Chapter Five: The Azure Dragon Ring

This was an unnamed mountain, its elevation exceeding two thousand meters. At its summit stood two rows of houses built with red bricks and green tiles, which, nestled amidst the verdant forest, exuded both tranquility and understated elegance.

A middle-aged man with one arm, dressed in a long robe, stood silently at a corner of the clearing, gazing into the distance. His solitary figure seemed all the more desolate and forlorn.

With deft movements, Long Fei maneuvered the parachute above his head, eyes fixed on the approaching white circle below. When he was about ten meters from the ground, he decisively cut the cord strapped to his back, performed several somersaults in midair, and landed steadily within the circle, while the parachute drifted down the mountainside.

"Uncle Fu!" Long Fei greeted the middle-aged man warmly, but then suddenly cried out in alarm, "Your arm, Uncle Fu! What happened to your arm?"

The one-armed man had spotted Long Fei long before. His eyes had flickered with both kindness and apology, but now his face was an image of bitter grief. He patted Long Fei’s shoulder, a trace of comfort in his weary smile. "It’s good that you’re back. It’s good that you’re back."

Long Fei felt a deep bond with the man before him. He vividly remembered the torment he and Fenghuang endured a decade ago, when the old master had brought them up this mountain. Had it not been for Uncle Fu’s covert care, Long Fei doubted he would have survived to this day. Thus, he felt little affection for the old master—though it was true the man had raised him, Long Fei always sensed a natural enmity from his guardian. The memories of childhood were etched too deeply; even when the old master later treated him better, Long Fei instinctively believed it was merely a means of control.

Long Fei even harbored some resentment toward the old master. At the thought of Fenghuang, pain pierced his heart, and guilt gnawed at him. If not for Fenghuang, his Pure Yang constitution would never have been awakened, and his martial skills would not have surpassed the old master’s. But why did Fenghuang have to be his sister? Why had the old master stayed silent until calamity had struck before revealing the truth?

"Who did this?" A murderous gleam flashed in Long Fei’s eyes. It was not only the old master’s death that drove him, but an urge for vengeance on behalf of the one-armed man before him.

Uncle Fu was deeply moved, yet his guilt only deepened. He struggled to compose himself and looked intently at Long Fei. "I can’t tell you now, but I don’t think it will be long before they come for you."

"Very well. Now that the old master is gone, what am I to do? Keep killing?" Long Fei’s confusion was evident. When hatred festers with no outlet, a man becomes truly lost.

"No. The master had you kill to temper you, but that time has passed." Uncle Fu handed him a ring, ancient and faintly glowing green, adorned with a lifelike dragon carving. "He wanted me to give you this. Take it to Shanghai and go into hiding. What you need to learn now is not martial arts, but the ways of the world."

Long Fei recognized the ring—it had always adorned the old master’s hand. He had not expected it to be passed to him; perhaps the old master had cared more than he thought.

"And what of your vengeance? Uncle Fu, the old master did not bring us up the mountain and train us so painstakingly for nothing, did he?" Long Fei frowned. He truly did not know what his future held. Was he finally free? Could he live as an ordinary man, no longer a killer? But what did he know besides taking lives?

Uncle Fu took a sip of tea, his expression grave. "From the moment you accept this ring, you can no longer stand aside. You have much ahead of you. Go to Shanghai at dawn, and do not return. If you can seize a few days of freedom, cherish them, lest you regret it later."

Long Fei did not fully understand, but nodded regardless.

"What about Iron Ox and Dog?" At the thought of the companions he’d grown up with, warmth filled Long Fei’s heart. It had been three years since they’d last met.

"They exist for you alone. Don’t worry, they will soon join you in Shanghai and lend you their strength. As for Fenghuang, I have summoned her in your name. She should already be in Shanghai by now."

At this, Long Fei’s expression darkened.

Do not mention Fenghuang. The mere mention of her name sent a stabbing pain through Long Fei’s heart, yet he knew that running away was futile—he could only blame fate.

Sensing Long Fei’s suffering, Uncle Fu drew a deep breath. "Enough, get some rest now. Before you leave tomorrow, pay your respects at the old master’s grave."

Long Fei nodded.

Old master, how irresponsible of you to leave just like that, without any thought for what you’ve left behind!

Long Fei did not sleep that night. The old master was dead, Uncle Fu had lost an arm, and he did not even know who was responsible. He felt helpless, yet he trusted Uncle Fu—if he was told he was not yet a match for their enemies, it was for his own protection. Perhaps he was being sent away so swiftly for his own safety.

But the anger in his chest had no outlet.

At dawn, Long Fei went to pay his respects at the old master’s grave.

It was a new grave, hastily covered, with only a crude wooden tablet. On it, he noticed a line of small characters: "The Tomb of Qi Lao of the Capital."

So the old master was from the capital, Long Fei thought to himself.

In life, the old master had always cared about appearances, yet in death, his end was so bleak. Long Fei could not help but feel a pang of sorrow.

Leaving the nameless mountain, Long Fei let out a long, piercing cry, his body flashing away like lightning. Each stride covered several meters, and with a light tap of the branches, he soared farther still, startling the wild monkeys in the forest into a chorus of shrieks.

Suddenly, a loud boom echoed behind him. Turning, Long Fei saw flames rising high from the mountain peak.

He had trained here since childhood, and every blade of grass and tree was familiar. Now, knowing he could never return, his heart was heavy. With another cry, he leapt away, swifter than before.

Beneath a large tree on the nameless peak, Uncle Fu stood respectfully before an elderly man in his fifties, also wearing a long robe. The elder was vigorous, clad in spotless white garments that spoke of meticulous care.

Watching Long Fei’s figure recede, excitement flashed in the old man’s eyes. Stroking his goatee, he chuckled, "The Pure Yang Constitution truly is formidable. It seems his martial prowess has indeed surpassed mine."

Uncle Fu remained silent, though his brow furrowed slightly.

The elder, still watching the horizon, continued, "Liu Fu, if Long Fei were to face that man from the capital, who would win?"

Uncle Fu considered carefully before replying, "Long Fei may still not be his match."

"Why?"

"Master, have you forgotten? The man from the capital also possesses the Pure Yang Constitution, but his was awakened by his own effort, while Long Fei’s was triggered by accident through Fenghuang. Moreover, Long Fei is still young—his skills are yet unrefined." Uncle Fu spoke while observing the old master’s expression.

The old master’s brow creased, then relaxed. "Ah, Uncle Fu, I know you are deeply fond of Long Fei—"

"Liu Fu would not dare!" Uncle Fu shuddered with fear.

"Enough, I know you fear I’ll send Long Fei against that man now. Don’t worry, I’ve waited twenty years; I can wait a little longer. Next year, the twenty years will be up. I want to see how that man will cling to his seat without the Azure Dragon Ring. With Long Fei, Fenghuang, and myself, surely we can finish him!" Hatred glinted in the old master’s eyes as he slammed his fist into a nearby tree. With a thunderous crack, the thick trunk was split clean by the force.

"Master—" Uncle Fu hesitated to speak.

The old master closed his eyes for a long moment, composing himself, then opened them, still imposing. "Speak your mind."

"I—I—"

"Liu Fu, after all these years, do I not know you? Are you here to plead for Long Fei?" The old master’s expression soured.

Uncle Fu nodded.

"Haha, am I not doing all this for him? Just think, what glory awaits him in the future! After twenty years of planning, do you think I would abandon it all for a word from you? Impossible, absolutely impossible!" The old master’s agitation returned.

Uncle Fu fell silent. He owed the old master too much; serving him was his only path in life.

"Enough, let us prepare to leave. By the way, Liu Fu, do you resent me?" The old master turned, his gaze lingering on Liu Fu’s empty sleeve, and felt a pang of regret. Liu Fu had been loyal for so many years, and now had lost an arm for his sake. Was he too cruel?

Uncle Fu quickly lowered his head. "Master, please do not say such things. For your grand plan, not just an arm—even my life, I would give without hesitation!"

"Good, I did not misjudge you." The old master patted Uncle Fu’s shoulder, his own eyes growing moist.

(Congratulations to Fish for a successful new book launch! If you have flowers or tickets, feel free to shower them! Most importantly, don’t forget to add it to your collection!)