Chapter Twenty-Nine: Breakthrough

“Hm?” Ma Yi sat up, his expression dark as he looked at Chen Yuanshan. “Whose idea was this?”

“Liu Jing’s. She said she hoped you’d help us out for the sake of your past friendship.” Chen Yuanshan didn’t dare meet Ma Yi’s gaze. His legs were already bent, prepared to drop to his knees at the slightest sign of Ma Yi’s anger.

Ma Yi simply stared at him in silence. Chen Liang stood off to the side, sweating bullets. The pressure Ma Yi was exerting was immense. As his uncle used to say, people with strong personalities are easy to control, but the truly dangerous ones are those who betray no emotion at all.

“Liu Jing just came to tell me these people planned to leave. Why didn’t she say anything before? There has to be something going on that I don’t know,” Ma Yi pondered. After all, there had once been a hint of something ambiguous between him and Liu Jing’s group, even if nothing substantial occurred. Still, he couldn’t completely disregard that bit of sentiment, nor could he let this old fox manipulate him for nothing. If people needed to be knocked down a peg, so be it. He was too soft-hearted.

“Fine, from now on, our paths diverge. I won’t use the fact that I saved you to threaten or coerce you. But from here on out, you’d better mind yourselves. Understand what can and can’t be said.” Chen Yuanshan heard the message loud and clear: Ma Yi had had a minor flirtation with those women, but saving them was something they’d volunteered to repay. Now that they were using this to make demands, it was best to go their separate ways. Whatever happened here, think twice before speaking of it outside. If word ever reached Ma Yi’s ears, there’d be nothing left of you to bury.

“Thank you, Brother Ant. Don’t worry, I, Old Chen, am not one to gossip, and I’ll tell them the same.” Chen Yuanshan bowed his head in gratitude.

After Chen Yuanshan left, Ma Yi beckoned, and Whirlwind darted to his side. Ma Yi whispered a few words to him, and Whirlwind was gone in a flash.

Ma Yi was gradually growing accustomed to his diminishing stature—there was no helping it. It was the price of increased power: the more his body compressed, the stronger he became. It was a pain both literal and psychological.

With his body growing smaller, Ma Yi’s temper was becoming ever more volatile. He would often be seized by inexplicable bouts of agitation, as if something was constantly watching him.

In recent days, his temper had worsened further. He would suddenly feel a bloodthirsty urge, and several times, while sparring with Ruhua, he’d nearly injured her.

“Am I about to lose control?” Ma Yi gazed at Ruhua resting on the bed, her once-smooth skin now covered in bruises. Guilt and worry gnawed at him. He didn’t even dare stay with Liu Wen, terrified he might one day lose control and hurt them.

“It’s nothing. I’ll be fine soon.” Ruhua reached out to caress Ma Yi’s cheek. Lately, he’d become strange—once so gentle, now at times frighteningly fierce. All she could do was care for him and try not to burden him further.

“You rest. I’m going out for a walk. Tell Liu Wen and the others not to worry about me, and please look after them.” Ma Yi had made up his mind to distance himself from those dearest to him. If he recovered, he’d return; if he lost himself, he’d simply fade from their memories.

“You’re leaving? Take me with you,” Ruhua said, heart pounding as she sat up and clung to his arm. She’d been tricked into coming here by Ma Yi when she was still naive, but now she’d grown up. This scoundrel was trying to shirk responsibility. After reading too many romance novels lately, her mind ran rampant with worries.

“It’s only for a while. I’m afraid I’ll lose control. It could be days, maybe a month. As soon as I’m myself again, I’ll come back for you. You all mean the world to me, and I’ll never abandon you.” Though Ma Yi didn’t want to leave, he feared losing control more. He would rather suffer alone than risk hurting those he cherished.

“Do you really have to go? I’ll be fine. If you get angry, you can take it out on me.” The more understanding Ruhua was, the less Ma Yi could bear to hurt them.

Ma Yi gently stroked her face and smiled. “Silly girl, I promise I’ll do my best to control myself. You still don’t trust me? When have I ever lied to you? Wait for me at home, and don’t let yourselves waste away. Take care of each other. It’s not that you’re less important to me—the others are just weaker, that’s all. Understand?” He gazed at her, wanting to etch her image into his memory.

“I will, don’t worry. Even if danger comes, as long as I draw breath, I won’t let them be harmed.” Ruhua nodded, understanding that Ma Yi didn’t plan to say farewell to Liu Wen and the others, entrusting everything to her instead.

“Silly, you’ve got plenty of people under you. Let them take the risks. As long as you’re all safe, I don’t care what happens to them. And if the worst comes to pass, run—leave me a sign, and I’ll find you.” Of all his followers, only Iron Pillar had truly earned Ma Yi’s trust, perhaps because people always remember their first impressions most vividly.

Before leaving, Ma Yi met with Iron Pillar, instructing him to obey Ruhua and protect the others after he was gone. Iron Pillar nodded earnestly, vowing to keep them safe and sound until Ma Yi returned. Ma Yi was comforted, telling Iron Pillar that if things became desperate, he should lead them to safety—survival was all that mattered.

The black night did nothing to hinder Ma Yi’s vision. With four small mice at his side, he picked a direction and walked on and on. When hungry, he foraged for food; when tired, he slipped into abandoned houses or hid beneath bridges.

The restless power within him grew ever more intense. At times, Ma Yi would blink and find himself in an unfamiliar place, unsure whether he was awake or not.

Pausing by the water’s edge, he watched the lush reeds and the mutant egrets or other birds snatch odd-looking fish from the water. The world was changing. Ma Yi, like a monk who had attained enlightenment, sat and watched, lost in thought. He had no idea how long he’d walked. He spent much of his time dazed, his memories slipping away as if every day something was lost, except for the villa on South Mountain and those he cared for, which remained imprinted on the depths of his mind.

When Ma Yi regained consciousness, he saw the ruins scattered around him. What had once been a peaceful village was now utterly destroyed. Nothing within hundreds of meters was left standing. This was his third time losing control, and it was more terrifying than his confusion and memory lapses—he hadn’t the slightest idea what had happened. He would awaken to devastation.

“I understand.” Ma Yi questioned the little mice, watching as one lay on the ground, then suddenly leapt up, rolled around, and began clawing at everything nearby—mimicking what happened when Ma Yi lost control. This was one reason he kept the four creatures with him: if something happened, at least one could return to give a warning. With their special abilities, they might even find the Rat King.

Before leaving, Ma Yi had secretly instructed Ruhua to keep the Rat King, while he took the four mice. That way, if he returned and they were gone from the villa, he could still find them.

The stronger he became, the greater the blockage in his heart. He was finding it harder to control his power, like a martial arts character who’d fallen into a demonic trance. He forced himself to calm down, recalling the films where the most powerful masters meditated on life and existence. Each time he regained clarity, he would review the past two decades of his life, not just for enlightenment but also out of fear of forgetting.

If outsiders saw Ma Yi, they’d think he was crazy—sometimes silent, sometimes weeping, sometimes shaking his head, sometimes laughing out loud.

He remembered the first time he saw Liu Wen, radiant in a striking red bridal gown, her face aglow with happiness as she toasted guests at the banquet, following her groom. Ma Yi had sat on the stairs, watching with envy and longing. He resented his birth parents—if they never intended to keep him, why bring him into the world? He sometimes imagined that one day a pair of elderly strangers might turn up, offering remorseful explanations for abandoning him. He didn’t dream of wealth or glory—just a normal family like everyone else.

He’d silently endured society’s injustices, the bullying by superiors and colleagues. Powerless to resist, he accepted it all. He had no ability to change the world; each time he found a stable job, it crumbled into nothing.

He was proud of his own courage. That bride in red was his now. He savored every simple, warm moment together—no intrigue, no drama, just things falling naturally into place. She was his.

A mountain is a mountain, water is water. Ma Yi walked along a mossy, shrub-lined path. At less than a meter and a half tall, he looked strange, almost dwarfish. The mice at his side had grown to a meter long, yet Ma Yi, once four meters tall, was now reduced to a mere one and a half, still shrinking.

Despite his small size, every step he took cracked the stones beneath his feet. The giant mice could no longer carry him—he weighed several times more than he did at four meters. Gone was his golden skin; now, after so many days away, his body was of gold-grade strength. Yet the stronger he got, the more violent grew the storm inside. Ma Yi sensed something wrestling with him for control of his mind.

Now, Ma Yi appeared almost ordinary—aside from his complete lack of hair, he looked no different from a human. His skin had returned to a normal color, and he resembled a boy of fourteen or fifteen. This was the very image of himself from his early teens.