Fang Chen leaned on his walking stick, stepping slowly into what used to be Blacksmith Zhao's courtyard. Hearing the noise, someone came out. When they saw Fang Chen, they looked at him with wary eyes. "This place is occupied; it's not a place for beggars. If you have nowhere to go, head to the capital god's temple."

Fang Chen asked softly, "Zhao Shi, Zhao Yu, who are they to you?"

"Do you know my grandfather? Zhao Shi is my grandfather, and Zhao Yu is my great-aunt."

"What has become of them?"

"They're all dead."

"And your parents?"

"They're dead too."

The person stared at Fang Chen for a while. At one point, she noticed his grayish-white pupils, and something clicked in her mind. She gasped. "You…. Are you the blind grandpa my grandfather mentioned?"

"What's your name?" asked Fang Chen.

"My name is Zhao Jixiang."

***

Two hours later.

Fang Chen had washed up, and Zhao Jixiang brought him some old clothes of Zhao Shi. Although tattered, they were clean.

"Blind grandpa, my grandfather said... that you personally avenged my great-grandfather's death?"

Zhao Jixiang looked at Fang Chen carefully. This old man before her was so frail and old, like a person half a foot into their grave. He didn't resemble the great hero her grandfather had described back then.

With just a wooden stick, he had killed two or three dozen people!

"I don't look the part?" Fang Chen smiled. "How old are you this year?"

Zhao Jixiang pondered for a moment and replied, "Me? I should be around seven years old…."

Fang Chen said softly, "Tell me how your grandfather and the others died, and what happened to your parents."

Zhao Jixiang's gaze dimmed slightly, and a hint of hatred flashed in her eyes. "They were forced to death by the Black Family."

"The Black family?"

Fang Chen recalled a person. That individual had been around thirty or forty back then. He was likely dead by now.

Zhao Jixiang gritted her teeth. "They said my great-grandfather worked for a big shot in the Jianghu and received a reward. They believed the treasure was hidden in our home and demanded we hand it over. When my grandfather couldn't produce the treasure, he was beaten to death."

After a while, Fang Chen became certain that the Black family mentioned by Zhao Jixiang was the same one associated with Third Master Black.

Fang Chen suddenly said, "Do you have anything to eat? I haven't had decent food for years, and my health isn't good anymore."

Zhao Jixiang's face turned slightly red, and she nervously fidgeted with the hem of her clothes. "Blind grandpa, I just finished eating…. If you're hungry, I can go to the river outside the city and catch a few fish. That's what I'm best at."

"Hmm, I need to eat well to regain some strength," said Fang Chen, a smile appearing on his face.

For a long time afterward, Zhao Jixiang would always take Fang Chen to the riverbank outside the city to catch fish. They would cook them right there, either grilling them or making soup. During their leisure time, Fang Chen would also let Zhao Jixiang hold a wooden stick and teach her some sword techniques.

Time passed unnoticed, and three years went by. In those three years, Fang Chen showed clear signs of aging, while Zhao Jixiang had grown significantly taller. Though she was only ten, she looked no different from a twelve or thirteen-year-old.

One day, Zhao Jixiang was fishing as usual, while Fang Chen waited by the shore.

Suddenly, a group of servants appeared, led by a gloomy young nobleman. He glanced at Fang Chen, a look of disdain appearing on his face, and asked his companions, "That wild girl comes here to catch fish every day?"

"Yes, young master. That old blind man is with her," a servant replied respectfully.

The young nobleman immediately turned his gaze to Fang Chen. "Old blind man, where's that girl? Call her out."

"What do you want!" a furious shout suddenly came from the river.

Zhao Jixiang emerged, holding a wriggling fish and glaring at the young nobleman.

"Oh?" The young nobleman's eyes lit up. "Looks like that girl has grown up these past few years."

Zhao Jixiang quickly swam to the shore, picked up a wooden stick, and fiercely stared at the young nobleman. "What do you want from us!"

Seeing Zhao Jixiang's defiance, the others burst into laughter.

The young nobleman chuckled. "You think you can hit me with that stick? Come on, hit me!"

He leaned his head closer.

Zhao Jixiang replied coldly, "Tell me, what do you really want?"

"What do I want? If you don't hand over the treasure that great person gave your father, I'll dig up your father's grave. However… if you're willing to be my little wife, I might reconsider."

The young nobleman grinned.

Zhao Jixiang finally recognized that the other party was from the Black family. She gritted her teeth in anger, tightly clutching the wooden stick in her hand.

"I'll give you a day to think about it. Come to my door tomorrow; I don't want to come and find you myself," the young nobleman said, sneering and turning to leave.

As he left, he kicked over the iron pot that Zhao Jixiang had prepared.

Fang Chen suddenly laughed. "Can't hold it in anymore, little girl?"

Tears streamed down Zhao Jixiang's face. "Grandpa, I wanted to beat him to death just now."

Fang Chen smiled. "Roast the fish; we'll go to the Black Family tomorrow. We might die, but I imagine you're not afraid."

A hint of worry flashed in Zhao Jixiang's eyes, but it wasn't for herself. She whispered, "Grandpa, your health…"

"After three years of care, I've aged a lot, but my strength has returned somewhat; it's about enough."

"Well…."

"Enough nonsense. Roast the fish; I'm hungry."

"Yes…."

The next day, Zhao Jixiang used scissors to cut her hair short. Looking in the basin of water, a face resembling that of a little boy stared back at her.

"Grandpa, why do I have to cut my hair short? It looks so ugly," Zhao Jixiang asked.

Fang Chen smiled. "If your hair is too long, it can be a weakness in a fight. Your opponent could grab you by your hair. Since you're still small and weak, it's better to have fewer weaknesses."

Zhao Jixiang nodded, half-understanding. "Right.…"

She then took Fang Chen's arm and led him toward the Black Family. As they passed an intersection, Fang Chen suddenly paused, a faint smile appearing on his face.

"Grandpa, what's wrong?"

Fang Chen smiled gently. "Nothing. I've had a suspicion in my heart, and now it's been confirmed."

Not far away, six figures stood still at the bustling intersection. Before long, they headed towards the nearby tea house.

Zhao Jixiang didn't understand what Fang Chen was talking about. Seeing him fall silent, she continued leading him forward.

At that moment, a passerby accidentally bumped into Fang Chen. He immediately began to curse, "Old blind man, if you can't see, don't wander around. Are you trying to con money out of people? Be careful; I might just beat you to death!"

Zhao Jixiang quickly apologized, and only then did the passerby leave in a huff.

Soon, the two arrived in front of an imposing residence.

Fang Chen suddenly asked, "Jixiang, do you believe in reincarnation?"

Zhao Jixiang was taken aback. "Reincarnation? Does such a thing exist?"

"I hope it is possible. That way… maybe Grandpa can see you again in the future," said Fang Chen, gently patting her head.

He then knocked on the door with his cane.

As soon as a fierce-looking servant opened the door and saw the two, he began cursing. "Who is it? Oh, it's you. What are you bringing this old blind man for? Tell him to get lost!"

Puff!

A wooden stick pierced through his throat. The servant stared at Fang Chen in disbelief, his mouth opening and closing as he gasped for breath.

Zhao Jixiang stared blankly at this scene. It was only at this moment that she realized her usually kind blind grandpa truly possessed a lethal skill.

The two slowly walked into the mansion, and news quickly spread.

"Master, Ancestor, it's bad, it's bad! Someone is killing people in our house!"

"What's all the fuss about? Don't scare the Ancestor."

The head of the Black Family snorted coldly, then looked at the old man sitting beside him in a rocking chair.

The old man was already very frail. Hearing the commotion, he didn't lift his eyelids but asked softly, "Who is killing?"

"It-it's a blind man. His wooden stick is terrifying; with just one move, it takes a life!"

"A blind man!?"

Standing next to the old man was a young nobleman, who became furious upon hearing this. However, before he could speak, the old man's eyes suddenly snapped open, a flicker of uncertainty flashing in his murky gaze. "A blind man? A wooden stick?"