’s time, he was battered and wounded.

A bamboo tube half a meter long pierced deeply into his inner thigh.

Dong Muming sweated coldly from pain, his body drenched as if hauled from a river. Blood streamed from countless wounds, turning him into a “man of blood.”

Still, he refused to surrender, dodging traps and searching for the formation’s core.

This was exactly as Xi Menghe had intended. The formation was tailored for him, especially the spell of confusion woven within. The harder Dong Muming sought the core, the more he fell under illusion, losing his way.

But even knowing this, he could only struggle like a trapped beast, a headless fly crashing from wall to wall.

Mo Jiyang, seeing the outcome assured, said to Xi Menghe, “I’m heading back. No third party must learn of this.”

Xi Menghe bowed respectfully. “Farewell, sect leader. No one will hear of Dong Muming’s fate. I’ll redouble efforts to find Xiu Ming, so you need not worry.”

Mo Jiyang glanced at him, nodded, and left with light footsteps. In moments, his shadow disappeared from Xi Menghe’s sight.

Xi Menghe turned back to watch Dong Muming’s dying struggle, his smile growing ever brighter.

Suddenly, dozens more sharp bamboo stalks flew at Dong Muming. He dodged and blocked as before. Just as he finished his movement technique and prepared to land, two-meter-long steel spikes erupted from the ground.

Dong Muming could not evade, and watched himself fall.

Yet outside the formation, Xi Menghe was certain of his imminent death, but Dong Muming produced a palm-sized iron plate from his robe.

He stepped onto the iron plate and stood firmly atop the steel spike. But the wound in his leg made it impossible to maintain his stance, and the attacks continued relentlessly.

Xi Menghe watched Dong Muming’s formidable strength, his expression growing darker.

“Why should someone like you possess such power? Why must fate let me be surpassed by you? Today, I’ll play you to death. And I’ve found the path to become extraordinary myself—soon, I will take your place.”

“It’s a pity for Su Kun and Huang Yang, good children who served you as dogs for years, only to be eliminated by you.”

Su Bai’s plan had been to send someone to the dungeon with food, and Su Kun and Huang Yang had thought it was Xi Menghe’s order. That saved Dong Muming’s life in passing. The master Su Kun spoke of was Xi Menghe.

“I had them drive Xiao Huixin to where Ming Li was. That woman would have been killed by my traps outside the cabin. Then I could obtain the Daoist treasure.”

Xi Menghe grew angrier at the thought, “That little brat! Dared to defy my orders, sneaked out, and rescued Xiao Huixin.”

Watching Dong Muming in the formation, Xi Menghe muttered, “I could have easily framed you, but that little bastard allied with you against me. I had to resort to this, kidnapping Wei Mingyuan to lure out Xiu Ming, so you wouldn’t be suspicious.

A pity for Wei Mingyuan—I had high hopes for him, but now must sacrifice him.”

With Su Kun and Huang Yang as his informants, Xi Menghe had long known Dong Muming held leverage over him. Removing him was partly for this reason.

More importantly: Dong Muming was on the verge of breakthrough. Once his power doubled, even Xi Menghe’s formation might not contain him.

Mo Jiyang, too—though outwardly amiable, Xi Menghe knew all his deeds. Dong Muming hadn’t reached the Thousand Path realm; it was the best time to strike. If he did break through, Mo Jiyang would not risk such an uncertain venture.

Now, Dong Muming lay dying in the formation, pain no longer dominating his mind, but a drowsy numbness creeping over him. He knew death was inevitable.

He recalled his youthful days, splendid and spirited, and wept uncontrollably. Blood smeared his cheeks, obscuring whether it was tears or blood that flowed.

He lifted his head, gazed one last time at the heavens, and with a frail, aged voice, condemned, “Xi Menghe, may you die a wretched death.”

Xi Menghe had already departed, and did not hear his curse. Though Mo Jiyang had instructed him to handle matters discreetly, Xi Menghe knew full well Mo Jiyang was not to be trifled with.

If he wished to serve under Mo Jiyang, he must seize leverage against him, so Mo Jiyang would not abandon him at a critical moment. Otherwise, he would eventually become the next Dong Muming.

“I’ll deal with Dong Muming’s corpse after I catch that little brat. That sly child is no ordinary mind—if he discovers any clue, he might flee prematurely.” With this thought, Xi Menghe quickened his pace, sending flowers flying with his robe.

In less than the time it takes to burn a stick of incense, Xi Menghe arrived at Dong Muming’s estate. The gatekeeper tried to bar his way, but was sent flying with a single palm.

Others tried to stop him, but were halted by a youth of seventeen or eighteen. This was Xu Yangcong, Dong Muming’s registered disciple, who had been with him for six years. He understood the elders’ relationships well.

From Xi Menghe’s demeanor, it was either a sect leader’s order to search, or Dong Muming was in trouble. Their strength could never stop Xi Menghe; intervening would only bring unnecessary deaths.

A crowd could only stand outside, watching helplessly as Xi Menghe ransacked the house.

Yet half an incense later, Xi Menghe found nothing.

“That old bastard must have hidden Ming Li here—there must be a secret door.”

Soon, he noticed a brick in the left wall of the backyard garden was different. With a gentle press, a floor tile beside him opened, revealing a secret passage underground.

“Ming Li, where are you? Master’s come to find you, heh heh.” Xi Menghe was like an old wolf, eyes gleaming green as he strode through the passage, his sinister voice echoing in the narrow corridor.

After less than ten steps, an ancient wooden door appeared, its lock rusted so thoroughly that any adult could break it.

“This old fool, so careless in everything—how can he hope to compete with me?”

Xi Menghe sneered, not forgetting to ridicule the deceased Dong Muming.

He struck with his hand, the rotten lock shattered, leaving only fragments. Xi Menghe pushed open the door and strode in.

He looked left and right, but found no one, only a letter on the table and a still-burning lamp.

The ugly handwriting immediately told him whose it was. It could not be helped; few modern people use brush pens, and the protagonist had not practiced writing diligently in recent years. (Su Bai lamented at length.)

“Master, you are indeed a cunning old fox; your disciple admits defeat. If you had told me sooner you poisoned me, perhaps I wouldn’t have dared join the Third Elder. Thank you, Master.

By the time you read this, you’ll have eliminated the Third Elder. But I picked up a bit of cleverness from you, and left early. Forgive me for not bidding farewell.

The time spent at your side taught me more about this world. Thank you for the lesson. In the future, I’ll settle accounts with you—just wait.”

Xi Menghe nearly ground his old teeth to dust, eyes blazing with fury.

He tore the letter to shreds, veins bulging on his wrinkled face, making him appear even more fearsome.

“You little bastard, you’ve grown bold—daring to threaten me with settling accounts. I’ll see how much you really amount to.”