Of the five major clans those years ago, there was only one person left. Even if Zhang Chengling was dumber than he was now, he could understand who the person the Scorpion’s words were hinting at. In that instant, his heart stopped beating, and he roared, “You’re speaking nonsense! That’s impossible!”

Zhou Zishu raised his head and said calmly, “Little tyke, a strong will is indispensable if one wants to become someone great. You do not have to pull the wool over your own eyes about a matter that you have already seen the truth of--of course, if you think he’s spouting bullshit, you can also let it pass out of your other ear.”

As he spoke, his figure flashed briefly, although he did not seem to have moved, and appeared by Cao Weining’s side. Smoothly plucking Cao Weining’s sword from him, he stretched out his arm and threw it upwards, and said, “Catch. Don’t you want to leave with Gu Xiang and the rest? If you can kill that pale-faced female impersonator, I’ll let you leave.”

Flitting over, Zhang Chengling caught Cao Weining’s sword. With a clang, the long sword was drawn out of the sheath, and with a loud shout, he hesitated no longer, swinging it at the beautiful youth.

He was practically treating Cao Weining’s sword like the Golden-Thread Ringed Sabre; in that instant, his strokes were astonishingly of boundless, volatile power, an intense, surging storm that bore down hard--no one had taught him this.

Shocked, that beautiful youth panicked, his attacks thrown into disarray, and stepped backwards reflexively--he, in fact, had a limp to one foot that was not usually evident, but became obvious when he beat a hasty retreat at this time. A cryptic smile suddenly surfaced on the Scorpion’s face. Naturally, Zhang Chengling had noticed his limp too; gaze sharpening abruptly, a vicious hatred twisting his features, he brought the sword straight down.

He sliced that youth from face to chest.

The splattered blood drenched his face.

Zhang Chengling turned his head, looked right at the Scorpion, and said, “You are saying that it’s Uncle Zhao.”

The killers from the Poisonous Scorpions had only started to appear when Zhao Jing had brought him to Dongting--why had Zhao Jing let Zhou Zishu, of unknown background, take him away so easily back then?

Because the best moment to deliver the killing blow was when Zhang Chengling was not by his side.

All the witnesses of yesteryear had died; today, only Zhao Jing, who had gotten injured for the sake of the orthodox, was left. At present, he was highly respected and regarded, reputed like no other--

This was none other than the truth.

The author has something to say:

Is this the truth?

Evidently not…*crawls away* = =

Chapter 67: The Parting of Ways