North of Kuhai County, Chensha River.

  This river is the only one in Kuhai County that doesn't freeze during winter. Even in the harshest of winters, the murky waters still spsh against the rocks, sending up rge sprays.

  Fishermen, dressed warmly and armed with their tools, gather in groups of three or five. They have already rowed their boats to the calmer river mouths to secure advantageous spots and begin their day's work.

  On a stone ptform on the western side of the river, near the dense forest, stood an elderly man in brown cloth and a white-haired woman, both facing the water. The old man's face was calm, but the river flowing in his eyes spoke of the hardships he had endured.

  "Thirty years since you left, your life or death unknown, Meng Po's position in Wangchuan was left vacant, and the Ten Kings of Hell were furious, mobilizing many forces in the Martial World to search for you."

  "Many died within."

  Madam Lü's voice was indifferent, without a hint of guilt:

  "We all have blood on our hands."

  "There are no innocents in Wangchuan. Those who perished because of me have paid for the sins of my youth."

  She paused, then asked the old man:

  "And you?"

  "Why have you come to find me?"

  The old man exhaled:

  "I risked my life to keep your secret for thirty years, allowing you thirty years of freedom... Now, I want to take ten years from you."

  Madam Lü stared at the rushing river for a long time before speaking:

  "I've been out of the Martial World for thirty years, unable to wield a weapon or kill."

  The old man in brown smiled:

  "Then I haven't found the wrong person."

  Madam Lü gnced at him curiously, pondering what this familiar face from thirty years ago, this Feng Banner's living Yama who had killed over a thousand people since entering the trade at seventeen, wanted to do.

  "If you're not here to kill, then why?"

  The old man in brown slowly took out an old rattle drum from his sleeve, gently turning it. The small balls on it struck the drum, producing a muffled sound.

  But the sound was quickly swallowed by the river's waves, not traveling far in the wind.

  "Two years ago, I found a seven-year-old girl in the Chen Kingdom. She was unconscious in a pile of grass outside a wall, with two feathered arrows piercing her chest, bleeding all over."

  "I, Ma Huan, have killed all my life without blinking, but at that moment, I felt compassion."

  "Later, I pulled out the arrows, used my inner strength to stop her bleeding, and cleansed her wounds with strong liquor. She was getting better, but then caught a severe pgue, burning with fever. I searched everywhere for a cure, even prepared a coffin for her, but she survived on her own..."

  "When she awoke, she called me grandpa. From then on, I treated her as my own granddaughter."

  After hearing this disjointed story, Madam Lü's previous indifference faded slightly. She turned her head to scrutinize the old man and said:

  "Once you have attachments, your killing intent fades."

  "Do you want to leave Wangchuan too? Aren't you afraid of being discovered?"

  Ma Huan sighed.

  "The waters of Wangchuan are for ghosts to drink, not humans."

  "Once in Wangchuan, there's no leaving."

  "I've killed for Wangchuan all my life, neither human nor ghost now, riddled with injuries and illness. I just want to steal some years, raise the little girl, see her settled, and be content."

  Madam Lü hesitated for a moment and asked:

  "How do you want me to help you?"

  Ma Huan put away the rattle drum and turned to her:

  "I want you to re-enter the Martial World as Meng Po and pretend to kill me... In my youth, I learned a unique skill called 'Whale Dive' from the Beihai Daoist by chance. This skill can make my body appear dead for several days, but my consciousness remains. Help me escape, and our thirty years of grievances and friendship will be settled. How about it?"

  Madam Lü shook her head.

  "Thirty years ago, I promised him not to get involved in the Martial World's affairs."

  "Ma Huan, you're too te."

  Ma Huan frowned slightly.

  "That young man?"

  Madam Lü was taken aback, her mature face showing an unexpected surprise. After a moment, she murmured:

  "A young man... It's been thirty years already, time flies."

  Ma Huan stared at Madam Lü, his thirty-year curiosity bubbling up like a spring. He asked:

  "I really want to know, what did that young man say thirty years ago that made the fearsome Meng Po y down her bde and willingly leave the Martial World?"

  Recalling the past, Madam Lü's lips curled into a gentle smile like a spring breeze, but she quickly returned to normal. As she turned, a gust of wind passed, and she was several meters away.

  Ma Huan called after her retreating figure:

  "Su Yixian, only you can help me."

  Madam Lü paused but did not turn back.

  "After working in Wangchuan for so many years, is there no one you trust?"

  Ma Huan, hunched over, his white beard fluttering in the wind, replied:

  "Isn't it sad?"

  "That's Wangchuan for you. Everyone's hands are stained with countless lives, dying for wealth, perishing for fame. What trust is there to speak of?"

  "I kept your secret for thirty years, letting you live a normal life, but what about me?"

  "I only want ten years, to watch my granddaughter grow up, that's enough."

  "If you help me, it's just a change of pce to hide. Wangchuan has new big deals now, they won't pay much attention to you."

  Madam Lü remained silent for a long time, neither agreeing nor refusing, and left. Ma Huan watched her disappearing figure on the riverbank, then lowered his head and took out the rattle drum, gently turning it. The soft sound lingered in his ears, bringing a touch of warmth to his indifferent eyes.

  Da-da—

  Da-da—

  ...

  Evening.

  Wen Chaoshen dragged a pile of firewood back to the abandoned temple. Snowfkes fell from the sky as he arrived, unloading the wood and speaking to A Shui, who was leaning against the base of a statue:

  "Weren't you going to find Chun Qiong? How did you come back so quickly?"

  A Shui didn't respond to Wen Chaoshen. He brought some cold buns over to her, but his gaze froze slightly.

  He saw that A Shui's chest was stained with a rge patch of blood. Her head hung low, hair covering her face, as if she had fainted.

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