Chapter Nine: Devoured by the Tiger

Uncle Tiger’s expression was one of shock and disbelief. He barked sternly, “Was it you? Why did you do this?”

Che Ye Ming lowered his head, unable to meet Uncle Tiger’s eyes. After a long moment, he replied with bitter resignation, “I... I never wanted this either.”

Uncle Tiger heard Che Ye Ming’s lack of denial. How desperately he wished to hear Che Ye Ming refute the accusation. It was as though he had been struck heavily in the chest, staggering back several steps. After a long silence, his face darkened as he glared at Che Ye Ming, his trembling finger pointed accusingly as he roared, “Monster, you’re truly a monster... I watched you grow up. I always thought you were merely a bit spoiled and childish. Both your father and I had high hopes for you. But you—how could you become so depraved, slaughtering innocent people. Are you not afraid of bringing a curse upon yourself, of retribution? Have you lost all humanity?”

The more Uncle Tiger spoke, the angrier he became. At the height of his agitation, he could not help but lash out, his palm striking toward Che Ye Ming. Driven by fury, the blow was swift and severe, but halfway through, Uncle Tiger realized—this was his brother’s child. If he killed him, how could he face his brother? Moreover, Che Ye Ming was not inherently evil, only misguided. With proper guidance, perhaps he could return to the right path. With this in mind, Uncle Tiger withdrew much of the force from his attack.

Che Ye Ming, unaware of Uncle Tiger’s internal struggle, saw the ferocity of the incoming strike and braced himself. He dared not be careless, quickly crouching and focusing his energy to meet Uncle Tiger’s palm.

Uncle Tiger had expected to easily overpower Che Ye Ming, but he was astonished by the young man’s progress. In just a few months, Che Ye Ming had reached the pinnacle of the Violet Palace realm. Uncle Tiger’s heart filled with bitterness, and he sneered coldly, “The peak of Violet Palace, no wonder, no wonder.” Seeing Che Ye Ming’s extraordinary talent only made Uncle Tiger more heartbroken.

Uncle Tiger exhaled deeply, gazing at the burning ruins of Eight Mile Town. After a long moment, he spoke in a low voice, “Cultivators seek justice, but only punish the guilty. What fault did those common folk have? How could you be so ruthless? What difference is there between your actions and those of the demon sect?”

Che Ye Ming remained silent, and Uncle Tiger’s heart grew heavier. Did he not even have the courage to repent? Uncle Tiger looked up at the swirling sky, closing his eyes and feeling the many resentful spirits in the air. After a while, he murmured, “If I let you go today, the hundreds of souls who died unjustly would never forgive me.”

Though Uncle Tiger’s voice was not loud, Che Ye Ming was startled. His mind churned, his face flickering with indecision. What did Uncle Tiger mean? Was he truly willing to sever all ties and cleanse his brother’s household? Could he really be so resolute?

Che Ye Ming narrowed his eyes, studying Uncle Tiger’s impassive face. Suddenly, a wild idea flashed in his mind: strike first! The thought frightened him—this was Uncle Tiger, the man who had watched him grow up and contributed so much to his achievements. Was he really to kill him?

For the first time, Che Ye Ming hesitated. But the chance would soon pass—if he missed it, who knew who would live or die? A struggle flickered across his face. Do it, or not? He closed his eyes slowly, then abruptly opened them again, his resolve firm. Looking at Uncle Tiger with calm indifference, he said, “Uncle Tiger, I killed Miao Zongbao of Miao Manor in Ji Province as well.”

“What?” Uncle Tiger was startled by this sudden revelation. Miao Zongbao was dead? Killed by Ye Ming?

As Uncle Tiger reeled from this shock, Che Ye Ming struck with blinding speed. This was the blow he had long been preparing, his peak strike. The blade flashed with intoxicating sharpness, accompanied by a series of afterimages as it swept toward Uncle Tiger.

Uncle Tiger’s mind raced. He was still processing the unbelievable news when he sensed a terrifying danger. Who was attacking him—Ye Ming? Was the boy truly capable of threatening him? Uncle Tiger was, after all, a master at the mid-stage of the Return Origin realm. Even in the face of a sudden assault, he instantly adopted the best defensive posture. His waist sank slightly, left shoulder angled, right palm struck toward the blade at the critical moment—his reactions were swift.

Che Ye Ming seemed to anticipate this. Seeing Uncle Tiger’s palm, he met it head-on with his left hand, ignoring the internal energy that churned from the impact. His right hand, gripping the blade, did not pause, and he slashed fiercely at Uncle Tiger’s left chest, drawing a wave of blood. Having succeeded in his surprise attack, Che Ye Ming spun and leaped, his blade whirling with a howling gust, slicing toward Uncle Tiger like a silver wheel.

Uncle Tiger, wounded in the heart by Che Ye Ming’s strike, was shocked and furious. His cultivation could not even be unleashed to a tenth of its strength. Before he could react, the next blade descended like the scythe of death—beautiful yet chillingly dangerous. He managed only a slight backward lean before the spinning edge sliced through his abdomen, its dominating force shattering his core. Uncle Tiger was sent flying, crashing into a tree and collapsing limply beneath it.

Che Ye Ming wiped the blood from his mouth, glancing at the dying Uncle Tiger and murmured, “I didn’t want this. Why did you force me? Why must you all force me?”

Uncle Tiger heard the voice, his eyes fluttering open as a complicated smile formed on his lips. “Return Origin at twelve years old. Good... good. We truly did not misjudge you. The Che family has produced an extraordinary figure.”

Earlier, Uncle Tiger could have easily repelled Che Ye Ming with a strike, but he had underestimated him, believing Ye Ming was only at the peak of Violet Palace. He never suspected Che Ye Ming had concealed his true strength. With Ye Ming’s innate brilliance, even Uncle Tiger’s full strength at mid-Return Origin might not have been enough to stop him. For such a person to choose a sneak attack, it was little wonder Uncle Tiger suffered defeat.

Uncle Tiger coughed lightly, breathing heavily before he mocked, “No one forced you. You forced yourself. I only wanted to discipline you for your father’s sake. I didn’t want to watch you stray so far you could never return. I never intended to harm you. If I had, how could I face my oath of brotherhood, or repay your father’s life-saving kindness?”

Che Ye Ming shuddered at these words, quickly stepping forward and bending to place a hand on Uncle Tiger’s shoulder. “But what did you mean by those words earlier? Weren’t you trying to kill me?”

A hint of surprise flashed in Uncle Tiger’s eyes. He smiled bitterly, then after a long pause, said with self-deprecation, “I was only waiting for you to give me an explanation—something that could ease my conscience... cough, cough...”

Uncle Tiger finally succumbed to death. Che Ye Ming stared blankly at his corpse, tears streaming down his face. After a long time, he murmured, “Though your temper was harsh, you were always good to our Che family.” He could not help recalling his childhood, when Uncle Tiger showered him with affection, and his heart grew restless.

The sky gradually darkened, and a gentle rain began to fall, shrouding Eight Mile Town in mist. The rain swept away the sins of mankind like a brush. The droplets gathered on the hillside, forming small streams of blood that rolled down the earth, pooling at Che Ye Ming’s feet before separating and flowing into the distance.

Each raindrop, crystal clear like morning dew, splattered on Che Ye Ming’s face, then scattered away. He slowly wiped the rain from his face, gazed at the secluded corner where Uncle Tiger was buried, and departed in desolation.

From the wind and rain came a faint sigh: Perhaps you have seen what you should not have seen. After a long while, silence. Night fell, and Eight Mile Town was restored to its former tranquility—so quiet it seemed to hold no trace of sound.

The Southern Frontier, Ji Province, Miao Family.

In the Miao family’s main hall, an elderly man paced back and forth with his hands behind his back. For some reason, his mind was unsettled all day, and the feeling grew stronger in the afternoon. He glanced out at the pitch-black night, sighing as an inexplicable sense of loss welled up inside him. He was puzzled, but when he tried to focus on this feeling, it slipped away.

He muttered, “Is something about to happen? What could it be, and why is the sense so strong? If only my cultivation was higher, I might calculate it more precisely.” This man was none other than Miao Shilin, the current head of the Miao family and one of the renowned sword masters of Ji Province in the Southern Frontier. Although the Miao family was a major force in Ji Province, in the vast expanse of the Southern Frontier, it was but a modest clan.

Yet, ten thousand years ago, not just in the Southern Frontier but throughout the Southern Continent, the Miao family was famed as one of the great houses. At that time, enthusiasts named the ten most illustrious families the Ten Great Immortal Houses, and Miao was among them. When the title spread, the cultivation world was unusually silent—an implicit acknowledgment. The designation persisted to this day.

As the architect of the Miao family’s golden age, the then head was revered as the Medicine King by all cultivators—a pinnacle of prosperity. But now, like the Che family, the Miao family had retreated to Ji Province in the Southern Frontier. Who would know that the humble Miao clan of Ji Province was once the mighty Miao family that dominated the Southern Continent?

While Miao Shilin paced alone, an elderly woman with a sickly appearance hurried in, her face anxious. “Master, have you seen Zongbao?”

Miao Shilin was startled. His wife had been bedridden for years, rarely visiting the main hall. Now, seeing her so distraught and asking about Miao Zongbao, he was alarmed.

He quickly spoke with grave concern, “Madam, what’s happened to Zongbao?”

Lady Miao wept as she replied, “Master, I just dreamed Zongbao stood before me, covered in blood, hair disheveled—I am so worried.”

Hearing it was only a dream, Miao Shilin relaxed somewhat. He knew his wife’s lifespan was nearly spent, her body invaded by evil, causing her to be anxious. He gently reassured her, “Zongbao is upright and cautious, with many disciples following him. Here in Ji Province, nothing should happen.”

After seeing his wife off, Miao Shilin summoned the steward, asking when Zongbao should return. The steward said he ought to have come back already, but must have been delayed by some matter on the road.

Normally, this would not be unusual, but given the events of the day, Miao Shilin’s unease deepened. When such anxiety took root, he could no longer calm himself. He ordered that, whatever the cost, Zongbao’s whereabouts be found at once.

A few days later, Che Ye Ming returned to the Che family. He found the atmosphere strange, and his heart sank—could his actions have been discovered after all?

After a moment’s hesitation, he went to see his father, only to find Che Hongshi’s face shrouded in sorrow. Che Ye Ming’s alarm grew, and he cautiously asked, “Father, has something important happened?”

Che Hongshi’s expression grew even darker. He stared blankly at Che Ye Ming, making the boy uneasy, then finally answered with a question, “Why didn’t Uncle Tiger return with you?”

Che Ye Ming nearly stumbled in shock. He’d acted so covertly—how had it been discovered? What should he do now? His mind raced, yet he could not find a safe solution.

He bitterly regretted his rashness. Sensing the strange atmosphere, he should have investigated first. If something was wrong, he could have fled at once. Now he had walked right into the trap—how could he escape? With his father’s stubbornness, all for the sake of brotherhood and giving Uncle Tiger an explanation, he would surely not let Che Ye Ming off easily. He might even lose his life.