Volume Two: The Youth with a Thousand Faces, True or False Chapter Eighty-Two: Shangguan Qingcai

Tonight, Huo Ye was in extraordinary form; his reflexes and concentration soared to unprecedented heights, even his breathing felt effortless. Winning the championship, exceeding two thousand points—these achievements would allow his club to continue training, leading up to the Club Wars. One step followed another, and tonight’s race marked the beginning of everything. Therefore, he had to give his all, to unleash every skill he had ever learned behind the wheel.

If he was to go all out, why not take this opportunity for a wild game? He set his hover bike to autopilot, then pushed himself up to stand, feet planted firmly on the seat. Drawing his twin demon-blade swords, he turned, whistled loudly to the twenty-two riders behind him, and declared with swagger, “Gentlemen, I have a grand gift for you all.”

As soon as his words faded, he crossed his arms in front of him, blades pointed backward, their edges aimed straight at his rivals, ready in his opening stance.

Fang Slash: Breaking Gale!

Moves may be fixed, but people are alive. Standing atop his bike, Huo Ye could not directly strike those behind him. Instead, he blended the third and seventh forms, using the group attack of Fang Slash to unleash the tempest of Breaking Gale. Countless arcs of blade light spun overhead, resembling a myriad of crescent moons, their momentum like leaves swept up in a fierce wind—seemingly fragile, yet utterly unstoppable.

“Damn it… what is that!”

“He’s attacking right from the start?”

The riders scrambled to dodge Huo Ye’s supernatural technique; the dark blade light grazed past, but some bikes were struck. Hover bikes were heavy and made of incredibly tough materials. Though Huo Ye’s attack didn’t destroy their engines or parts outright, it left enough damage to affect their speed.

“Little Reaper! You’re too vile! You sabotaged our bikes before we even reached the first obstacle!”

“Yeah, just you wait!”

The riders behind him complained loudly, but Huo Ye was unmoved. He only shrugged, lips curled upward, eyes narrowing, a wicked smile brimming with disdain and contempt. His words pierced each heart with malice, “Heh, if you think you’re tough, come and try it, weaklings!”

In the broadcast booth, Lu Fei commented, “Wow, looks like the Little Reaper is as flamboyant as ever. Although attacking others is allowed, doing so right at the start surely makes enemies. Will his team withstand the combined assault from other groups?”

In the audience, Jiang Feng stroked his chin thoughtfully. “The boss seems a bit off tonight. Sort of…”

“Evil?” Lei Limi ventured.

“Yes! Evil. Not like the boss at all. He usually has a sharp tongue, but he’s always gentle.”

Alice, however, remained calm. “Perfectly normal. When my brother gets into the game, that’s just how he is—almost like he’s split in two. He’s probably been suppressing himself lately, so the race is his way to relax. With Xiao Yu sharing the stress, he can mess around even more recklessly.”

Jiang Feng was momentarily stunned. So the boss had this side to him—best to remember that, and avoid provoking him when he’s in high spirits. Dangerous!

But Huo Ye wasn’t just playing. This was necessary. He had to keep every eye fixed on him throughout; otherwise, where would those two thousand points come from?

Jin Puxian gritted his teeth, gripping the throttle tighter. He was biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to crush Huo Ye, to prove to Kazama Liuli that he was stronger!

Kazama Liuli, who had been dozing, suddenly opened her eyes, glanced at the battle on the big screen, seemed to read something there, and murmured softly, “Sorry, Captain, for letting you be tangled up with such a strange fellow.” With that, she drifted back to sleep.

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The Shangguan family: Sora Colony’s most prominent name, a titan in commerce, always in the spotlight. Few knew, however, that the elderly patriarch, Shangguan Qingcai, living out his days in peace, was once the legendary smith, Copper-Arm Ghost, visited by countless prodigies but never granting them a single mystical weapon.

No one had ever seen Copper-Arm Ghost’s true face, for his mastery of disguise was unrivaled. In his youth, he appeared masked—sometimes an old man, sometimes a child with golden hair, his appearance ever-changing, countless rumors swirling, but never a conclusion.

After retiring, he forged a war scythe for that person—a masterpiece of the era, Lucifer’s Wing.

On retirement, Shangguan Qingcai vowed never to forge weapons for others more than three times in his life, a public declaration. In truth, his forge and copper hammer could only perform three more creations. Copper-Arm Ghost’s skill was not born of nothing; in his youth, he had his own adventures, and the forge and hammer were ancient heirlooms. When their fire faded, no matter his skill, Copper-Arm Ghost would cease to exist. Now, these two divine tools can barely endure, like the ancient site that once housed them, worn and fragile before the winds and rain.

But today, a visitor arrived bearing gifts—Black Death, Eddie Halls.

“Hmph. Speak. What brings you to this old man?” Shangguan Qingcai was blunt, his tone unfriendly. The cause went back years: his daughter once fancied Eddie. Shangguan Qingcai thought their friendship, plus Eddie’s debt for Lucifer’s Wing, would make a marriage easy. But Eddie flatly refused at the engagement banquet, humiliating the old man.

Thus, twenty years passed, and Shangguan Qingcai still greeted Eddie with a sour face.

“What’s the matter, old man? I squeezed you into my busy schedule, and you’re not grateful?” Eddie was never one for pleasantries, especially with Shangguan Qingcai.

Shangguan Hong, head of the family, hurried to mediate, “Ha ha, indeed, Eddie’s visit brings honor to the Shangguan house. Father, you’ve known each other so long, why argue the moment you meet?”

Early on, Shangguan Jing, who nearly married Eddie, also interjected, “Exactly, Dad, I don’t care about the past anymore. Both Eddie and I have our own families now, and we’re happy.”

Shangguan Qingcai snorted coldly. “What do you know! I’ve known this rascal nearly thirty years—I see right through him. He comes bearing gifts, clearly scheming. Speak, what do you want from my family this time?”

Eddie paid no mind to Shangguan Qingcai’s harsh words; he was long used to them. He said simply, “My son needs a pair of sabers.”

At that, Shangguan Qingcai slammed the table, priceless tea ware crashing to the floor, ignored by all. The old man stood, furious. “Well done, Eddie Halls! So bold! After my retirement, I can only forge three divine weapons. You took one for yourself, and now you want another for your son? Do you think I owe you?”

Shangguan Hong was about to urge his father to calm down, but Eddie had already stood, speaking solemnly, “You don’t owe me. But that’s not the point. He needs the best—he deserves it. No one deserves it more!”

“That son of yours, with his dubious origins? You say he deserves it? Why should I believe you?”

“Say that again, old man.”

“I’ll say it again! That adopted son of yours—why should he have my divine weapon?”

“I say he deserves it, and he does!”

“And I say he doesn’t!”

The two bickered irrationally, while Shangguan Hong and Shangguan Jing looked on with wry smiles. Their relationship was as close as ever—the old man always turned into a mischievous child when he saw Captain Halls, all the gravitas of a grand master forgotten.