445: Chapter 445 What is the strongest martial art in this world?

During the Qingming Festival, a drizzle fell like fine butter.

The curtain of rain enveloping Dongdu City added a touch of Jiangnan water town gentleness and melancholy to the bustling city.

Xishan Cemetery, the largest public cemetery in the city, was currently soaked in this misty drizzle.

The bluestone steps were slick, while the pines and cypresses on both sides appeared all the more verdant and solemn.

The air was filled with the faint earthy tang and fresh scent of vegetation, along with the smell of burning incense, candles, and joss paper.

People holding all kinds of umbrellas walked up the winding mountain road in twos and threes.

Their footsteps were soft, and their voices were kept low, as if fearing they might disturb the Souls resting here for eternity.

Fang Cheng held a large black umbrella, walking between his mother, Li Biyun, and his grandfather, Grandfather Li Zhenhua.

He deliberately slowed his pace and tilted the canopy slightly toward his mother, covering her completely.

His other hand supported his grandfather's arm to prevent the old man from slipping on the slick steps.

Today, Li Biyun wore an elegant black dress, her hair pulled back into a simple bun, her expression somber.

Every year on this day was an emotional ordeal for her.

Grandfather Li Zhenhua carried a bamboo basket containing offerings, incense, and candles.

Changing his usual talkative nature, the old man silently followed along beside his grandson, Fang Cheng.

Under the gloomy sky, the wrinkles on his face seemed to deepen a bit more.

The steps leading to the graveyard were long, with a steady stream of passersby who, like them, walked silently with solemn expressions under umbrellas.

Slanted threads of rain tapped lightly against the umbrella surface, making soft rustling sounds that were extraordinarily clear in the silence.

Finally, after weaving through rows of tombstones for a moment, the three stopped at a relatively secluded corner.

The tombstone here was much simpler than the others—just an ordinary bluestone monument.

Weathered by years of wind and rain, a little moss had grown on its edges.

Embedded in the center of the gravestone was a somewhat faded black-and-white photograph.

The man in the photograph was handsome, with deep-set eyes, a high nose bridge, and a faint, subtle smile at the corner of his lips.

His eyes were bright and clear, conveying a gentle determination.

Looking closely, one could see that his facial contours were seventy percent similar to Fang Cheng's, though his temperament was more refined and reserved.

A few lines of text were carved onto the monument with vigorous strokes.

Tomb of the Late Father, Mr. Fang Shijie.

Respectfully erected by his dutiful son, Fang Cheng, and wife, Li Biyun.

There were no dates of birth and death, no biography, only the simplest identity and name.

The fire seventeen years ago seemed to have turned everything into ashes.

"Shijie, we've come to see you."

Li Biyun stared at the familiar name on the tombstone, her eyes instantly reddening.

Taking the basket from Grandfather Li Zhenhua, she carefully arranged the sacrificial dishes, fruits, pastries, and a small bottle of liquor in front of the tombstone one by one.

Fang Cheng put down the umbrella, pulled out a clean cloth from the bottom of the basket, squatted down, and meticulously wiped every inch of the tombstone.

His actions were gentle and focused, as if he were not wiping cold stone, but brushing away the dust of travel from his father.

Grandfather Li Zhenhua lit three incense sticks, handing them to his daughter and grandson.

Curling blue smoke drew straight thin lines through the damp air before slowly dispersing.

The three stood side by side in solemn reverence, bowing deeply three times before the tombstone.

"Shijie, how are you doing over there?"

Li Biyun then squatted down, tossing joss paper into the brazier while chattering softly to her husband.

"Everything at home is fine, don't worry. Chengcheng has grown up now, very sensible and filial..."

"Also, Dingjian bought my dad a new house in Wanghu Town, which is very close to here. I can come visit you often in the future so you won't feel lonely..."

After only a few words, an uncontrollable choke entered her voice, and tears spun ceaselessly in her eyes.

"You used to say that once the company stabilized, you'd take me to find a scenic place to live in seclusion and open a small restaurant—you'd be the chef, I'd manage the books, and Chengcheng could help wait tables when he had time, living a quiet, stable life as a family."

"But now... Chengcheng has grown so big, yet you're no longer here..."

Li Biyun sniffled, her voice suddenly trembling.

"They all say you're a murderer, but I know that even when you saw strangers who couldn't afford medical treatment, your heart would soften and you'd help them out with money. How could you possibly murder anyone?"

"Shijie, I don't believe it. I don't believe a single word..."

Saying this, she could no longer control herself, and tears poured out like a broken dam.

Rolling down her cheeks like broken strings of pearls, they dripped into the flickering flames with a quiet sizzle.

Fang Cheng was about to bend down and support his mother's arm to comfort her.

But Grandfather Li Zhenhua reached out to stop him, gently shook his head, and lowered his voice:

"Let your mother cry for a bit. Crying it out will make her feel better. Over all these years, your mother has held back too much pain."

The firelight reflected off the tear tracks on Li Biyun's face, flickering brightly and dimly.

Her slender shoulders trembled slightly as her entire being sank into endless sorrow.

Watching his daughter sob uncontrollably, the old man couldn't help but sigh as well.

He raised a hand to wipe the corners of his eyes and looked at the photo on the tombstone, his gaze turning distant.

As if looking through the cold stone monument, he saw scenes from many years ago.

"I still remember what it was like when I first met your father."

"Back then, he had just started dating your mother. When he came to our house for dinner, he was so nervous he didn't know where to put his hands and nearly spilled water holding a teacup."

"But his eyes were so bright, and the deep affection in them when he looked at your mother couldn't be hidden at all."

"At that time, I told your grandmother that this young man was honest and genuine with people, someone worthy of being with."

Grandfather Li Zhenhua paused and sighed again:

"Later, when your family moved, the building had no elevator. He carried the heaviest refrigerator all by himself, carrying it on his back from the first floor to the ninth. His face turned purple, yet he didn't utter a single complaint."

"How could a man so willing to endure hardship and take on responsibility be the atrocious villain described in the newspapers?"

The old man had spoken these words specifically for Fang Cheng to hear.

He feared that seventeen years of infamy would leave a shadow on his grandson's heart, afraid the boy would doubt his own father.

This was both to unburden his grandson's heart and to reassure himself again and again that he had definitely not been mistaken back then.

Fang Cheng listened quietly, holding the umbrella over his mother's head to shield her from the icy drizzle.

As his gaze fell upon the tombstone and he looked at his father's gentle smile in the photo, a surge of emotions welled up in his heart.

Vignettes from his childhood vaguely flashed before his eyes—his father spinning him around in his arms, teaching him to write and draw—intermingled with the sights of his mother secretly wiping tears over the years.

All these emotions eventually settled into a firm strength.

Facing the tombstone, Fang Cheng made a silent vow in his heart:

*Dad, rest in peace. I will take good care of Mom and won't let her suffer even the slightest grievance ever again.*

*I will also definitely uncover the truth of what happened back then, find the true culprit, wash away all the mud slung at you, and restore your reputation.*

A gust of mountain wind blew past, whipping up ashes of joss paper that fluttered across the sky like black butterflies.

The rain seemed to lighten somewhat, and the distant mountains flickered in and out of sight amidst the rainy fog, adding a touch of bleakness.

Just then, out of the corner of his eye, Fang Cheng caught sight of three figures walking toward them on the stone steps not far away.

Leading them was an elderly man wearing a well-fitted gray executive jacket.

Although his hair was graying, his waist and back were as straight as a pine tree, his steps steady, each footfall seeming as if rooted in the earth.

Despite his advanced age, Fang Cheng could clearly feel that inside that seemingly thin body burned a vigor of blood and Qi as intense as a furnace.

Two people followed behind the elderly man.

One was a middle-aged man with ordinary features and a vigilant expression.

The other was a burly man whom Fang Cheng recognized as Wei Zheng, whom he had met at the Ma Family home a few days ago.

Seeing Wei Zheng's figure appear here, Fang Cheng's gaze narrowed slightly, a faint guess forming in his mind.

These three were likely coming for him.

Sure enough, Wei Zheng spotted Fang Cheng at once and walked up quickly, his face showing a perfectly measured blend of surprise and familiarity:

"Junior Brother Fang, what a coincidence. You came to visit graves, too?"

The sound of the greeting startled Li Biyun and Grandfather Li Zhenhua; they paused their worship and looked over in confusion.

Wei Zheng immediately nodded politely to the two elders:

"Hello, I'm a friend of Fang Cheng. Today I'm here at the cemetery with my leader to visit a few fallen comrades."

This reason was completely logical and irreproachable.

Grandfather Li Zhenhua nodded and replied politely, "Hello, hello."

Wei Zheng then stepped aside to introduce the elderly man behind him:

"This is Elder Shi, former Minister of the Action Department of our Special Investigation Team, and also my most respected teacher."

"By the way, Elder Shi and Junior Martial Uncle Ma Jianguo are close friends of many years."

Former Minister of the Special Investigation Team!

This title caused the expressions of both Grandfather Li Zhenhua and Li Biyun to shift slightly, a touch of wariness entering their eyes.

Shi Chengyi's gaze rested briefly on Li Biyun and Grandfather Li Zhenhua before finally settling on Fang Cheng, a gentle smile appearing on his face without any air of a high-ranking official.

"Pardon the intrusion, please forgive us."

He first apologized politely, then turned his eyes to Fang Cheng with the admiration shared between Martial Artists:

"I've heard Jianguo mention you, saying he took in an exceptionally gifted final Disciple. Seeing you today, you truly prove that heroes emerge from youth."

"Elder Shi flatters me."

Fang Cheng replied neither humbly nor haughtily, though his mind was rapidly weighing the other's intentions.

"It's no flattery."

Shi Chengyi waved his hand and smiled:

"I'm a few years older and have gathered some insights along the path of martial arts."

"Just now I noticed your stance was grounded and your blood and Qi abundant; surely you have unique insights into boxing principles. Would you mind stepping aside to discuss a bit with this old man?"

His words were seamlessly delivered, flattering Fang Cheng while making a reasonable request.

Although Li Biyun and Grandfather Li Zhenhua didn't understand martial theory or blood and Qi, they could tell this grand figure held her son in special regard.

They exchanged a glance, unsure whether this was a blessing or a misfortune.

Shi Chengyi seemed to sense their concerns and gestured to Driver Xiao Zhang behind him.

Xiao Zhang immediately understood, took out a business card from his jacket, and handed it to Li Biyun with both hands.

"Ma'am, this is a small gesture of my goodwill."

Shi Chengyi's tone softened further as he explained:

"If you encounter any difficulties in life in the future, feel free to call this number. Consider it as me taking care of my martial nephew's family on Jianguo's behalf."

This gesture both expressed goodwill and showcased his approachable side, easing much of the guard in Li Biyun and Grandfather Li Zhenhua's hearts.

They also knew that Fang Cheng seemed to be practicing martial arts under a Tai Chi Great Master to build up his body.

And that Great Master was the father of Fang Cheng's friend, Ma Donghe, so they didn't think too much of it.

Fang Cheng, however, knew full well that the other party had an ulterior motive behind his words.

Originally, he had misgivings about the status of a high official from the Special Investigation Team and didn't want to get involved.

But the man not only addressed him as a fellow Martial Artist but also brought up Master Ma Jianguo, making it difficult to refuse.

After pondering for a moment, Fang Cheng nodded:

"Since Elder Shi is interested, this Junior will naturally accompany you."

Having said that, he reassured his mother and grandfather:

"Mom, Grandfather, wait for me here for a bit. I'll be back after talking with Elder Shi."

Wei Zheng and Driver Xiao Zhang immediately stepped forward, warmly striking up a conversation with Fang Cheng's family, chatting from weather to health with attentive enthusiasm.

Considering Fang Cheng's future, Grandfather Li Zhenhua and Li Biyun did not slight their enthusiasm despite feeling somewhat reserved, responding along with their conversation topics.

Back and forth, the atmosphere became quite harmonious.

Fang Cheng and Shi Chengyi walked one after the other along a quiet path, ascending a slightly elevated slope nearby.

There stood a stone pavilion for people to rest; outside the pavilion, fine rain fluttered, while inside was dead silent.

Standing here, one could look down upon most of the cemetery below, rows of gray-white tombstones standing in silent witness in the rain.

Distant blue smoke from incense intertwined with mountain fog, producing a vast, desolate Concept where life and death intersected.

Hands behind his back, Shi Chengyi looked at the sight down the mountain and spoke first, his voice steady and far-reaching.

"Martial Nephew Fang, what do you think is the strongest martial art in this world?"

Fang Cheng hadn't expected him to ask such a question; various combat styles and traditional martial arts flashed through his mind.

After pondering briefly, he gave a straightforward answer:

"The martial art that can defeat the enemy is the strongest."

"Wrong."

Shi Chengyi shook his head and turned around, his eyes as deep as the ocean:

"There is a very common yet dangerous misconception among the people of the world—they love to judge the superiority of a skill solely by its lethal power."

"If it were strictly a matter of winning or losing, learning martial arts would definitely not be the first choice in this world."

He paused, his voice turning deep and forceful:

"For ordinary people, the most efficient way to kill is with a gun; for those deviants with special abilities, fists and feet trained over ten years of hard work might not even be as lethal as a single thought of theirs."

"If it is merely to fight and prove who is tougher, the martial Dao is the lowest path."

"Then, if not for the most efficient slaughter, what is the true meaning behind the existence of martial arts?"

Shi Chengyi stared at Fang Cheng, seemingly answering his own question, yet a powerful conviction resonated in his voice:

"The answer is 'Cultivation'."