SES Chapter 175 Part 1

Chapter 175

There was no one in Mu Dai’s room. Likewise, Meihua Jiuniang’s room was empty as well. All that remained was an unattended wheelchair, with its brocade cover draped loosely over the armrest.

Luo Ren’s throat went dry, his temples throbbing violently. He tried hard to calm himself, yet his thoughts were still a tangled mess. Cao Yanhua stood there at a loss, clutching the rose—unsure whether to hand it over or keep holding onto it.

Hearing the commotion, Zheng Mingshan rushed over, his expression dark.

The two people before him—one a newly accepted disciple, the other someone the master herself had acknowledged as Mu Dai’s “boyfriend”—were still, at the end of the day, outsiders who had just arrived. What right did they have to barge into his master’s room?

Seeing that Luo Ren had no intention of speaking, Cao Yanhua swallowed hard and hurriedly tried to explain.

“What my Brother Luo means is… it seems someone he has a feud with has come here. This flower—the flower is proof. The flower was in my junior master’s room, and now both my junior master and Grandmaster are gone.”

The advantage of being smart was that one could understand everything after hearing it just once—and even grasp the complex implications beneath the surface.

Luo Ren had an enemy. That person’s calling card was apparently a rose. That person had already arrived and left the rose in Mu Dai’s room. And now Mu Dai and the master were both missing.

Zheng Mingshan took the rose, sniffed it absentmindedly, then tossed it aside.

“Well? Are you done?” he said. “If so, leave. My master doesn’t like outsiders entering her room.”

Luo Ren forced himself to speak calmly. “Senior Brother, Mu Dai and Master may be in danger.”

Zheng Mingshan stared at him for a moment, then shrugged impatiently.

“I don’t know what kind of enemy you’ve offended, but let me remind you—my master, Meihua Jiuniang, is no ordinary person. I can’t last thirty moves against her myself, let alone when she’s together with Mu Dai.”

Was there really anyone in this world who could restrain both Meihua Jiuniang and Mu Dai at the same time? Zheng Mingshan didn’t believe so.

Luo Ren didn’t move. “They may be in danger. Senior Brother, I need your help.”

What kind of stubborn thinking was this—why couldn’t he get through to him?

Left with no choice, Zheng Mingshan pointed toward the room.

“Look for yourself. Do you see any signs of a struggle?”

“But Master isn’t in her wheelchair.”

Zheng Mingshan laughed. “Who says she has to sit in a wheelchair? Luo Ren, my master, has been disabled for over sixty years. Do you really think she hasn’t learned how to use crutches—or even some kind of prosthetic—to walk?”

Luo Ren froze. Was Zheng Mingshan saying Meihua Jiuniang had walked out on her own?

Too lazy to argue further, Zheng Mingshan walked straight to Meihua Jiuniang’s bed. It was a large Hui-style canopy bed, much bigger than Mu Dai’s. He reached out and pulled on an intricately carved wooden panel on the right side of the wall. With a firm tug, it slid open.

“Take a look for yourself,” he said.

Luo Ren stepped closer.

Now he understood. The bed was placed flush against the wall, and the large canopy structure functioned like a surrounding wooden cabinet. But in this one, part of the cabinet had been replaced with a narrow passage, leading to a small hidden door in the wall.

Meihua Jiuniang’s room had entrances both in front and behind.

Zheng Mingshan slid the panel shut again.

“Luo Ren, you know my master is old-school. In the martial world back then, the process of passing on leadership was extremely complicated—‘passing five trials and slaying six foes’ wouldn’t be an exaggeration. Sure, things are simpler now with so few people left, but my master didn’t want us to know and took Mu Dai out to handle some matters privately. I think that’s perfectly reasonable.”

“The only unexpected thing,” he added, glancing at the rose on the floor, “is that your enemy somehow showed up. Your trouble—your responsibility.”

Zheng Mingshan’s nonchalance might have made sense under normal circumstances, but once Luo Ren thought of Leopard, he couldn’t calm down no matter what.

“Where would Mu Dai and Master most likely go? I’m going to find them.”

They probably wouldn’t be wandering around town. The town was surrounded by mountains—most likely, they’d gone into the mountains.

Zheng Mingshan felt a headache coming on. He guessed what Luo Ren was thinking and gestured toward the outside.

“Take a look at this fog.”

“Around midnight to dawn is when the fog here is thickest. Youwu Town sits at the foot of the mountains—imagine how dense the fog is up there. I can guarantee that even with a high-powered flashlight, visibility would be at most ten meters. Besides, people here rarely go into the mountains.”

“Why?”

“There are two explanations. First, the terrain is strange—the layout twists and turns like a labyrinth. Most people who go in never make it back.”

He paused and looked at Luo Ren. “That part is true.”

At first, he’d been curious too. Relying on his training, he’d gone in with equipment, but after walking only a short distance, he’d felt alarmed and quickly turned back.

“Second, it’s said that before Liberation, bandits occupied the mountains and ruled them as their stronghold. Even though they were later wiped out, traps from those days remain. It’s extremely dangerous. So even though Youwu Town is backed by mountains, the locals have never relied on the mountains for their livelihood.”

He gave a dry laugh. “Tourism couldn’t even be developed. Otherwise, why leave such a great place unused? Early surveys all failed—equipment malfunctioned, compasses went haywire, and with fog year-round, even satellites can’t map what’s really inside.”

Luo Ren found it hard to accept. “Then why would Master and Mu Dai go in?”

Zheng Mingshan glanced at him.
“How would I know? I’m not the one inheriting Master’s legacy.”

That evening, shortly after dinner, Mu Dai went to knock on Meihua Jiuniang’s door.

No answer. Her master’s voice came from inside. “The time hasn’t come yet. Wait.”

Wait until when? She didn’t say. With their separation approaching, Mu Dai wanted to find Luo Ren, but she was afraid her master might call for her at any moment.

She kept checking the time and knocked a few more times. The last time, her master asked, “Is the fog thick?”

Mu Dai turned to look. The fog had nearly swallowed the night, blanketing everything. In her usual joking way, she thought: it’s like a huge dumpling wrapper, about to wrap Youwu Town into a dumpling.

Only then did her master let her in.

The moment she entered, Mu Dai sensed something was different. Meihua Jiuniang was still seated in her wheelchair, but the brocade cover was draped aside, and on her two severed legs were prosthetics.

These were different from the prosthetics she usually wore. Mu Dai had once heard Zheng Mingshan explain that Meihua Jiuniang had lost her legs before she was twenty. In her youthful stubbornness, she’d spent five or six years mastering crutches until she could move as fast as the wind. Later, finding crutches cumbersome, she studied modern prosthetics and designed a special pair herself, made of unusual materials. At first glance, they resembled curved golf club shafts—light, hard, yet flexible and springy.

Mu Dai had only heard of them. She’d never seen them before.

So these must be them. She couldn’t help staring.

“Mu Dai.”

Hearing the gravity in her master’s tone, Mu Dai immediately focused herself. She stepped forward and knelt on the yellow brocade cushion, respectful and upright.

“I’m here.”

“You know I intend to pass my legacy on to you?”

“Yes.”

“Our sect is small—there isn’t much of a legacy to speak of. But even if only one person remains, there must still be rules and discipline. Do you understand?”

“I do.”

“Passing this legacy to you is the same as giving you a responsibility. You must show accountability. Put away your girlish temper, your willfulness, your recklessness. From this day on, act with caution and speak with restraint. Even with those closest to you, secrets that must be kept must remain secret. Even if life becomes unbearable, you must continue living for the sake of this responsibility. Can you do that?”

“Yes.”