Chapter 66: The Secret Manual of “Yi Yang Zhi”!
Now, if Duan Yu were to retrace his so-called fate, there was absolutely no way he could succeed again.
That had been the result of countless coincidences woven together.
Change even a little, and it would no longer be a miraculous encounter—it would become a dead end!
And on Mount Wuliang, due to Fang Han’s intervention, Duan Yu’s fate had already been altered—directly or indirectly.
He had not befriended Zhong Ling, nor later by chance fallen from a cliff to the valley of Langhuan Blessed Land to suddenly obtain divine martial manuals.
Even if he truly did reach Langhuan Blessed Land, the Beiming Shengong and Lingbo Weibu had already been taken away by Fang Han.
Thinking of this, Fang Han could not help but mutter inwardly:
Compared to him relying on luck to cheat, I can simulate entire lives. This—this is the real cheat! The cheat of cheats! I’ve activated a divine-level hack!
While Fang Han was sighing inwardly, Duan Zhengchun was left stunned by his words.
He had long been angry with his son for setting off on reckless wanderings and stirring up so much trouble.
Yet at this moment, hearing that his son seemed to have ties with such a heroic and outstanding figure, he could not help but praise inwardly:
Yu’er has not been entirely foolish. He ventured out, and in doing so befriended such a remarkable hero!
Fang Han turned his gaze on Duan Yanqing. He saw that the man leaned on a crutch, wore a green robe, his legs clearly crippled—yet he stood like a mountain supported by the iron staff. His cold eyes swept about, gloomy and venomous, enough to make one’s heart shiver.
Thinking of the man’s past, Fang Han could not help but feel a trace of genuine admiration within.
This Duan Yanqing had once been a legitimate crown prince of Dali, destined to inherit the throne. Yet due to the shifting tides of fate, he plummeted from the clouds into the mire, ending crippled and mute.
After such a fall, to neither go mad nor collapse, but instead to carve out another path, enduring immense hardship to cultivate peerless martial arts, reaching such a level with a disabled body—just this alone was something few could help but respect.
Moreover… Fang Han felt less aversion toward him than toward Ye Erniang or Yun Zhonghe.
As the head of the Four Evildoers, Duan Yanqing at least acted according to patterns.
Ye Erniang and Yun Zhonghe needed no elaboration.
As for Yue Laosan, though blunt and somewhat comical in behavior, he was in truth a merciless “Li Kui–type” figure. One wrong word, and he would casually snap your neck.
In Fang Han’s first simulation, he was especially wary of such people—because you could never know if the slightest slip of the tongue would provoke sudden murder.
By contrast, Duan Yanqing’s evildoings at least followed a logic. They were retribution against those who had once hunted him, leaving him crippled. His methods were ruthless, eradicating entire families, earning him the title of “utterly evil,” yet his targets were clear, not random.
Placed in the same shoes, Fang Han thought, I doubt I’d be much better.
If such things had happened to him, he too might well be plotting how to scatter his enemy’s ashes neatly to the winds.
Fang Han cupped his hands slightly and spoke loudly:
“Prince Yanqing, it would be better to release this youth, otherwise…”
He originally intended to say you will regret it, but mid-thought changed his mind, leaving the words unsaid.
To the other two, however, it sounded like a direct threat.
Duan Yanqing gave a cold snort!
Though he thought this man formidable, he was no ordinary person either. With Duan Yu still in his grasp, he could kill him at will. The man might block him for the moment, but not forever!
The iron staff thrust out again, aiming to kill Duan Yu. Fang Han immediately employed Lingbo Weibu, his figure flickering like light and shadow. Four short lines came smoothly from his lips:
“Outside Tianlong Temple,
Beneath the Bodhi tree,
A beggar in rags,
Guanyin with long hair.”
Duan Yanqing was normally the most resilient of men, never swayed by mere words. Yet at these sudden lines, he froze, stunned in place. Even the iron staff he had extended halted in midair.
Fang Han calmly lifted Duan Yu from the ground. Seeing the youth’s bloodstained robe and pallid face, half-conscious and bewildered, Fang Han lightly pressed a few acupoints to stop the bleeding, then handed him over to Duan Zhengchun, who had rushed forward.
Duan Zhengchun, seeing his son saved, was overjoyed. Gratitude overflowed from his heart as he quickly said:
“Many thanks, sir, for saving my son’s life. I, Duan Zhengchun, am endlessly grateful! Might I ask for your esteemed name? If ever you have need of me, I shall obey without hesitation!”
Fang Han nodded slightly. This time saving Duan Yu had not been purely out of kindness—he had his own aims. But it was not the time to speak them. After giving his name, he simply said:
“Your son’s injuries are severe. Prince of the Southern Palace, it would be best to return quickly for treatment.”
Hearing this, Duan Zhengchun was deeply moved, feeling profound gratitude. He regarded Fang Han as a truly magnanimous and chivalrous hero.
Since his son’s wounds could not wait, and words could not fully express his thanks, he bowed respectfully, then carried Duan Yu away.
But before leaving, he cast a puzzled look at Duan Yanqing. Just moments ago, the Prince Yanqing had been determined to kill. Why then, after this Mr. Fang spoke a few words, had he suddenly relented?
“Outside Tianlong Temple…”
Duan Zhengchun repeated inwardly, suspecting some hidden mystery.
He could not know that this mystery… had in fact landed squarely upon his own forehead…
Yet with Duan Yu gravely injured, he had no time to ponder further, and hurried away with qinggong.
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