Chapter 155: Horse Lord's Guts!

Chapter 155: The Nature of Ma Master!

Zhao Qingxia sat beneath the tree, laughing and cursing at the air before him: "Let me stay awake—why don't you rest first? What kind of logic is this?"

"Ma Master, I haven't rested; I merely sought a plan in my dreams."

Though the voice beside his ear was faint, that familiar stubbornness remained unchanged.

Zhao Qingxia raised his hand to wipe away the blood about to stream into his eyes, only to find his vision still a crimson haze, so he ceased bothering with it.

"When did you evolve this dream trick? Rare enough for you."

"You said it yourself—I'm a divine artifact. What can't I do?"

"Fine," Zhao Qingxia's eyes were hollow, yet his smile remained radiant. "What kind of scheme did you seek? Let me hear it."

"The beauty trap."

"You old lecher."

"Don't interrupt," the voice from the helmet grew weaker. "Kid, if you make it back alive, remember to tell my Aqin—I, Old Ma, have loved only her in this life."

"Your twilight romance—I have no interest."

"Let me finish, or you'll regret it."

Ma Wangye spoke slowly: "Aqin once said she wouldn't be with me. Otherwise, if we had a child, it would be a lathe head with a tattooed shell—a laughingstock. I didn't understand before; I thought she looked down on me."

"But now I do. I misunderstood her. She even considered having a child with me—that's proof of her love. Tell Aqin that any child of ours, no matter how they turn out, I'll cherish them."

"Also, don't let my past scandals slip out. When a man is down on his luck, he makes mistakes. I've turned back now—I won't anymore."

Zhao Qingxia's features twisted, blood scabs flaking from his face. The raging emotion trapped in his chest made his body tremble uncontrollably.

"Ma Wangye, I'll fuck your father—you old bootlicker, spewing such disgusting words!"

"This is love."

"I love your Ma's face."

Zhao Qingxia clutched the ink-armor plates on his body desperately, yet could not stop the ink armor slowly slipping from his fingers.

A wrecked exoskeleton armor, so desolate it could be called tragic, floated before the youth.

"Kid, you used to say Ma Master lacked blood. Today, I'll show you how I used to fight!"

As the words fell, the broken armor lunged forward, leaves swirling in the gust, scattering wildly.

"Broken copper and iron, struggling in death!"

With a sneer, Er Tiao's mechanical heart buzzed painfully, and that ferocious, terrifying scar suddenly spread with a green hue, like a birthmark branded on his face—he had entered overdrive!

The man grabbed his blade, its edge aimed at the incoming ink armor, and cleaved downward!

"Die!"

The pale blade light exploded like a thunderclap in the dark forest, but only shattered the flying leaves.

"Little turtle, Grandpa will teach you. Next time you fight someone, don't shout—kill them first, then speak your mind!"

A cold voice rang behind Er Tiao. The broken armor, when had it floated behind him? Its plates opened wide and "swallowed" him whole.

Clang!

Due to the ink armor's missing arms, Er Tiao's hands remained free. He reversed his blade and hacked at his own back, carving a shocking gash into the armor.

Not only that, Er Tiao delivered another ferocious slash, this time toward his own brow.

Alas, before the blade fell, those red eyes in the helmet had already blazed blindingly!

"Old Ma!!"

Boom!

A raging heat wave slammed Zhao Qingxia's body hard against the tree trunk, his skin carbonizing and cracking under the high temperature. The scorching air rushing into his lungs seemed to ignite every drop of his blood.

Though the pain enough to make one faint relentlessly assaulted his will, Zhao Qingxia forced himself to widen his eyes, etching this scene deep into his heart.

"To have a sentient ink armor willingly die for you, your qualifications in the Ink Family sequence aren't low."

In the darkness untouched by firelight, a voice devoid of emotion spoke.

Gong Qinghong stepped through the ash-covered ground, halting before the charred, sword-standing figure.

At the armor's chest was a hollow cavity, where the mechanical heart should have been implanted—now empty.

"You did this on purpose."

The flickering righteous eye shifted inch by inch, fixing on Gong Qinghong.

In his final moments, Er Tiao finally grasped the opponent's plan.

From the start, he and Ya Ji had been pawns in Gong Qinghong's hands, their sole purpose to corner Zhao Qingxia.

"You want to swallow San Tiao's Honghua alone?"

"I'm not after money—I'm after my ambitions."

At the sneer and mockery in the righteous eye, Gong Qinghong shook his head helplessly. "So you lot will never understand what it means to have grand aspirations, to set the world ablaze."

"When I replace this sun and moon with a new sky, your name will also find its place in history, Er Tiao Gaozhi."

Gong Qinghong pointed at Er Tiao's brow. With a crisp sound, the ferocious head rolled to the ground.

"A sly rabbit dies, and the dog is cooked. When the dog dies, you come out."

Zhao Qingxia spat at Gong Qinghong. "You people of this sequence still enjoy such disgusting tricks."

Gong Qinghong replied calmly: "Ink Family folk, watching their own spirit self-destruct—doesn't that taste bitter?"

Zhao Qingxia's features contorted. "Enough talk—give me a clean death."

"Your words aren't any better," Gong Qinghong's eyes darkened, a cold smile playing on his lips. "Tonight's play has just begun. As the protagonist, you can't exit so soon."

Zhao Qingxia snorted coldly, his lips parting to speak when a breeze swept past his ear. He looked up, startled.

Cao Cang, with sword-like brows and star-like eyes, exuding an icy aura, walked past him slowly.

"So, what role does this Si Tiao play in this act?"

"Greetings, Jiu Tiao Master."

Gong Qinghong's face remained calm as he bowed. "I'm just a nameless underling, unworthy of mention. But you're different—you're a key player."

Cao Cang smiled faintly. "Oh? Then what's my identity?"

"A hero who values love and righteousness."

"What's the ending?"

"Tricked by deceit, dies on the spot."

Cao Cang's expression was disdainful. "A clichéd, stale plot."

Gong Qinghong said nothing, crossing a step sideways, clasping his hands in his sleeves, adopting the air of a spectator.

A tall, statuesque man emerged from where he had stood, gripping a wolf-fang club that sent shivers down the spine, his very presence radiating an aura of dread.

"Jiu Wan Wei Meng?! Gong Qinghong, do you truly dare to betray us?!"

Zhao Qingxia beheld the sudden shift in the situation, his fingers unconsciously tightening around a diminutive blade hidden in his palm, a bitter smile curving his lips.

"Old Ma, who would have thought we two have become such a tempting morsel, with everyone eager to take a bite."