Chapter 18: Fear Is Merely a Choice

If it were the Ning Xiu before his rebirth, reading these things would have left him at most somewhat suspicious. Now, however, it only served to further confirm the suspicions in his heart.

As the sun set and dusk fell, Ning Mingfeng had still not returned. Ning Xiu sat at his desk in silence; no one could guess what occupied his mind.

Night crept in quietly, and after a long, exhausting day, Ning Mingfeng finally came back from the yamen, his face etched with fatigue. After dismissing the servants, the elderly man, now past seventy, made his way alone to his study.

The red sandalwood door creaked open, revealing a dim and silent room. With practiced hands, the old man struck a flint to light the candle on his desk. Turning with a detached air, he caught sight of a face both familiar and strange, flickering in the yellow glow of the flame.

“Grandfather.”

Hearing the voice, Ning Mingfeng paused in surprise. After a moment, he spoke, “Xiu’er, you’re still here? It’s so late—I thought you’d gone to rest already.”

Ning Xiu rose with a smile. “I’ve just returned, Grandfather, and hadn’t yet had a chance to report my safe return. Besides, the night is still young; you, too, have only just come back.”

With Ning Xiu’s support, Ning Mingfeng sat down. The old man lifted his head to look at Ning Xiu and said, “You’ve worked hard escorting the caravan this time. No one could have foreseen that those Black Wind Mountain bandits would appear, but thankfully, you came back unharmed.”

The men from the Four Seas Escort Agency had returned to Shouchun more than a month before Ning Xiu. To claim the remainder of their commission, they naturally came to the Ning residence. They had already informed Ning Mingfeng about the compensation for the fallen guards, and Ning Xiu had also sent a letter regarding the matter.

“My safety is of little consequence, Grandfather. What matters is that the goods arrived unharmed,” Ning Xiu replied.

“I heard from the servants that you went to the yamen today. Was it about the Sun family massacre?”

Ning Mingfeng nodded. “The Sun family was one of the great clans in the county. Such an incident naturally drew the yamen’s attention. Magistrate Sun not only consulted me today but also summoned the Dai and Chen families.”

The Dai, Chen, and Ning families together controlled nearly seventy percent of Shouchun’s commercial lifeblood, their reach extending across all trades and, with the government’s involvement, even further.

It could be said that the four who met today held Shouchun’s future in their hands.

Ning Xiu paused, then asked, “Has the culprit been found?”

“It was the Black Wind Mountain bandits. These mountain bandits come and go like the wind—where would you even begin to look?” Ning Mingfeng glanced at Ning Xiu, the corner of his eye flicking toward the bookshelf, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his gaze before he quickly masked it.

“Why? Do you think there’s something strange about the case, Xiu’er?”

“I’m not a constable; how could I know so much? I was merely curious.” Ning Xiu smiled and stood up. “Grandfather, you should rest. If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave.”

“Go on,” Ning Mingfeng replied, waving a hand.

Ning Xiu bowed and withdrew. At the door, he suddenly turned back. “There’s one more thing I forgot to report. On the night we lodged at the Wang family’s, two of the guards disappeared and have yet to be found. The Four Seas Escort Agency didn’t pursue the matter, so I didn’t mention it in my letter.”

The room fell silent. After a while, Ning Mingfeng’s voice sounded again.

“...I understand.”

Even though Ning Mingfeng tried his best to hide it, Ning Xiu still heard the tremor in his words—a tremor born of fear.

He cast a long glance at the depths of the study before leaving, never looking back until his figure was swallowed by the night.

After Ning Xiu left, the flame in the study extinguished as well. But Ning Mingfeng did not emerge. In the pitch-black room, his eyes shone all the brighter.

The old man rose, walked to the bookshelf, and ran his wrinkled hands over the books. He knew this room so intimately that he could tell at a glance if anything had been moved.

He pulled out a yellowed volume, falling into a long silence. He suspected that his clever grandson had uncovered something, yet still chose not to reveal the truth.

“What good is knowledge? It would only bring more pain and despair...” the old man murmured, his voice echoing in the empty room.

...

A single-plank bridge stretched across a bottomless abyss. A blind man could cross it with ease.

But a sighted man who knows the truth cannot take even a single step.

If a person realized that every day of their life was spent walking such a bridge—with no end in sight—how deep would their despair and terror be?

A single misstep would mean destruction.

This was why Ning Mingfeng had not told Ning Xiu the truth. Even if he did, it would change nothing.

Ning Xiu could more or less guess his grandfather’s reasoning. And he had already obtained the answer he sought.

As for danger, it exists whether you’re aware of it or not; fear is merely a choice.

This was Ning Mingfeng’s choice, but not Ning Xiu’s.

In the days that followed, Shouchun returned to its usual calm. It was as if everyone had forgotten the series of recent tragedies. Life went on.

Ning Xiu trained harder than ever—“desperate” would not be an exaggeration. He practiced his blade, cultivated the Nine Suns method, barely allowing himself a moment’s rest.

As his strength grew, so did his appetite, and he ate only meat. Refining the essence into qi required nourishment—without food, such reckless training would have felled him long ago. In addition to his increased meals, Ning Xiu consumed many precious medicinal herbs, and never missed his twice-daily medicinal baths.

Here, he had Zhang Heng to thank. Having spent decades in the martial world, Zhang Heng knew many secret techniques for maximizing the efficacy of these herbs.

Ning Mingfeng, recognizing his grandson’s resolve, granted his every request, which provoked much muttering among the first and second branches of the family. But in the face of Ning Mingfeng’s authority, they could only swallow their grievances in silence.

“Father really is getting old, letting that brat Ning Xiu do as he pleases. Martial arts? At his age? What could he possibly achieve, starting so late? Is he going to win the military examination and become a champion?” Ning Zhiyuan, Ning Xiu’s eldest uncle, said darkly.

“Exactly. In just over twenty days, the cost of herbs alone is over a thousand taels of silver. Madness! Does Father think our family’s money grows on trees? It’s been too long since he’s managed the business himself—he’s forgotten our hardships. He can afford to forget as a father, but as sons, we must remind him,” added the second uncle, Ning Mingzhi, his face equally grim.