Chapter Forty-Two: The Stratagem of Sowing Discord (Part Two)
Mu Shijin, in order to turn Xiao Ling against his enemies, disguised himself as a demon soldier and infiltrated the demon camp.
Within the camp, he met Xiao Ling’s wet nurse, who in truth was his birth mother. At Mu Shijin’s urging, Wei recounted Xiao Ling’s true origins in detail.
It turned out that twenty years ago, demon soldiers invaded the Great Xia Kingdom. Unable to withstand the assault, the kingdom’s troops retreated repeatedly, leaving the local people to suffer. The demon soldiers plundered and slaughtered the common folk; Xiao Ling’s grandparents perished tragically, and his mother, Xiao Chunhua, was kidnapped. She was offered as a beauty to the Left Prime Minister, Tuoliba, and endured unspeakable humiliation.
Driven to despair, Xiao Chunhua discovered she was pregnant. Unable to abandon the child within her, she endured, giving birth while under house arrest. When Tuoliba saw that Xiao Chunhua had birthed a half-human, half-demon child, and her beauty had faded, he released her, arranging for her to raise the child somewhere in the Kingdom of Ten Thousand Demons.
However, she was forbidden to raise him as his mother; she was only allowed to use the name Wei and care for Xiao Ling as his wet nurse.
When Xiao Ling turned five, Tuoliba sent people to take him away, grouping him with other young half-demons for training. During this time, Wei never saw Xiao Ling again.
At fifteen, Tuoliba brought Xiao Ling back, recognizing him as his adopted son. Wei, still in the prime minister’s household, continued to care for Xiao Ling as his wet nurse. Tuoliba invited experts to instruct Xiao Ling in demon arts.
When Xiao Ling turned eighteen and his training was complete, Tuoliba sent him to serve in the army. Unexpectedly, Xiao Ling, relying on his own abilities, distinguished himself quickly and became the vanguard.
It was precisely because of this that Wei, worried about Xiao Ling’s ruthless ways, decided to follow him to the army camp.
Wei spoke, and Xiao Ling was stunned. He could not have imagined that Tuoliba, whom he had respected as a father, was actually his enemy. Recalling Tuoliba’s constant concern for him—was it all a lie? And his unusual appearance—was he truly, as others whispered, a mongrel?
No, Wei was his wet nurse—how could she suddenly be his birth mother?
With these thoughts, he turned his sword towards Wei, shouting angrily, “Nonsense! Nurse, I have always treated you well—how could you deceive me?”
He then pointed his sword at Mu Shijin: “Tell me, who are you? Who sent you? How dare you threaten my wet nurse?!”
Seeing Xiao Ling’s disbelief, Mu Shijin pressed him: “Xiao, you ungrateful wretch! How dare you treat your mother so disrespectfully? You don’t believe what Madam Wei says, do you? Just look at yourself—how much you resemble her!”
Xiao Ling paused—indeed, many demons had remarked since childhood that he looked like his nurse. Could he truly be related to her by blood?
He gripped his sword tightly, then picked up a bronze mirror from the table and examined his reflection.
He had never truly looked before. Now, he saw—the nose, the eyes, the mouth... how could they be so alike?
His sword hand went limp.
Clang!
The sword fell to the ground.
“Ling’er!”
Wei, tears in her eyes, seeing her son bewildered, drew near and gently touched his shoulder.
“Don’t touch me!”
Xiao Ling, as if electrified, pushed her arm away and stepped back.
“What you say isn’t true—it can’t be true!”
He shook his head violently, unable to accept the reality.
With a cry, he spun around and, like a madman, dashed out of the tent.
“Ling’er!”
Wei, frantic, hurried after him. Mu Shijin, not daring to delay, followed suit.
Xiao Ling, screaming wildly, ran like an arrow to the stables. He grabbed his warhorse, mounted, and spurred it forward. Man and horse, like a whirlwind, tore through the demon camp and vanished within moments.
Suddenly, the weather changed. Dark clouds gathered, fierce winds rose, and torrential rain poured down.
Hailstones mixed with the rain, striking painfully. The cold seeped into every inch of his skin, as if needles piercing each pore. Xiao Ling’s face was ashen; he bit his lips until they bled, oblivious to the pain.
He heard only the howling wind, his vision blurred by rain and mist. Fury, confusion, inferiority, and self-loathing surged within him.
He shouted repeatedly, “Why?! Why?! Why?!”
He rode on, heedless of direction, galloping wildly.
He did not know how long or how far he had ridden.
The wind ceased, the rain stopped, and the sun broke through the clouds.
Before him stretched endless grasslands, dotted with wildflowers and the scent of earth and blossoms.
Xiao Ling had no mind for this beauty; he pressed onward, his spirit spent, close to collapse.
Suddenly, a dark shadow flashed before him—a burly figure blocked his path.
“Whoa!”
Xiao Ling halted his horse, which reared and stopped.
Looking down from his mount, he recognized the giant wild man who, a month earlier, had rescued Ye Feng and pursued Xiao Ling, threatening to take his head.
Who was this wild man? How had he come to be here?
He was, in fact, Li Xiong.
Five years ago, to save Ye Feng, Li Xiong had lured the soldiers away. The soldiers chased him relentlessly through the city. Seeing the gates unguarded, he fled into the wild.
The pursuers drove him into the mountains. Unfamiliar with the terrain, he became lost.
He wandered for months—drinking from streams, hunting wild beasts, and eating raw meat, fur and blood together.
Thus, after three months, he had not escaped the mountains. Instead, eating raw meat, his body grew hair, and he became a wild man.
You may wonder: How vast were these mountains that Li Xiong could not find his way out?
But do not forget—Li Xiong was simple-minded, unable to distinguish directions, never reading the sun or stars. He only knew to eat and sleep, wandering aimlessly.
Relying on his strength, he crashed through forests, unafraid of thorns or dense vines. Over time, his skin toughened, his body became as hard as iron.
One day, as he wandered, the path grew narrower. He entered a place unlike any he had seen before.
There he found a cave, pitch-black and bottomless.
Unconcerned about snakes or monsters, he plunged in headlong.
He stumbled and climbed for a stick of incense’s time, finally seeing a sliver of light.
Excited, he quickened his pace and emerged from the cave.
Outside, the scene was breathtaking—mountain flowers in full bloom, fragrance everywhere, as if in a fairyland.
A colossal ancient tree stood, entwined with old vines, its branches and roots sprawling, its canopy lush, shading a vast area.
Cool breezes swept beneath, delightfully refreshing.
At the center sat a meditation mat, upon which rested an old man with a youthful face and white beard, exuding an immortal aura, deep in meditation.
Before him lay a tray of fruit—fresh, large and small, clustered and solitary, dewy, gleaming, and vibrant, tempting the palate.
Li Xiong’s stomach rumbled at the sight. Without ceremony, he stepped forward, grabbed the fruit, and devoured it.
His mouth was large—within moments, he had finished it all.
Wiping his mouth with his arm, he turned to leave.
At that moment, the old man opened his eyes and coughed lightly. “Young man, why didn’t you ask before eating my fruit?”
Li Xiong scratched his head and replied, “Why not? Isn’t this for eating?”
The old man smiled. “It is, but it was meant for me. If you eat it all, what do I have?”
Li Xiong shrugged indifferently. “If it’s for eating, you eat, I eat, it’s all the same, isn’t it?”
With that, he turned to leave as if nothing had happened.
“Hey! Young man, don’t go!”
The old man chuckled, tore a vine from the tree, and with a swift motion, threw it, entangling Li Xiong’s leg.
Li Xiong thought, “You say ‘Don’t go,’ and I stay? That’s not the way I’ve ever lived!”
He ignored the old man and tried to walk forward.
But—his leg wouldn’t move!
He struggled harder, but the vine seemed fused to him, unmoving.
“Old man, what trickery is this?” Li Xiong protested, crouching to tug at the vine.
Yet the vine, like a snake, climbed up his body, growing larger, soon binding him tightly.
Li Xiong was immobilized.
As the saying goes: a wise man doesn’t suffer in vain.
At this point, one should admit defeat and beg for mercy.
But Li Xiong was stubborn. He cursed, “Old man, you decrepit fool! Let me go! If you don’t, I’ll tear your head off!”
He struggled fiercely as he cursed.
The old man, amused, was not angered. “You want me to let go? Fine, I shall!”
With a gesture, the vine stopped growing and quickly retracted, shrinking back to the tree.
Li Xiong, in the midst of struggling, was released unexpectedly and fell to the ground.
He got up, embarrassed and angry, and shouted, “I’ll pull your head off!”
He lunged at the old man.
But missed completely.
Turning, he saw the old man smiling at him.
Oblivious, Li Xiong pointed at the old man and shouted, “Don’t run!”
He charged again.
So it went—Li Xiong lunged and lunged, until he was out of breath, unable even to touch a hair on the old man.
Was Li Xiong clumsy?
Not at all! In the mountains, he could catch monkeys and birds.
The fault lay in the old man’s agility—ever-changing and impossible to grasp.
Seeing Li Xiong exhausted, the old man smiled and said, “Child, tired now? If you admit defeat, call me master, and I will teach you my skills.”
You might call Li Xiong foolish, but he wasn’t. Hearing this, he was overjoyed—such fortune!
He fell to his knees with a loud thud and called, “Master, Li Xiong bows to you!”
Even now, he referred to himself by name, unable to resist taking advantage.
He knocked his head three times, loud enough to shake the earth.
He paid no mind to pain.
The old man, unperturbed, helped him up with both hands and laughed heartily.
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