Jiaohua

Chapter 1679 Feng Qingang is dead

The old man asked, "What kind of celestial phenomenon is it?"

Feng Qingang looked at him coldly: "How would I remember that? Han Ruiqian has too many treasures. I glanced at the design drawings for the Fuguang Qinghe Book, and the order of the stars in one of them was almost identical to the star charts recorded by the Master of Star Gazing on the eve of Han Ruiqian's accident, so I decided to continue making it. The same thing happened not only with the Fuguang Qinghe Book, but also with other treasures. As long as there were one or two coincidences, or things that seemed mysterious or worthwhile to me, I didn't stop them and allowed them to continue making it."

The old man asked, "Do you remember which year and month it was?"

The span of time was too great, hundreds of years in an instant. The old man suddenly asked this question, and Feng Qingang's memory went blank for a moment.

After a long pause, Feng Qingang said, "May 9th, the eleventh year of Guangchang."

The old man raised his long eyebrows slightly and let out a barely perceptible sigh of relief.

He wouldn't record all the celestial phenomena over hundreds of years, but he wouldn't forget the ones worth remembering.

On the night of May 9th of the eleventh year of Guangchang, there was indeed a celestial reversal, but it was completely unrelated to the celestial phenomena of June 11th of the twenty-fourth year of Xuanyan.

Out of the corner of his eye, the old man looked at Xia Zhaoyi.

His apprentice was looking at him, his eyes gleaming behind the mask, a sly smile on his face.

The old man knew she was quick-witted and clever, and that she could immediately read his mind.

The old man said calmly, "What?"

Xia Zhaoyi said, "So what if my astrological sign is the same as this guy's? I don't care. Master, don't worry that I'm an evil spirit."

The word "evil spirit" displeased the old man, and his face darkened: "Don't talk nonsense."

Xia Zhaoyi smiled and said, "I'm not greedy, I've had enough. From now on, whoever is a god, I am a god. Contentment and carefree living are what make a god."

The old man nodded in agreement.

Turning his gaze back to Feng Qingang, the old man said, "You wicked child, what are you waiting for?"

Feng Qingang gripped the blade and pointed the hilt at Xia Zhaoyi: "Ali, you do it."

Xia Zhaoyi remained unmoved: "Do it yourself."

"What, are you afraid I'll ambush you if you get too close?"

"Do it yourself," Xia Zhaoyi said again.

Feng Qingang narrowed his eyes and said with a cold laugh, "Ali, I will not die, I will live again. Heaven and earth are born together with me, and all things are one with me. You kill me today, but I will open my eyes again in the future. Sixty years later, seventy years later, when your relatives and friends grow old and die one by one, and you are all alone, only I will still be alive, and I will become your closest person."

The old man said sternly, “You are nothing but a piece of trash. You are utterly useless. A fortune was given to you for free, yet you still end up in this wretched state. You have been repeatedly robbed and betrayed by your subordinates, and no one respects you. You have had a stroke of luck and survived for a hundred years, yet you live like a walking corpse, a skeleton, covered in filth and yin energy, a vile pustule. You, who are worse than animals, still dare to dream of living alongside heaven and earth, how shameless!”

"Enough!" Feng Qingang glared at the old man, each word like a knife piercing him. "Li Ling! Even if I die today, I will outlive you!"

"It doesn't matter."

"You short-lived bastard!! You're a short-lived bastard!!" Feng Qingang shouted, his voice hoarse and strained.

The old man looked at him pitifully.

Feng Qingang stopped shouting on his own. This intense emotional turmoil made his breathing very rapid, and the wound on his palm was bleeding profusely.

His health is poor; without hemostatic ointment or powder, his blood will continue to flow for a long time.

After a pause, Feng Qingang looked back at Xia Zhaoyi: "Wei Xingchuan, he has lived longer than both Tang Xiangsi and me. The Qiao family was once a major clan under his control, but there were too many scattered grudges that accumulated over time. The Qiao family betrayed him several times, one of which severely damaged Wei Xingchuan, destroying a century's worth of hard work and nearly wiping him out. However, because the Qiao family possessed a unique alchemy skill, Wei Xingchuan couldn't completely abandon it. Every few decades, when the Qiao family was driven to desperation and begged Wei Xingchuan for a way out, he always agreed because of that alchemy skill. As a result, the cycle repeated itself. No matter how many generations the Qiao family members changed, their original intentions remained unchanged; they were addicted to betrayal. But this time, Wei Xingchuan was determined to wipe out the Qiao family."

Xia Zhaoyi asked, "Is Wei Xingchuan's longevity related to alchemy?"

Feng Qingang shook his head: "He doesn't eat it; his subordinates do. This elixir can't make people immortal, but it can prolong life and add several decades to their lives. As for Tang Xiangsi, although he is a good-for-nothing, he has good luck. Every time he is down on his luck, a benefactor always appears to help him."

Xia Zhaoyi recalled the Meng Sixiang she had seen outside Hengxiang City, a thin, frail young man who had been starving for many days and was on the verge of death.

"Ah Li," Feng Qingang called again, his voice hoarse.

Xia Zhaoyi looked at the dagger he was still holding and said, "It is said that a dying man's words are good, so I will believe what you just said. Feng Qingang, you can go now."

Feng Qingang's eyes were dark and cold: "I never imagined that I would have such a deep connection with this cold palace. Ali, we will meet again someday, and I will definitely come to find you."

Feng Qingang looked down at the blade in his hand, then suddenly exerted force and plunged it fiercely into his own chest.

The entrance to the cold palace was already chilly, and the dagger, imbued with the cold air, pierced the burning body, causing Feng Qingang to tremble with pain, cold sweat pouring out even more profusely.

He has killed so many people that he himself has lost count.

He would savor every person who died in front of him, finding great pleasure in it.

He felt that death was a happy thing.

But when it came to him, he felt none of the joy he had imagined.

Besides the physical pain, there is also the fear of death.

Feng Qingang did not look down to see how the blood was flowing from his body. His eyes were fixed on Xia Zhaoyi's face, his gaze fierce, unwilling, resentful, and extremely infatuated.

Although she wore a mask, he could perfectly copy any portrait of her with his eyes closed.

"Ah Li..." Feng Qingang uttered the last two words before completely losing his will.

The old man looked at Feng Qingang and said calmly, "Such a way of dying is too easy for him."

Xia Zhaoyi said, "There's no way we can drag him back; the road here is difficult to travel."

The old man turned his head to look at her: "You must not have had a proper rest while traveling here."

"It was tiring, but the trip was worthwhile; at least it cleared up many of my doubts."

The old man nodded: "Let's go."

Xia Zhaoyi thought of something and said, "Master, wait for me!"

She walked quickly towards a dark passage, and soon emerged leading two dazed men, who were none other than Feng Qingang's men.

The two men's hands were tightly bound with a thick hemp rope. They had just been knocked unconscious and were suffering from splitting headaches.