Ouyang Feng clutched his head, muttering the words over and over again:
“Old Venom?”
“My name is Old Venom?”
Back then, Ouyang Feng had reverse-cultivated the Nine Yin Manual, causing his true qi to flow backward and his meridians to fall into chaos, gradually damaging his sanity. Yet chaotic as it was, he had actually forged something out of it, his martial arts growing increasingly bizarre, even as his mind grew more unhinged by the day.
On top of that, the sudden, violent death of Ouyang Ke had ripped away a piece of his heart. He had suppressed that searing pain deep inside, clinging to the title of "Number One Under Heaven" as his sole spiritual pillar.
During the second Mount Hua Sword Contest, Huang Rong had repeatedly baffled him with riddles about his own identity. In the end, the string that had been stretched taut for so long finally snapped. His mind completely collapsed.
The people and events inside Ouyang Feng's mind were like a jumbled jigsaw puzzle. Some pieces remained, while others were gone. The most troublesome part was that the remaining pieces were often fitted into the wrong places.
Sometimes he remembered Ouyang Ke, yet could not recall their relationship. He remembered Mount Hua, yet could not remember why he had gone there. He was even confused about his own name.
Yet, strangely enough, he could not forget his martial arts. For many of these things were no longer a matter of memory; they were etched into his very bones.
How to crouch for Toad Stance, how his true qi should flow, which hand to raise when someone launched a palm strike at him—he did not need to sit down and think through any of these things. His body moved on its own, just as a sleeping person still knew how to breathe.
So crazy as he was, when he actually engaged in combat, he remained the very same Western Venom whose name struck terror into the hearts of everyone in the martial arts world.
At this moment, Ouyang Feng paced back and forth, endlessly murmuring the three words "Old Venom." Suddenly, he raised his filthy, blackened palm and slapped his forehead with a crisp smack!
“But...”
“Is there anyone under heaven with the surname Old?”
He abruptly glared at Ke Zhen'e and the others, his eyes filled with a bizarre mixture of clarity and confusion.
“No!”
“You're tricking me!”
Ouyang Feng took it quite seriously and continued muttering to himself:
“I remember...”
“In my name...”
“there seems to be the word 'Yang'.”
His eyes suddenly lit up:
“Right!”
“There is a 'Yang'!”
Guo Jing was startled.
Huang Rong raised her eyebrows, thinking to herself: Could this Old Venom really be remembering things from the past?
Then, Ouyang Feng began pacing back and forth again.
“Yang, Yang, Yang.”
“My surname is Yang.”
“What was my name again? Yang what?”
“Yang...”
“Yang what?”
He suddenly stopped and blurted out:
“Yang Kang!”
Guo Jing's face darkened, his fists quietly clenching.
Huang Rong could not help but let out a soft chuckle.
Yet Ouyang Feng immediately shook his head and said:
“No.”
“I've heard this name before.”
“But my name...”
“seems to have three characters.”
Muttering to himself, he began tugging at his hair as he pondered.
Standing to the side as he watched, Guo Jing felt a complex mix of emotions. The man before him had murdered five of his masters; Guo Jing had not forgotten this enmity for a single day. If Ouyang Feng were lucid right now, Guo Jing would settle the score without hesitation. Yet seeing the Western Venom—once a grandmaster of a generation—now unable to even figure out who he was, Guo Jing could not help feeling a sense of sorrowful sigh.
It was not forgiveness, nor did he believe that pity could wipe the slate clean. It was simply the realization of how unpredictable the world could be. Back when traveling the martial world, who didn't guard themselves extra carefully upon encountering Ouyang Feng? Yet today, the man was still here, and his martial skills remained. He had simply lost himself.
Guo Jing looked at Ke Zhen'e and said in a low voice:
“First Master.”
“He really seems deeply insane.”
Ke Zhen'e snorted coldly:
“So what if he's insane?”
“If he's insane, will your five masters come back to life?”
Guo Jing fell silent, nodding after a moment:
“No.”
Ke Zhen'e tightened his grip on his iron staff and said:
“Then that's that.”
Guo Jing turned his gaze back to Ouyang Feng, his eyes darkening once more.
Behind Huang Rong, Da Wu and Xiao Wu's little faces were pale with fright. Their hands gripped the hem of Huang Rong's skirt tightly.
Ever since they were little, what they feared most was seeing their father, Wu Santong, go mad. Sometimes he would suddenly rush out in the middle of the night, shouting Ah Yuan's name. Sometimes he would hug a rock and talk to it. Other times, he would be completely fine one moment, and the next, he would act as though he did not recognize his two sons at all.
Da Wu and Xiao Wu hadn't understood back then; they only knew how to be afraid. Now that they were a little older, they were still afraid. Seeing Ouyang Feng's crazed state now, that familiar feeling returned. It was as though a trauma had been lodged deep in their hearts, so that whenever they saw a wild-haired madman, their calves would tremble uncontrollably.
Xiao Wu quietly shuffled behind Huang Rong, and Da Wu followed suit. In the end, the two brothers left only two pairs of eyes peeking out to steal looks.
Guo Fu was entirely different. Standing beside Huang Rong, she showed no fear at all. In fact, the more she looked, the more amused she became.
From childhood until now, Huang Rong had coddled her like a treasure in the palm of her hand, giving her whatever she wished for. Guo Jing, on the other hand, liked to enforce rules in everything; whenever he wanted to discipline her, Huang Rong would deliberately shield her. Sometimes, when Guo Jing put on a stern face to fetch the household rod, Guo Fu would throw herself into his arms and cry "Daddy," leaving Guo Jing's hand raised in midair only to drop back down powerlessly.
Pampered and spoiled for nine years, the little girl did not have the word "fear" in her vocabulary at all.
Guo Fu stepped out from beside Huang Rong, rested her hands on her hips, and, without the slightest dread of the Western Venom, declared in a crisp voice:
“Old Grandpa.”
“How about I help you think?”
Guo Jing's expression shifted, and he said:
“Fu'er.”
“Stop fooling around.”
Guo Fu did not back down in the least and continued:
“I see you have a head full of white hair and a white beard, and your name has the word 'Yang' in it.”
“I guess you must be called 'Yangchun Noodles'!”
Guo Jing was so shocked he nearly bit his tongue. Turning his head hurriedly, he shouted sternly:
“Fu'er! Do not be rude!”
Even toward a mortal enemy, having a young girl poke fun at an elder face-to-face was, in Guo Jing's eyes, a breach of decorum.
Guo Fu stuck her tongue out at Guo Jing and pulled a playful face:
“I was just guessing.”
Ouyang Feng froze:
“Yangchun Noodles...”
To everyone's surprise, Ouyang Feng's hands actually rested against his chin as he began to think seriously. Rubbing his matted white beard, he tilted his head and muttered:
“Yangchun Noodles.”
“My name is Yangchun Noodles?”
Ouyang Feng took a massive step forward, asking with an anxious look:
“Little girl, do you know me?!”
Guo Jing's body suddenly shifted, his broad shoulders forming a solid iron wall that shielded Guo Fu completely behind him. The true qi inside his body circulated subtly, ready to strike back at a moment's notice.
Huang Rong gently patted Guo Jing's back, signaling for him to ease his mind. Looking at the crazed toad scrambling in confusion before them, a mischievous smile quietly curled at the corners of Huang Rong's lips.
She felt that the madder Old Venom became, the fewer victims there would be in the world. Since his mind was already a heap of mud, why not dump a couple more ladles of slop into it?
Huang Rong took half a step forward and said with utmost seriousness:
“Don't speak nonsense, Fu'er. This senior's surname isn't Yang.”
Ouyang Feng immediately looked over at Huang Rong:
“You know me?”
Huang Rong nodded solemnly:
“I know a bit.”
The moment Guo Jing saw his wife's expression, he had a premonition that she was up to some mischief. Sure enough.
Huang Rong said slowly:
“Your surname is Ou.”
Ouyang Feng's eyes lit up:
“Right!”
“I think my surname is Ou!”
Ke Zhen'e snorted coldly from the side.
Huang Rong continued:
“And your given name is Yang.”
Ouyang Feng immediately repeated:
“Ou Yang?”
His eyes bulged wide:
“Right! Right, right, right! It's those two characters!”
Huang Rong then added:
“Oh, wait, that's not right. It seems to be missing one character.”
Ouyang Feng asked frantically:
“What character?”
Huang Rong deliberately knit her brows, appearing to recall deep in thought:
“It seems to be...”
“...Cai.”
Ouyang Feng stood frozen on the spot:
“Ouyang... Cai?”
Guo Fu burst into laughter. Behind them, Da Wu and Xiao Wu almost cracked up as well.
Ouyang Feng knit his brows, feeling more and more awkward the more he said it.
“Ouyang Cai...”
“Doesn't sound good.”
Huang Rong stroked her chin, feigning deep thought:
“Ah, then I might have misremembered.”
“My goodness, look at my memory. It doesn't seem to be Ouyang Cai after all.”
“It should be Ouyang Fan—Ouyang Rice.”
“Or perhaps Ouyang Mantou—Ouyang Steamed Bun, Ouyang Tianji—Ouyang Bullfrog, or Ouyang Chouguiyu—Ouyang Stinky Mandarin Fish.”
Veins bulged across Ouyang Feng's forehead as he listened. Hands clutching his hair tightly, he stomped his feet in sheer desperation:
“No! No!”
“How could my name revolve entirely around the kitchen?!”
Huang Rong giggled behind her handkerchief, smiling coldly:
“You can still tell it sounds terrible. Looks like you haven't gone completely mad yet, old scoundrel.”
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