Chapter Twenty-Eight

At the summit of the Nine Ridges, the highest point in the Man Kingdom, the peaks are perpetually crowned in white. These precipitous cliffs stand tall, and beyond a certain altitude, there is no place to set foot; reaching the summit requires martial arts skills of unparalleled excellence.

Deng Yangfeng chose to bury his soulmate at the peak of the Nine Ridges. It is said that this is the path to the Heavenly Court, the inevitable route for immortals descending to the mortal realm, and the place where mortals are judged against the divine. Deng Yangfeng chose this spot because of a joke his friend once made: "Looking across the world of heroes, none is worthy of being buried here save for you." What was once a jest had, unexpectedly, become a final, solemn truth.

The wind at the summit was bone-chilling, cutting like blades against the skin, causing searing pain. With the air thin and snow falling incessantly, a single misstep would cast one into the abyss below, where no martial prowess, however refined, could save a soul. Yet, Deng Yangfeng had remained there for a full day and night. Leaning on a staff, his beard and hair frozen stiff by the ice and snow, he stood beside Lin He, who was also covered in layers of snow, his hair turned prematurely white.

Only after carving the tombstone, setting it in place, and laying Tao Zhiming to rest did Deng Yangfeng finally yield to the persistent entreaties of Wei Xiaoyu.

The four stood before the grave, gazing at the name carved upon the stone. Deng Yangfeng began to cough violently. Wei Xiaoyu rushed forward to support him, but he waved her away. After the coughing subsided, he looked back at the tombstone. In just one day, he seemed to have aged decades; his once sturdy frame appeared stooped, and his solemn face was etched with the vicissitudes of time. He stared at his friend's grave, his eyes deep and reflective, and drew a long, ragged breath.

"You always believed your views were right, and I always yielded to you, for you were the only person in this world who truly understood me. But now that you are gone, I should have had a proper debate with you. Yet, I feel that with your passing, you have won every argument."

Deng Yangfeng gazed at the tombstone, his weary eyes shimmering with a hint of moisture. He exhaled a cloud of white mist. "Let it be... let it be. Whether you won or lost, you are gone, and what meaning is there left in it now?"

Lin He stared at his teacher’s grave. For days, he had been consumed by a desire for vengeance, but the thought of his teacher would always replace that hatred with deep, agonizing regret. If only he had controlled his emotions back then, his teacher would not have met this fate. If only... These days, he was tortured by these two conflicting thoughts, like two starving beasts tearing at his will.

Mu Xiangming watched Lin He. At an age that should have been filled with vitality, he now appeared utterly haggard. The light in his eyes seemed to have flickered out, replaced by a cold, unyielding resolve. In this moment, he knew more clearly than ever what he had to do. It was a tragic story, but also a great one.

The four stood in silence before the grave for a long time.

Deng Yangfeng spoke again to the stone: "The Man Kingdom is now plagued by internal strife. The Second Prince Zhong is colluding with the world's foremost sect to usurp the throne, yet not a single hero in the martial world has stepped forward." His tone had shifted, becoming grave and measured, causing both Wei Xiaoyu and Mu Xiangming to startle.

Deng Yangfeng turned his gaze to Lin He. "Zhiming’s final wish was for me to take you as my disciple, but I offer you two choices." Lin He stared fixedly at the grave, offering no response. Deng Yangfeng continued: "First, do not become my student. You may go and pursue your vengeance, but whether you succeed or fail, I shall have no connection to you, nor shall I offer any assistance."

Deng Yangfeng paused, his voice turning sterner as he presented the second choice: "Second! Become my student. Put aside your hatred for now. I will teach you my life’s work, but you must prioritize the greater good and the welfare of the people! You must not seek private revenge at the expense of everything else, nor shall you allow your emotions to dictate your actions. You must always maintain control!"

Lin He did not answer, his eyes still locked on the tombstone. These two choices felt like two different lives. He had never witnessed the true miseries of the world; for him, the most important thing was avenging his parents. Since hearing of their deaths, he had thought of nothing else. How Mu Xiangming hoped he would choose the first path—her complex expression betrayed it all. She wanted to stay with him, to avenge their family, even if they could never be more than they were. But she knew, as no one else did, what his choice would be the moment Deng Yangfeng spoke.

Lin He’s eyes flickered. He had always known what he had to do. If he could save the people from fire and water, and fulfill the wishes of his mother and teacher, what did the timing of his revenge matter? Lin He turned and knelt before Deng Yangfeng. This act shocked Wei Xiaoyu beyond measure; she had assumed anyone would choose the first path. To prioritize the grand view over personal grievance—how was this any different from "sacrificing oneself for the people"?

As Lin He knelt, the snow at the summit suddenly ceased, and a sliver of sunlight pierced the clouds. He looked down at the snow, his throat moving as he swallowed.

"What merit do I possess to bear such a burden from you and my teacher? But my mother often admonished me to hold the nation and the people in my heart..." Lin He choked back a sob. "The lines from her letter—to achieve something for the world, to act personally for the people, to strive for the nation—were her constant refrain. Even if I am flawed, I cannot forget the teachings of my mother and teacher. If you wish for me to prioritize the greater good, I shall accept the mantle. I will obey you, Master, but I cannot forget the blood of my parents! I will fulfill the wishes of my mother and teacher. Even if it brings suffering, even if it costs my life, even if I cannot achieve it in a lifetime... I am willing!"

With that, Lin He straightened his back and bowed his head to acknowledge his master. Mu Xiangming’s tears flowed, but she quickly suppressed them. She should be happy. If only her aunt hadn’t sent her away to her mother’s sister; even being sold into a brothel might have been better than this. If only her aunt hadn’t spoken so much, perhaps she wouldn’t love him so deeply. But alas, she chose to...

A trace of satisfaction crossed Deng Yangfeng’s face. Lin He was indeed far more capable than his mother. *Zhiming, oh Zhiming,* he thought to himself, *even in death, you win another round against me! How am I to face people now?* Deng Yangfeng mocked himself, yet his heart felt a peace it had never known. He would cherish the student that Tao Zhiming had traded his life for.

Deng Yangfeng helped Lin He to his feet. "From this day forward, you are my fourth disciple. I shall teach you all I know—martial arts, reputation, and status—but from now on, you must hold the greater good above all else."

"Thank you, Master!"

He had chosen a different life. He would inherit the work his mother left behind, fulfill his teacher’s final wishes, reclaim the "Ten Thousand Dust Palm," and avenge his parents. Only by becoming Deng Yangfeng’s disciple could he accomplish these things.

Deng Yangfeng looked at his friend’s tombstone and sighed internally: *Zhiming, your vision was right. But I fear this child is too much like his mother; perhaps you understood that better than I did. I only hope that in teaching him, I can help him understand this as well, and prevent him from following in her footsteps.*

The four stood at the summit, offering their final farewells to Tao Zhiming. Though he was a man of narrow origins, countless heroes of the martial world had called him friend. He had lived an upright life, worrying for his country and his people, bearing witness to the darkness of society and the suffering of the peasants. As he had once written:

*The world is in turmoil, when will the suffering end?*
*I would trade this life to bring peace to the people.*

After the four departed, the vast, snowy expanse at that towering height held one more mound of snow. The man lying within was taller than the mountains and whiter than the snow.