The Crippled Wanderer, seeing that the chivalrous Wu Tong himself had stepped forward to plead for the two men, though unwilling in his heart, also understood that Wu Tong was giving him ample face. Before the assembled heroes of the realm he had already seized the upper hand; if he pressed the matter further, it would only make him seem petty and narrow-minded.
At this thought he gave a cold snort, lifted his chin, and said in a proud yet commanding tone:"Since Lord Wu of the Loyalty Hall has spoken on their behalf, I shall let this matter rest for today! But should they offend me again, I will show no mercy!"
At these words, the gathered martial heroes all nodded, murmuring among themselves. They judged that though ruthless, the Crippled Wanderer still distinguished clearly between gratitude and grievance; he had not pressed the advantage but showed a measure of dignity.
Wu Tong, seeing him relent, immediately cupped his fists and said solemnly:"I thank Brother Hen for sparing them. Such magnanimity—repaying hatred with virtue—shall be sung throughout the martial world."
Then, turning sharply toward the two men on the ground, his gaze like steel, he barked:"Heaven-Cripple, Earth-Cripple—still not bowing in thanks for Brother Hen's mercy?"
The two, trembling, were nothing like their former arrogant selves. Meeting each other's eyes, they saw only terror and despair reflected back. They quickly prostrated, their voices quivering:"Thank you, Great Hero Hen, for sparing us and showing mercy!"
They knocked their heads thrice against the earth, each thud heavy, leaving their foreheads streaked with dust, their figures pitiful and broken.
Wu Tong, watching, sighed inwardly. The grudges of the world were often no more than this. As Confucius said: "Bo Yi and Shu Qi bore no grudges; thus resentment against them was rare." Not all enmities must end in blood, yet good and evil always find their reward—no man escapes the laws of Jianghu.
His eyes flickered, and in a deep voice he said:"You two may leave."
The Crippled Duo, as if pardoned from death, scrambled up, saluted Wu Tong, and staggered away like men fleeing for their lives. Once so arrogant, now they departed in disgrace, their ruined figures watched silently by the crowd.
Just when all thought the storm had passed, Wu Tong suddenly thundered:"Meat-and-Wine Monk! What are you waiting for? Come forth and kowtow in apology!"
The crowd gasped and turned to him. He still stood upright, his face strained, fists clenched, pride and defiance struggling within him. Yet today's events echoed the words of the Grand Supreme Lord: "Fortune and misfortune are summoned by men themselves; good and evil follow like shadows." His tongue had won him a fleeting satisfaction, but to gamble his life on it—he had not the courage.
Seeing him hesitate, Wu Tong's voice grew colder, booming like thunder:"Still not kowtowing? If you delay further, I shall cripple an arm and a leg myself, and save Brother Hen the trouble!"
The monk shuddered as if struck by lightning, cold sweat pouring down. He thought: "I have already offended the Crippled Wanderer. If I now provoke Wu Tong as well, calamity will surely follow!" Knowing resistance meant death, though his heart seethed with shame, he could only swallow his pride.
His lips trembled as if to speak, but Wu Tong's unyielding gaze silenced him. With a long, helpless sigh, he stepped forward. Reaching the Crippled Wanderer, his knees gave way and he collapsed with a thud. His hands clenched his robes till his knuckles whitened, pride utterly crushed. Life was at stake—what dignity could he still claim?
"Thank you, Great Hero Hen, for sparing my life…" he muttered, his voice low and shaking, weighed with humiliation. He bowed his head and knocked it thrice upon the ground, each strike smashing another piece of his arrogance.
The Crippled Wanderer looked down coldly, eyes filled with scorn. His voice was like winter ice:"Were it not for Lord Wu's plea, your arrogance would already have cost you your life. I will let it pass today. But should you cross me again, I will not forgive. Begone!"
"Yes…" The Meat-and-Wine Monk forced down his fury, rose shakily, face ashen. He bowed stiffly toward Wu Tong, then turned and staggered away, his steps heavy and broken. Though he had kept his life, his name was ruined. No longer would he be the swaggering "Meat-and-Wine Monk," but the laughingstock who knelt and kowtowed before all Jianghu.
A verse was composed:
The Crippled Manual emerges in Jianghu,Peerless skill reigns over the martial world.Fate is summoned by one's own deeds,True contrition is shown in bowed head and bloodied brow.
Thus ended the affair. The monk had preserved his life but lost his face. The crowd dispersed, but this tale would spread through the martial world for years to come.
Wu Tong now laughed heartily, cupped his fists and declared:"I thank Brother Hen for his mercy, repaying hatred with virtue. When next we meet, let us drink together as friends. For now, I take my leave."
His voice rang with the candor of a true hero. The Crippled Wanderer, though fierce by nature and rarely yielding to others, felt newfound respect stir within him. He nodded slightly and returned the salute:"Lord Wu, famed across the land, you have my deepest admiration. When we meet again, we shall drink our fill together. Till then, farewell."
The two men exchanged a knowing smile. Though unspoken, a bond of mutual respect had been forged.
By then, night had fallen. The company rode toward the city inn. Hooves echoed through the silent dark as the city's outline came into view. The inn was already overflowing, lit bright as day, filled with countless martial guests. Tension and excitement filled the air.
"For tomorrow is the duel—Lord of the True God Palace, Tuoba Xingge, against the Celestial Lord of Nine Heavens, Long Zhentian!"
This challenge had already shaken the martial world, drawing all eyes to Huangshan Palace. Some came merely to witness, others schemed in secret, still others sought to befriend the great names gathered here. Whatever the reason, on this night the city blazed with voices and light—truly the very heart of Jianghu.