Chapter Forty-Two: All People Are but Ants

Ma Xue'e watched the scene unfolding on the arena, her heart leaping with joy.

Her slender, delicate fingers played with her hair, the contrast between pale hands and dark locks striking, teasing at one's nerves.

Again and again, twisting and untwisting, winding and unwinding.

Ma Xue'e was thoroughly entertained, her face radiant with smiles, exclaiming happily, "Brother Chen always seemed clumsy, but I never expected him to have such skill. With his sturdy build, to be able to execute a sweeping leg kick while throwing a double punch at the same time—it's truly impressive!"

"This time, it's certain that someone from our Luoyang Martial Arts Hall will win!"

Pure and kind-hearted, Ma Xue'e cherished friendship deeply—once someone was counted within her circle, she treated them with genuine sincerity. Thus, in her heart, the honor of Luoyang Martial Arts Hall was her own honor.

Mo Feng looked at the mischievous, adorable, innocent Ma Xue'e, and had to admit that a girl like her was destined, when grown, to be the object of many men's pursuit. Yet, precisely because of this, Mo Feng felt a greater urge to tear her apart.

Why? Why should such innocent girls exist in this world, when another must live in a filthy hell, used and discarded by thousands, stripped of all dignity?

The members of Luoyang Martial Arts Hall paid no heed to Mo Feng's abnormal state.

"That's not certain. It's not that I underestimate Brother Xiangru, but that Bai Shui Martial Arts Hall's Bo'er gives me a sense of something unusual—he might be a troublesome opponent," Luo Changning mused.

Beside him, Ma Qingyun's brow twitched imperceptibly, as if deep in thought, his mind lost somewhere unknown. Earlier, he had only glanced at the matches before losing interest, appearing aloof as though the bouts were mere child's play, unable to stir him at all.

When Bo'er entered the stage, he too merely looked a few times before closing his eyes to rest. Yet, something caught his attention, and his gaze grew deep and intent, fixed unwaveringly on the platform.

A faint aura of desolation lingered about Ma Qingyun, his thoughts drifting farther away, eyes still watching the arena, though his mind wandered to places none could guess...

Blood, blood everywhere.

The floor was littered with dozens of cold corpses—torsos, limbs, viscera, intestines scattered across the white jade tiles, making the scene even more eerie and terrifying.

White and red, fiercely intertwined.

In that place, only three people were alive.

One was a boy not yet four, fists clenched, suppressing his emotions as he stood atop the high platform.

Another was a man of commanding, handsome features, seated casually yet imposingly behind the boy, his eagle-like eyes filled with indifference, radiating an aura of dominion.

The third lay among the pile of corpses, barely alive, yet with a resolute and sorrowful smile on his face, as if unconcerned about his own fate.

"Cough, cough. Do you think that by killing me, there will be no one else? You're wrong. Scoundrels like you—countless people want to sever your head!" The man on the ground wore a smile of resolve and mockery, his eyes ablaze with mad hatred.

---

"So what if that's true? Do you think I would be afraid? Without her, I already live in hell. Even if the whole world curses me to damnation, I do not fear, for I am the one who can send them to hell."

Such words should have been spoken with passionate, bloodthirsty arrogance, yet the man uttered them with an expressionless face, his emotions untouched, except when mentioning "her"—then, a hint of longing and sorrow colored his voice.

"Silence, villain! You are unworthy to speak of the mistress. You are a devil, incapable of love, ruled by desire and stripped of reason—a beast!" Hearing the handsome man's words, the smile vanished from the face of the man on the ground, replaced by deep hatred and loathing.

"Heh, I don't understand love? You all say I don't understand love, don't deserve it, but I loved her for twenty-seven years. Isn't that proof enough? Why does no one believe in my love? Why..." The handsome man did not grow angry at the insult, but fell into contemplation.

Seeing the confusion on the man's face atop the platform, the man on the ground snorted coldly, the mockery at his lips deepening.

"Enough, I'm tired. I won't play your games any longer. Considering you once served as her shadow guard, I'll leave your corpse intact," the handsome man said, raising his brows, his tone patronizing.

"Once a shadow guard, always a shadow guard. My life was given to the mistress long ago; lingering this long was only to kill you, villain!"

"…" The boy raised his eyes toward the man on the ground, as if wanting to speak.

The man noticed the boy's gaze, his face alternating between red and pale, torn between love and hate.

After a moment's struggle, he finally spoke: "You are the mistress's disgrace! Her eternal stain!"

Hearing this, the boy's face turned ashen, all color drained, his body trembling.

Am I truly a disgrace, a stain?

Surely, for why else would mother never hold me, never smile at me?

She must have loathed me...

Thinking of the past, the boy grew paler, nearly collapsing.

The man on the ground saw this, his eyes deep as the sea, their emotion indiscernible—perhaps pity, perhaps anger, perhaps grief.

The handsome man watched their interaction with cold eyes, a faint smile at his lips, gazing indifferently at the blood-soaked man below as he spoke: "She is dead. Now, no one can protect your wretched life!"

"Fire the arrows!" The man gave the command, utterly devoid of emotion.

The boy's pupils dilated, his face flooded with panic. He opened his mouth to protest but found himself unable to utter a sound.

There was no fourth living soul in the room, but at the man's command, countless arrows flew from all directions toward the man on the ground.

Beams, floorboards, windows...

Arrows shot from every place, all targeting one man. Yet his face showed no fear, only calm acceptance, a sense of release.

---

Mistress, I failed to protect you, letting you fall into the villain's hands, and Bo Yi's heart is full of guilt. Now, though I cannot kill that dog, I can reunite with you in the underworld! This time, I will never let anyone harm you again!

Countless arrows pierced Bo Yi's body, yet he seemed not to feel a shred of pain, as though those arrows struck someone else.

At last, Bo Yi's body collapsed entirely, lifeless, his lips marked with release and longing, and a faint regret.

What was he regretting?

Was it the boy upon the platform?

No one would ever know, for Bo Yi was dead—dead beyond any hope of return.

The handsome man withdrew his gaze from Bo Yi's riddled corpse, his expression calm and unaffected. Glancing at the dazed boy beside him, he frowned slightly.

"It's only a death; what's there to fear? With your status, the scenes you'll face in the future will be far crueler than this—fields strewn with corpses, or battlefields without smoke."

The boy's face finally regained a hint of color; coldly, he looked at the incomparable man and asked, "Is human life so cheap in your eyes, father?"

"Heh, to me, human life is no more than that of ants." The man's face betrayed no excess emotion, merely stating a fact.

Lowering his eyes, the boy asked, "What about me and my sister? In your heart, are we mere ants as well?"

The handsome man did not answer, but spoke for himself: "The reason I let you witness Bo Yi's death today was to tell you—aside from your mother, no one else matters. Now that she is dead, you have no value; your existence was solely to make her happy. Nothing else. Even as my children, you and she are the same."

"So, don't expect my protection. Other than yourself, no one will help you!"

The boy's icy gaze met the equally indifferent gaze of the handsome man; the two stared at each other for a long time.

"I understand now. In this world, apart from you, father, everyone else in your eyes is nothing more than an ant." With that, the boy stepped away, heading toward the door.

He walked across dried, still moist blood, his face no longer pale but masked by a stubborn chill.

He did not pause as he passed Bo Yi.

And with that, the memory ended…