Chapter Fourteen: Innate

That’s right, Feng Qichuan sacrificed his entire essence to achieve the Innate Realm.

He had only three days left; when that time came, he would die, his flame extinguished and his oil spent. Yet Feng Qichuan harbored no regrets. Who said that small men could not rise against their fate? Who said that those of humble station deserved to be bullied and oppressed?

Today, he would make every member of the Moruo Sect’s branch pay with their lives, accompanying his wife and child to the grave.

The atmosphere throughout the City Lord’s Mansion was filled with a chilling tension, as if death itself pervaded the halls.

After Feng Qichuan’s escape, Ma Yu sensed that something was amiss. His lair was exceedingly secret—how had Feng Qichuan discovered it?

There were two entrances to Ma Yu’s hideout: one within the City Lord’s Mansion, and another on the far side of Yingchuan City. The culprit whom Feng Qichuan tracked had no time to flee to the distant entrance, which was why Huai Ling witnessed the scene she had seen earlier.

Thus, Ma Yu concluded that it must be the entrance within the City Lord’s Mansion that had been exposed.

But the matter did not end so simply. Following the clues, Ma Yu soon discovered the abandoned woodshed where Feng Qichuan had once hidden.

An ordinary person would have dismissed their suspicions at this point, but Ma Yu, by nature deeply distrustful, pressed on. Even if Feng Qichuan sensed danger within the mansion, how could he so quickly find the entrance?

After a thorough investigation, Ma Yu’s eyes turned toward his own backyard, for only his wives and concubines had access to such a hidden place.

They were, in truth, nothing more than smoke screens for him. If they behaved, they would enjoy endless wealth and honor.

Yet, they always seemed to do precisely what they ought not.

Take, for example, his third wife. The outside world believed she had been dismissed for gossiping, but in fact, she had been silenced after witnessing Ma Yu entering the tunnel.

The Moruo Sect possessed hypnotic arts, and Ma Yu applied them to all his wives and concubines, sparing none. It wasn’t long before he made a discovery regarding Huai Ling.

Her actions were even worse than the third wife’s, which enraged Ma Yu to the point that he immediately "dismissed" her that very day.

Of course, this too was merely for show.

As the City Lord, he needed to set an example, lest he become fodder for rumors.

...

Feng Qichuan had only just stepped into the mansion when he saw Ma Yu leading almost the entire Moruo Sect in a sweeping force of hundreds, imposing and formidable.

The weakest among them were second-rate martial artists, with dozens of first-rate warriors. Such numbers rivaled those of any martial sect.

Ma Yu had received news of Feng Qichuan’s appearance in the city as soon as he arrived. He watched as the City Guard confronted Feng Qichuan, choosing not to intervene immediately but to bide his time. Once the City Guard had been worn down, Ma Yu would seize the perfect opportunity to act.

Though the City Guard nominally belonged to him as City Lord, everyone knew that Sun Xin had founded the force and was its true master.

To Ma Yu, Sun Xin was a latent threat lurking at his side. If Sun Xin weren't still useful, Ma Yu would have long since rid himself of this thorn in his side.

Feng Qichuan’s arrival was just the occasion to eliminate this obstacle.

"City Lord, who are all these people?" Sun Xin asked, incredulous, a sense of foreboding rising within him.

Recalling Feng Qichuan’s earlier words, Sun Xin quickly realized something was amiss.

Where had Ma Yu recruited so many martial artists? Or, rather, what was his true intention?

If it were all aboveboard, Sun Xin would have nothing to say—a city lord hiring guards was reasonable. But the key was that Ma Yu had done all this in secret, never openly.

"Haha, these years have been hard on Commander Sun. Without you, Yingchuan would have descended into chaos. If you hadn’t stood firm, the imperial court would have soon turned its attention to me," Ma Yu sneered. At this point, he saw no need for further concealment; after all, everyone who knew this secret was about to die.

His gaze shifted to Feng Qichuan, who had been giving him headaches. Unexpectedly, Feng Qichuan had delivered himself to him.

Yet, something felt off.

Or perhaps, Feng Qichuan possessed some hidden advantage.

With that thought, Ma Yu shed his contempt and prepared himself for battle.

Even without any trump card, Feng Qichuan could not be underestimated—an Innate Realm martial artist on a rampage was no ordinary foe.

"So all those murders in the city were orchestrated by you," Sun Xin murmured as if struck by lightning, his mind reeling.

"Unfortunately, you understood too late," Ma Yu said, unwilling to risk prolonging this episode, eager to end it swiftly.

In the end, both Sun Xin and Feng Qichuan were but insignificant pawns.

Small men must be prepared to be used as pieces on another’s board.

Ants have no right to choose.

With a rush of movement, hundreds of Ma Yu’s martial artists formed a tight circle, guarding every corner, determined not to let Feng Qichuan escape as he had before.

Ma Yu, confident of victory, surged forward at full speed, his palms striking out, colliding with Feng Qichuan’s blade in a scene that mirrored their earlier encounter.

Yet the outcome was utterly different—Ma Yu, even at full strength, could not move Feng Qichuan a single step.

"Impossible! How can you be so strong?" Ma Yu’s pupils contracted in shock. Even among equals, no one could withstand his double palm strikes, let alone Feng Qichuan, who had been defeated and routed just days before.

Feng Qichuan let out a chilling, guttural laugh, sending shivers down the spines of all who heard.

But what happened next nearly made Ma Yu’s jaw drop—a visible surge of power radiated from Feng Qichuan, intensifying at a terrifying rate, imposing an irresistible pressure.

At that moment, Feng Qichuan moved, seizing Ma Yu by the throat and lifting him upward.

"You..." A suffocating force left Ma Yu gasping for air, his face turning livid. He struggled desperately, but Feng Qichuan’s hand seemed possessed, impossible to break free from.

Expressionless, Feng Qichuan held Ma Yu aloft, buffeted by the currents of air. Ma Yu felt his already muddled consciousness begin to dissolve.