Ch 30: The Cannon Fodder Won’t Play Along Anymore [QT]

Before Zhang shi could flare up, the blockheaded Mu Jiafeng grew anxious at once.

He yanked Mu Xing over, looked him up and down twice, then hurriedly turned to Zhang shi and Mu Dazhu:
“In that case, Father, Mother, we’d better hurry and take Xiaobao away. Xiaobao’s body is so weak—if someone clashes with his fate and makes him sick, what’ll we do then?”

Hearing this, Old Madam Mu quickly pressed her palms together and chanted Amitabha, nerves taut:
“Jiafeng is right. Let’s pack and go quickly—we mustn’t let Xiaobao be harmed.”

In these times, people were deeply superstitious about fate and spirits. Zhang shi had been furious at the old nurse’s tone, but hearing her family speak this way, she couldn’t help feeling uneasy too.

She went to Mu Xing’s side, touched his cheek, and asked with concern:
“Xiaobao, do you feel unwell anywhere?”

Mu Xing shook his head and casually glanced at the old stewardess.

As expected, her face was already black as the bottom of a pot.

He didn’t believe she dared joke about the young master’s health; there really might be something to this “fate clash.” But it was obvious she wasn’t here just to deliver a message.

She was here to intimidate, to humiliate the Mu family.

What she didn’t expect was that the Mu family wouldn’t play by common sense at all.

What did these people mean? From their words, it almost sounded like they were worried her young master would harm this child!

She gave Mu Xing a dark look and said coldly:
“Young Master is of such noble birth, favored by His Majesty and the Noble Consort. If Young Master Mu could ward off disaster for him, that would be a blessing for Young Master Mu himself.”

The words had scarcely left her lips before she met several pairs of murderous eyes.

The stewardess’s heart skipped, and she involuntarily took two steps back:
“You—”

She never finished. A broom came down across her face with a whack.

“Ah!”

Old Madam Mu wasn’t done venting her rage. Though older than the stewardess, years of farm work had kept her sturdy, and the big yard broom in her hands whirled with ferocity.

That stewardess, pampered and accustomed to deference as the old madam’s confidante, was utterly no match.

She’d only brought two little maids to keep the matter discreet, and they were waiting outside. There was no one to help her now.

—She was beaten flat to the ground, hair in disarray, hairpins and ornaments scattered everywhere.

Panting, one hand on her hip, Old Madam Mu began scolding:
“Filthy old hag! Your young master’s a treasure, but my Xiaobao’s just a weed? Pah!”

“You think anyone’s desperate for your household? If it weren’t for you insisting on bringing Xiaobao over, I wouldn’t have bothered to come! You take him in only to look down on him? I’d like to ask, do your masters have something wrong with their brains?”

The old stewardess was shaking with rage:
“You, you—”

“You what?” Old Madam Mu hurled the broom aside and gave her a sharp kick.

“We farmers never studied books, we don’t talk reason—but curse my grandson, and I’ll fight you to the death!”

“Grandma, calm down, have some water.” Mu Xing, seeing her panting hard, quickly offered her a cup. “It’s not worth ruining your health.”

The stewardess finally managed a breath, and seeing Mu Xing stop his grandmother, she thought he was siding with her.

Recalling the old madam’s orders, she hurriedly said:
“Young Master Mu, the old madam never said to drive you out. You’re her own grandson—she still thinks of you.”

Mu Xing found it laughable: if that old madam truly cared about him, would this stewardess dare speak to him this way?

Seeing him silent, the stewardess thought she’d struck a chord. Climbing up, straightening her clothes, she cast a contemptuous look at Old Madam Mu before forcing a smile at Mu Xing:
“Young Master Mu, the old madam hasn’t said you must leave the capital. Our Marquis’ household has fine estates outside the city. You could live there comfortably, with dozens of maids and servants to attend you—no worse than being in the main house. Ah!”

She was cut short by a ringing slap across the face.

Old Madam Mu had struck her again, snarling:
“Get out!”

Then she turned to her son and daughter-in-law:
“Pack up quick—we’re leaving today. I don’t want to stay another moment in this unlucky place!”

What kind of person isn’t even allowed into the household, only shoved into a side estate?

That was an unacknowledged bastard child, excluded from the family registry!

Who were they trying to humiliate?

Old Madam Mu hugged Mu Xing, fearing he’d be hurt:
“Xiaobao, don’t be sad. Your birth parents are blind. Your grandmother loves you. We don’t need them.”

Mu Xing blinked, hugging her back:
“Grandmother, I’m not sad. I never thought of them as my family.”

“My real parents are all right here, aren’t they?”

---

When they were leaving, people from the Marquis’ house were still outside. The old stewardess cast the Mu family a dark, poisonous look.

Zhang shi hesitated, then went to her:
“The young master of your house…”

The stewardess’s smile was cold:
“The young master is well. He’s the Marquis and Madam’s legitimate son—his future could never be compared to that of a peasant’s child from the countryside.”

Zhang shi sighed:
“I understand. Please, carry a message for me: may he have a bright future, and a life of peace and joy.”

The stewardess sneered:
“Spare me your words. As long as your family doesn’t disturb him, he’ll live smoothly and happily enough.”

Zhang shi said nothing more, turning to leave.

The stewardess’s gaze turned venomous as she watched their carriage roll away.

Hidden in her sleeve were several silver notes, originally meant by the old madam to be given to the Mu family. Now she had no intention of handing them over.

Leaving aside how that old stewardess twisted black and white once she returned, stirring trouble until the masters of the Marquis of Cheng’en’s household flew into a rage and exhausted what little good impression they’d had of Mu Xing—

The Mu family, having hired an ordinary carriage to leave the capital, soon saw scenes completely different from before.

When they’d come to the capital, they rode in the Marquis’ carriages. Ordinary folk kept well out of the way, and the Mus mostly stayed inside. What little they saw from the windows was only the prosperity of the capital.

But on the return trip, the common carriage jolted and swayed uncomfortably. The family often had to get out to stretch when they stopped to eat.

On the very first day, they saw many ragged travelers, some with bundles on their backs—whole families who looked like refugees fleeing disaster.

“Xiaobao, here.” Someone shoved a plump white steamed bun into Mu Xing’s hands. Before he could eat, he felt a pair of burning eyes fixed on him.

Not far ahead, a disheveled middle-aged man holding a child’s hand stared at the bun like a starving wolf.

Old Madam Mu was already chatting with the carter:

“I stayed in the capital a few days and only saw noise and bustle everywhere. Why is it, just outside the city, there are so many refugees?”

“You’re not from around here, are you, madam?”

The driver took a gulp of water and sighed. “There’ve been disasters in several regions this year. You can’t imagine how many families are fleeing. With nowhere to live, they just camp out under the open sky.”

Old Madam Mu looked back toward the capital. She could still glimpse the towering city gates.

She remembered how even a mere serving nurse in the Marquis’ household dripped with gold and jewels and had maids waiting on her.

She asked, “And the court doesn’t do anything?”

The driver barked a laugh as if at a joke. “Do anything? Who would? You saw the porridge sheds outside the gates, didn’t you?”

Old Madam Mu nodded.

The driver sneered. “A bowl of cloudy water with a few grains of rice—what good is that?”

He lowered his voice. “Best if you eat inside the carriage. Hungry folks in desperation will do anything.”

He’d sized them up—an old woman, children, only two sturdy adults—and feared others might get greedy.

Old Madam Mu hastily muttered Amitabha, then sighed. “Back home in the sticks, I thought life was hard. But hearing this, at least we have a few acres and the mountains for game. We’ll never starve or be homeless. Better off than them.”

Mu Xing listened quietly.

He sighed, wrapped a few buns in a clean cloth, and tossed them before the man and child.

When they looked up, all they saw was the carriage quietly waiting there.

The coach rolled on. Before long, it lurched to a halt.

“Who are you? Out of the way!” the driver barked.

Mu Dazhu lifted the curtain, and Mu Xing leaned out too.

It was the same man and child.

The middle-aged man blocked the carriage, eyes locked on the Mus.

Then he fell to his knees, kowtowing hoarsely: “Please, save my son’s life. Just a bite to eat. I beg you, take him with you!”

His forehead struck the ground and didn’t rise again. Alarmed, the driver jumped down to check, then cried out: “He’s dead!”

The Mus were stunned, hurried down, and found the man still bleeding from old wounds—he must have been forcing himself on.

The boy beside him, hair tangled, stayed silent. His eyes gleamed fierce and bright like a wolf cub’s.

“What a sin…” Old Madam Mu muttered, looking from the boy to the body on the ground.

“This is your father? Do you have any other kin?” she asked.

The boy shook his head.

“Maybe he’s dumb,” the driver muttered.

Old Madam Mu glanced at her son and daughter-in-law, and the three stepped aside to confer.

The boy suddenly looked at Mu Xing, pulled a small bundle from his clothes. Mu Xing recognized it—it was the one he’d thrown to them.

He smiled at the child. The boy said nothing, lowering his head again.

When the elders returned, Old Madam Mu bent toward him: “Would you like to come with us?”

The boy hesitated, then nodded faintly.

The driver sighed. “Madam, you’ve a kind heart. Following you at least gives him a chance.”

In times like these, such a child alone could hardly survive unless sold as a slave.

The Mus buried the father by the roadside, then set out again with the boy.

Five days later, they reached Dazhuang Village.

At home only Mu Jiawang’s wife Wang shi had stayed to keep the place. Seeing everyone return safe, she let out a long breath.

But when she saw the child at Mu Xing’s side, she couldn’t help asking: “And who is this?”

The boy now wore clean clothes, his hair neatly tied. The Mus hadn’t expected that a child they’d taken in by chance would be so delicately pretty.

And he wasn’t mute.

Likely because his family had perished and he’d been traumatized, he was wary and withdrawn. Only with Mu Xing did he show closeness—Mu Xing figured it was probably thanks to those steamed buns.

Zhang shi briefly explained the boy’s situation:

“Ah Yue has no family left. I think he’s even younger than Xiaobao—such a pitiful child. It’s not as if our family can’t feed one more mouth, so we brought him back.”

When Wang shi saw how good-looking Ah Yue was, she couldn’t help wanting to pat his head. But the boy darted back two steps, hiding behind Mu Xing with wary eyes.

Zhang shi sighed helplessly: “See? That’s how he is—he only talks to Xiaobao now.”

Wang shi didn’t mind. She was capable and had already heated water so everyone could bathe away the fatigue. By the time the family came out, a meal was waiting.

The child named Ah Yue was arranged to stay in the same room as Mu Xing.

---

That night.

Mu Xing was so tired his eyes could barely stay open, yet he couldn’t fall asleep—because the boy beside him, though unmoving, was clearly awake. His breathing gave it away.

Mu Xing asked softly, “Can’t sleep?”

The blanket shifted a little. Ah Yue clearly hadn’t expected him to still be awake.

With no reply, Mu Xing mumbled drowsily, “Are you sad? Missing home, missing your dad?”

The moment he said that, the boy’s breathing faltered, his body trembling faintly—like he was crying.

Mu Xing startled, his drowsiness gone. Propping himself up, he used the moonlight and his keen eyesight to see tear-filled eyes—bright red, biting down stubbornly, refusing to make a sound.

So stubborn.

After a thought, Mu Xing lay back down, pulling the child into his arms through the blanket, awkwardly comforting him:

“Don’t cry. Your uncle entrusted you to us with his dying breath—he must have wanted you to live well.”

He patted the quilt gently and said seriously: “Our family is really, really good. Grandma, father, mother—they all are. Truly.”

But when the boy kept trembling, Mu Xing tried to distract him, saying:

“You saw it these past few days, right? How good they are to me. But actually, I’m not even their real child.”

He briefly recounted his own background and what had happened at the Marquis of Cheng’en’s residence.

“See? I have birth parents, but what difference does it make? It’s thanks to the Mu family that I’m cherished. And we’ll take good care of you too.”

Perhaps because he used his own story to console Ah Yue, it worked a little.

The boy finally stilled and rasped hoarsely, “Marquis of Cheng’en’s household?”

Mu Xing, already growing sleepy again, patted the blanket absentmindedly, mumbling: “Mm. Marquis of Cheng’en. My parents are great nobles, but they despise me. I’m not sad, though, because I don’t care about them.”

He didn’t see how the boy’s wolf-like eyes stared wide open into the dark, filled with searing hatred—as if something in that darkness was the root of his deepest loathing.

---

The next morning, after breakfast, Mu Xing went to visit his teacher.

Naturally, Ah Yue followed as his new little shadow.

But at first sight of Xie Wang, Mu Xing was shocked—when he’d left, the old man had still been hale and vigorous. In just a few days, how had he aged so much?

“What’s so surprising?” Xie Wang chuckled carelessly. “I should’ve died the year I met you. Back then I fought an old rival and my inner organs were damaged. These past years I’ve survived only on that century-old ginseng and suppressing the injury with inner strength. That’s why I lasted this long.”

He coughed twice, then added, “By age, I’ve already lived past my due.”

Mu Xing felt pained. “Then… you can’t suppress it anymore?”

Xie Wang brushed the strings of his zither idly. “Don’t worry. Your master won’t die just yet. I can still drill you for a few more years.”

His gaze turned to Ah Yue. “And who’s this?”

Mu Xing said, “A child I picked up on the way back from the capital. His name’s Ah Yue.”

Xie Wang studied him intently, then remarked: “You have a wolf’s eyes. I see boundless hatred in them.”

Ah Yue’s eyes narrowed, dropping his head.

“Come here.”

Suddenly Ah Yue’s body was drawn forward by a gentle yet irresistible force, bringing him to the old man’s side. Two fingers pressed against his wrist.

After a long while, Xie Wang said: “Bone age, five years. Physically strong—clearly raised in comfort. Rare talent in his foundation, excellent for martial training.”

He asked, “Your hatred—does it involve Xing’er?”

Ah Yue shook his head. The Mu family were his benefactors.

“Good. Then—would you take me as your master?”

Ah Yue lifted his gaze.

Mu Xing was astonished. “Master… didn’t you say—?”

But Xie Wang ignored him, speaking only to Ah Yue: “With your talent, as long as you’re not utterly stupid, under my training you’ll one day be invincible. Isn’t that what you seek?”

Ah Yue’s eyes lit up, and he almost knelt.

“Wait.” Xie Wang stopped him. “On one condition.”

Ah Yue rasped, his voice rough from an old throat injury, “Please speak.”

Xie Wang said: “I will have only one heir to my legacy—Xing’er. His talent surpasses yours, but he was born weak and lacks ruthlessness. I fear he’ll suffer one day. If you want my martial arts, you must swear this: so long as you live, you must protect Xing’er.”

Mu Xing froze for a moment, all his helplessness turning into a dull ache:

“Master, it’s not like you don’t know what I can do. How could I be so easily taken advantage of?”

Sure, he wasn’t as “ruthless” as his master wanted, but honestly—he had never been the one to suffer losses.

And besides, Ah Yue was only five years old. Making a five-year-old his bodyguard? Mu Xing really couldn’t bring himself to do that.

But the old man and the child completely ignored him. Ah Yue had already dropped to his knees with a solid thump:

“Disciple greets Master.”

Xie Wang said in a deep voice: “Good. From today onward, you’ll come here with Xing’er every day.”

---

The morning passed quickly, and lunch was delivered by Wang shi.

Xie Wang wasn’t in good spirits, didn’t feel like eating, and went to rest.

Mu Xing turned to Ah Yue: “Don’t take my master’s words to heart. I’m telling you, you’ll see soon enough—I’m amazing.”

Ah Yue kept his head down, eating in silence.

Just then, a leaf drifted down from above and landed on the stone table where they were eating.

Mu Xing said, “Look!”

Ah Yue watched as his pale fingers picked up the leaf and flicked it forward lightly—

That soft leaf instantly became a deadly weapon, whistling through the air before embedding itself deep into a tree trunk ahead.

Ah Yue’s eyes lit up.

Mu Xing said with a bit of pride: “Told you I was amazing. And I don’t even run around in the martial world—other than my master, I’ve never met another martial artist. So he’s just worrying too much.”

Ah Yue asked slowly: “In the future, will I… be this strong too?”

Mu Xing thought about it, then said: “Probably? Master has really high standards. If he says you’ve got good bones, then you must have talent. And this isn’t even that hard.”

Ah Yue nodded earnestly.

It was a good thing only Mu Xing and Ah Yue were around—if any martial artists had heard that last line, they’d probably cry themselves to death.

---

The Mu family was overjoyed to hear that Ah Yue had been accepted as a disciple by Mister Xie. Zhang shi personally prepared a big feast to celebrate and even went to town to carefully choose gifts as tuition offerings, treating Ah Yue as one of their own children.

But before this, Mu Xing had always been Xie Wang’s only disciple. With his master indulging him, he’d always thought himself quite diligent.

That was, until Ah Yue arrived.

Mu Xing was stunned by the boy’s dedication.

Other than eating and sleeping, it was nothing but training, training, training.

He secretly asked Xie Wang if this was bad for him, but Xie Wang only said that with Ah Yue’s constitution, plus the medicinal baths he prepared, the boy could handle it.

Mu Xing thought about it and figured maybe he should also work harder—only to be stopped immediately by Xie Wang.

“He trains with hatred in his heart, with a purpose. Someone like him can become a peerless expert, but he’ll never be a disciple of my Carefree Sect. You don’t need to imitate him.”

Where Xie Wang was harsh with Ah Yue, he was gentle with Mu Xing:

“Xing’er, just follow your own pace and interests. No need to exhaust yourself.”

Mu Xing: …

So that’s what double standards look like, huh, Master.

Even with his master’s reassurance, Mu Xing still felt that Ah Yue’s way wasn’t healthy.

Since the boy listened to him, Mu Xing would drag him to the mountains whenever he had the chance.

It wasn’t really for himself—it was to make Ah Yue relax a little.

The mountains were Mu Xing’s domain. Animals seemed to like him naturally, and whenever he went, a few creatures would always show up around him.

He’d catch them and shove them into Ah Yue’s hands.

“Hug them! Their fur’s so soft, so cute, right?” Mu Xing grinned.

Ah Yue held the squirrel stiffly, staring at it with a blank face.

Mu Xing sighed. “Ah Yue, you’re always unhappy.”

He reached out and ruffled Ah Yue’s neatly combed hair until it was messy, thinking the texture wasn’t bad—like petting a rabbit. Ahem.

He composed himself, speaking earnestly:

“I know you’ve got things hidden inside, and I won’t pry into your secrets. But I do know this—your loved ones, as long as they truly loved you, would only want you to be well. They’d want you to live happily, not carry hatred and brood until your life is nothing but revenge.”

Ah Yue quietly looked at him.

Mu Xing stood, brimming with energy as he ladled out some “chicken soup for the soul”:

“Of course! If you’ve got enemies, then of course you should take revenge! Otherwise, you’ll never feel at peace. Right? But at the same time, while holding onto that hatred, you should also notice the good things in life.”

He bent down, scooped up the squirrel Ah Yue had just tossed away, and stuffed it back into his arms:

“Like this squirrel—look how nice it feels to pet, isn’t it?”

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