Chapter 67: The Secret Manual of “Yi Yang Zhi”!
Duan Yanqing stood there, gaze fixed, as if blind to Duan Zhengchun and Duan Yu’s departure. Only after they had gone far did he mutter in a muffled voice:
“Sir… what do you know?”
His voice, usually dull and strange, now carried a rare trace of excitement.
Fang Han spoke clearly:
“Prince Yanqing, I wish to make a trade with you.”
Duan Yanqing’s eyes flickered with surprise, unexpected.
“Please speak plainly.”
Fang Han’s eyes narrowed slightly:
“I will tell you the true identity of that woman, and the identity of your own flesh-and-blood son. In exchange… the secret manual of Yi Yang Zhi!”
Sometimes, one need not stumble upon chance encounters. With knowledge of the storyline, one could use it to obtain peerless martial arts.
Of course, in his first life simulation, Fang Han would never have dared attempt such a thing.
Without martial strength, he would have been mere fish on the chopping board.
But now, with Beiming Shengong, Lingbo Weibu, and a stock of poisons prepared by Miss Cheng, he had a firm reliance. Thus he could leverage the storyline to bargain for benefit.
Duan Yanqing had originally been filled only with desire to know the identity and whereabouts of the “Guanyin Bodhisattva.” Never had he imagined suddenly hearing that he actually had a son of his own!
His heart shook violently, his mind went into chaos:
I, Duan Yanqing, neither man nor ghost—yet I truly have blood kin!?
Suddenly, an inspiration struck:
Could it be… her!? That she bore me a child…?
Yes! Yes!
The “Guanyin Bodhisattva” had been a mistaken identity.
Upon later reflection, she must have been just a mortal woman.
That she bore him a son was not impossible at all.
Thinking thus, Duan Yanqing felt a surge of wild joy. All the past hatred seemed to dissolve into ash. The iron staff in his hand trembled lightly, and his rigid, deathlike face twitched faintly.
Only after a long time did he calm his emotions, regaining rationality:
“How can I know whether you deceive me or not?”
Fang Han chuckled lightly, not directly answering.
“Would Prince Yanqing be willing to make this trade?”
Duan Yanqing stared at him for a long moment, unable to refuse, and slowly nodded:
“I agree!”
Yi Yang Zhi was the Duan clan’s most secret martial art, never to be passed on.
But at this moment, how could Duan Yanqing care about such old rules?
He already bore resentment toward the Duan clan for casting him aside.
The rule of “not passing on” naturally held no weight for him.
At ordinary times, it would have been extremely difficult to obtain Yi Yang Zhi from him.
But now—having just learned he had a son—how could he possibly refuse?
With that, he drew from his bosom an old manual and, with deft force, sent it over.
Fang Han’s eyes narrowed, somewhat surprised. He had expected Duan Yanqing to dictate or rewrite it, never that he carried the manual with him at all times.
Could it be a trap…?
Yet with his poison immunity and strong inner force, Fang Han did not fear any tricks.
He reached out, caught it, and opened it.
Inside was indeed dense writing, along with diagrams of force application, inner energy routes, and meridian charts.
Studying briefly, he felt at once the extraordinary nature of the art. It was no fake.
After all, Duan Yanqing had been of royal birth, once crown prince. A man like him would hardly stoop to small deceits.
In the original tale, when competing with the Yellow-Browed Monk in both Go and inner strength, he had been one move from victory—yet Duan Yu disrupted the game, forcing a mistake and losing everything. In Go, interruption like that was intolerable. He could have argued, but instead departed in silence, not even bothering to explain. This showed he had his own sense of dignity.
Now, too, he acted the same.
This manual of Yi Yang Zhi he carried constantly, as a reminder of the hatred that had crippled him. A whip to lash himself, never to forget.
But now, upon hearing such earthshaking joy, his lifelong hatred melted away like snow, and he no longer cared about keeping it secret.
Even so, Fang Han remained cautious. He studied carefully before he was mostly reassured. Still, he needed verification—from Duan Zhengchun’s side.
This was another key reason he had saved Duan Yu: one act, two gains.
Duan Yanqing waited silently for Fang Han’s conclusion. Seeing him look up, he asked:
“Well?”
Fang Han smiled slightly:
“Would Prince Yanqing recite it once as well?”
After pondering a moment, Duan Yanqing did so, slowly reciting the essentials of Yi Yang Zhi.
Fang Han compared line by line. Everything matched.
He then asked several probing questions; all were consistent.
Finally, he nodded:
“Good! Since Prince Yanqing has shown such sincerity, I naturally shall tell you the truth as well.”
Duan Yanqing’s heart tensed. This was tantamount to saying—if he had not shown sincerity, Fang Han would not have spoken truth!
He quickly gathered himself, listening with full attention.
Fang Han spoke very briefly—only seven words:
“The heir of the Southern Prince of Dali.”
Duan Yanqing was struck dumb for a moment. Subconsciously, he muttered:
“What?”
The Southern Prince of Dali—that was Duan Zhengchun.
The heir of the Southern Prince—that was none other than Duan Yu.
So he was saying…
At once, realization hit. His eyes widened, pupils trembling.
Fang Han said slowly:
“What I should say, I have said. You may judge for yourself.”
Hearing this, Duan Yanqing nearly collapsed.
His first thought: Impossible! Absolutely impossible!
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