The setting sun had already sunk in the west, and white reeds covering the mountain swayed like lake waves in the wind. In the distant village, cooking smoke rose in wisps, adding several touches of warmth to the desolate twilight. In the dusk, the garrison of the Ninghai Guard was still drilling on the training ground outside the village. This deep autumn season was an excellent time for military training.

Meng Jianqing lay hidden in the white reed clumps beside the post road, gazing into the distance at Ninghai Guard encircled by winding streams, quietly waiting. He was certain he had arrived ahead of the Imperial Guard; if they had gotten there first, the Ninghai Guard would not be so peaceful at this moment.

Mountain winds swept vast, twilight deepened gradually, and the drilling garrison had already dispersed.

Night slowly descended, and the fields were so silent that only the faint sounds of laughter drifting from the village could be heard. By now, every household must be eating dinner.

From the other end of the post road, suddenly came the urgent sound of horse bells. Meng Jianqing bit his teeth and quickly took out a white handkerchief to cover most of his face.

At the other end of the post road, six riders appeared—precisely Officer Fan leading the Imperial Guards and the masked person responsible for identification.

Almost the moment he clearly saw the riders, Meng Jianqing had already drawn the short knife from his back.

As the six riders galloped past on the post road, a flash of blade light suddenly rolled out from the white reed clumps.

The blade light targeted the horses rather than the men—they were more obvious targets and easier to hit.

After one round of blade light, six horses collapsed with pained neighing, their severed hooves spattering blood. The masked person seemed quite old; after falling to the ground, he struggled for a time but couldn’t get up. When two horses pressed down on him, he cried out in agony. What made him even more terrified was the blade light rolling along the ground toward him.

Officer Fan couldn’t draw his sword in time and kicked out with his foot. Meng Jianqing took the kick to his back but still managed to slit the masked person’s throat with a backhand stroke before the other Imperial Guards could come to the rescue.

Five Imperial Guards roared in fury and drew their swords to attack Meng Jianqing. But Meng Jianqing had already rolled down the slope.

Below the post, the road was a bend in the stream, with a small stone bridge crossing the water. Beside the bridge stood an ancient tree with sprawling branches thick enough for two people to embrace. Meng Jianqing grabbed a branch and leaped into the dense foliage.

Two Imperial Guards who arrived first rushed to the other side of the stone bridge, blocking Meng Jianqing’s escape route, while the other three cut off his retreat from behind, trapping him in the tree.

The autumn night’s starlight shone coldly, reflecting off the ripples in the river. The flowing water gurgled, especially clear to hear in the quiet night.

In the densely growing branches of the ancient tree, however, neither person nor sound could be seen or heard.

With the enemy hidden and themselves exposed, the five Imperial Guards dared not attack rashly for the moment. After a brief standoff, Officer Fan ordered them to shoot arrows.

Arrow shafts crisscrossed through the tree branches. Even a cat hiding in the tree would hardly escape this well-trained arrow net.

But the tree grove remained silent without human sound.

Officer Fan shouted “Not good!” but was already a step too late. Just as the two Imperial Guards beside him shot their fifth arrows and their momentum was about to wane, a human figure suddenly burst from the soil at the base of the old tree, dancing a sheet of blade light close to the ground. The two Imperial Guards screamed and threw down their longbows, drawing swords to stab downward.

Meng Jianqing had already disappeared into a hole beneath the tree roots. Both long swords stabbed empty air, barely supporting the two Imperial Guards’ swaying bodies. Their legs were already a bloody mess with severed tendons and could no longer move an inch.

Officer Fan flew into a rage and chopped his sword toward the gnarled old tree that was harboring the criminal.

The tree’s roots were already rotten and couldn’t withstand his mountain-moving, world-conquering blow. It crashed down with a rumble, revealing a deep, black, bottomless hole in the center of the trunk.

Suddenly, two dark objects were thrown from the tree hole.

Officer Fan thought they were hidden weapons and blocked horizontally with his sword, but unexpectedly, they weren’t weapons at all, but two fat weasels. They were extremely cunning and agile—as soon as they met the blade, they immediately twisted their bodies and jumped onto his sword-wielding right arm with chattering cries. Though they didn’t bite down, being entangled by these furry, stinking, creature-like things was enough to make one irritated and flustered.

Officer Fan vigorously swung his right arm, trying to shake off these annoying things.

The two Imperial Guards running from the other side of the small stone bridge suddenly shouted: “Officer Fan, be careful!”

Behind him in the soil, blade light appeared again. Officer Fan couldn’t worry about the two weasels clinging to his arm and twisted his waist to turn around, chopping down with his sword. Meng Jianqing struggled to block this chop, then swept up a cloud of dust and fine sand with his left foot. The officer couldn’t help but squint his eyes and pressed down harder on Meng Jianqing’s blade to prevent him from taking this chance to withdraw and counterattack.

But Officer Fan’s lower abdomen suddenly felt pain.

What spun into his abdomen was a small, sharp knife. As the small blade entered his belly, its momentum unchecked, his internal organs felt as if they were being stirred to pieces with excruciating pain.

Officer Fan’s iron tower-like body couldn’t help but stiffen. Meng Jianqing had already leaped to attack. Officer Fan only felt his throat go cold. The two Imperial Guards rushing over watched helplessly as he crashed to the ground with a rumble, raising a cloud of dust, blood drops from his throat spattering on the grass.

Meng Jianqing stepped aside to avoid those blood drops, his right hand sweeping up diagonally as the short knife sliced across the necks of the two Imperial Guards who couldn’t move after their leg injuries.

Those two also fell with thuds.

The remaining two Imperial Guards were horrified with fear. Should they continue attacking this fierce masked man, or should they return to report?

But they no longer had the chance to hesitate.

Meng Jianqing gave a low shout and spun forward in attack.

Blade light flashed, and cold air was fierce.

No matter what, the two Imperial Guards had to first block this round of quick blades before they could retreat.

Both stepped forward two paces simultaneously, side by side, meeting this sheet of blade light.

Meng Jianqing’s short knife suddenly flew from his hand, carrying a sharp whistling sound as it spun toward the two Imperial Guards’ sabers. The two swords crossed to block, but they misjudged the short knife’s flight direction. The spinning blade flew in a rapid circle around their sword-wielding right arms and, with a “thud,” embedded itself in the old orange tree on the opposite bank.

Both their right arms were severed at the elbow. When their sabers crashed onto their own feet, they finally felt the bone-deep pain from their severed arms and screamed as they jumped up.

Meng Jianqing kicked up the two sabers from the ground with his feet and pinned both men to the hillside behind them through their chests.

The autumn moon had risen, shining coldly on the six horses lying across the post road with their throats cut, no longer able to neigh, and the six corpses scattered in the white reed clumps.

Meng Jianqing breathed a long sigh of relief, only then feeling that cold sweat had seeped through his back.

He could finally take care of everything before the Imperial Guard reached Ninghai Guard.

Meng Jianqing turned around. He had to retrieve his knife before leaving.

The moment he turned around, Meng Jianqing was shocked into stunned stillness.

A man with disheveled hair and a bare upper body was slowly rising from the river.

The initial shock passed in an instant. Meng Jianqing crouched down, his right hand flicking out a small knife that cut through the air toward the man who had suddenly appeared in the water.

The man raised his right hand, holding an old wood-chopping knife, barely managing to block this lightning-swift blade. The small knife was deflected with a sharp whistle toward the riverbank, also embedding itself in that old orange tree with its handle trembling and clattering.

Meng Jianqing’s heart shook greatly. His right foot immediately stepped on a saber on the ground, and with one press of the handle, the saber jumped up and was kicked by his flying foot, spinning rapidly toward the man.

If that man tried to block again with the wooden knife, this spinning and flying saber would be enough to circle his wooden knife and sever his right half.

But at the same time Meng Jianqing made his move, the man also gave a great shout and swung out his wooden knife. The wood knife’s rapid spinning direction was from top to bottom, exactly crossing the saber at right angles.

The two blades met in the air. Amid clanging sounds, sparks flew as both fell into the grass by the riverbank.

Meng Jianqing’s hand had already reached the other small sharp knife at his waist, but he managed to stop in time—

He asked uncertainly in a low voice: “Cross Slash?”

The man’s aged, hoarse voice came over: “Whirlwind Slash, Sky-Breaking Slash, Cross Slash—was it Yan Wu or Yan Qi who taught you? How many of the Thirteen Slashes have you learned?”

When he spoke, Meng Jianqing finally recognized who this man was, even more shocked: “Uncle Gen?”

Uncle Gen had drifted to Ninghai Guard five years ago and had been the favorite target for the group of young men there to tease, because no one was more honest, confused, and easygoing than Uncle Gen. Ninghai Guard Centurion Meng Zhiyuan really couldn’t bear to watch anymore and gave his second son Meng Jianchen, born of his principal wife, a severe beating. After that, the youths restrained themselves somewhat. However, it wasn’t until Uncle Gen once accidentally rescued Meng Zhiyuan’s young daughter from a pond that, out of respect for Centurion Meng, everyone stopped brazenly teasing Uncle Gen.

Meng Jianqing had been away for years and had only seen Uncle Gen a few times, but somehow he had an extremely deep impression of this submissive, confused old man. Perhaps it was because Uncle Gen’s concentration and skill when wielding his wood knife had once made him feel an illusion, as if that knife in Uncle Gen’s hands was a living creature, making him unconsciously develop some respect for Uncle Gen.

The moment Meng Jianqing called out Uncle Gen’s name, he immediately felt something was very wrong—even if he was still masked, Uncle Gen could guess his identity.

Uncle Gen stared at him in surprise.

This masked young man was so familiar with the hole in this old tree by the small stone bridge and could recognize him—he must be a local youth from Ninghai Guard. There didn’t seem to be many young men sent from Ninghai Guard to study martial arts elsewhere. Uncle Gen had already figured out who this masked person would be. He grinned and smiled. With this smile, the familiar old good Uncle Gen that Ninghai people knew had returned.

He grinned and said: “Young lad, I really couldn’t imagine that your father with such a meek and mild disposition could produce a son like you! Decisive and ruthless—nowadays it is the world of you young lads!”

Meng Jianqing instinctively felt that when he gave this eight-character assessment, he was quite approving. Had Uncle Gen in his youth also been such a character?

However, the sound of horse hooves suddenly came again from the other end of the post road.

Uncle Gen immediately shouted: “Take your knives and go quickly!”

Meng Jianqing caught his short knife and small knife that Uncle Gen threw to him, looked back at Uncle Gen’s dripping wet, aged but wiry body leaping like an ape onto the post road, and couldn’t help but hesitate slightly.

Uncle Gen seemed to have an eye in the back of his head that could see his hesitation and shouted in a low voice: “Go quickly!”

Meng Jianqing hesitated no more and quickly darted into the white reed clumps on the slope below the post road. But he didn’t go far. Calculating that Uncle Gen had already met the newcomers and wouldn’t have time to notice him, he carefully poked his head out from the white reeds again.

He knew why he had to stay behind. Uncle Gen had already recognized him. If Uncle Gen was captured by the Imperial Guard, he had to ensure that this matter would cause no future troubles.

He wanted to enter that much-envied Jiangwu Hall openly and honorably, absolutely not wanting to waste his life in these remote mountains and desolate valleys. He wanted to achieve success and fame, returning home in glory, absolutely not wanting to become a desperate fugitive living in constant fear.

Under the cold moon, five more Imperial Guards came galloping urgently.

Uncle Gen gave a great shout and leaped forward to attack.

If they hadn’t heard it with their ears, those Imperial Guards would hardly have believed that such a wiry body could burst forth with such thunder-like shouting that made their eardrums buzz and golden flowers dance before their eyes.

In this great shout, Uncle Gen’s body seemed to merge with his wood knife as one, spinning rapidly to attack the five Imperial Guards galloping almost in a straight line on the narrow post road.

The Imperial Guard bearing the brunt couldn’t even draw his sword before being knocked off his horse. The second man managed to draw his sword halfway before being sent flying. The third man’s sword was completely drawn but was knocked so that it embedded in his chest. The fourth man blocked one strike but had his right arm severed by the spinning blade light and fell screaming from his horse. The last man saw the danger quickly, flipped and rolled off his saddle, using his mount as cover to block the blade light once before rolling away from the mountain pass corner close to the ground.

Meng Jianqing secretly drew in a cold breath.

What Uncle Gen had used was the true Whirlwind Slash—so unstoppably forward-charging, like a whirlwind howling across the ocean.

Uncle Gen’s momentum was too urgent and fast, almost rushing off the mountain path. He forcibly stopped his blade and turned around. By this time, the Imperial Guard had already run to another mountain pass. But Uncle Gen didn’t swing his knife, letting him escape around the mountain corner.

Meng Jianqing frowned. Had Uncle Gen intentionally let that person escape, or was he unable to continue?

Among the five horses, the last one had died in place of its master, while the other four horses neighed and turned to follow that Imperial Guard in escape. Uncle Gen paid them no mind, turned around, and gave each of the four Imperial Guards who had fallen to the ground a finishing blow. After confirming there were no survivors, he straightened his back and breathed a long sigh of relief.

But before this breath was fully exhaled, his body had already stiffened.

He stood rigidly in place for a moment, then suddenly gave a great shout and leaped into the icy river water below the post road. Moonlight shone coldly on his face, red as fire, with veins on his forehead pulsing rapidly.

Meng Jianqing rushed toward the riverside. Uncle Gen sensed someone approaching and instinctively raised his wood knife, but his shoulder had just lifted when it dropped down again.

Meng Jianqing crouched by the bank and said in a low voice: “It’s me.”

Uncle Gen struggled to open his eyes, recognized him, and his spirit relaxed as his whole person nearly sank into the water.

Meng Jianqing reached out to press the Baihui acupoint at the top of his head, slowly channeling in true qi.

Meng Jianqing knew he should have taken this opportunity to leave this place. The escaped Imperial Guard must have clearly remembered Uncle Gen’s demon-like appearance and would never implicate him. And since Uncle Gen had done such a thing as drawing fire to himself, he had indicated he would never reveal him.

However, Meng Jianqing remained.

Because he already knew who Uncle Gen was.

In this world, only one person could use that kind of Whirlwind Slash—Master Yan Er.

Master Yan Er… Meng Jianqing’s heart was filled with infinite emotion.

What a thunderously famous name this had once been! The Thirteen Slashes were said to be impossible for anyone in the world to receive—unless his two younger brothers Yan Wu and Yan Qi joined forces.

In the Ming Sect where dragons and tigers hid, Elder Yan Er of the Demon-Subduing Hall had laughed proudly at the world for over ten years with this set of Thirteen Slashes—until Hongwu Emperor’s single decree transformed the Bright Sect that had just rendered great assistance into a demonic sect harmful to the Great Ming overnight.

Master Yan Er had cut a bloody path through the encircling armies to escape, and for years no one knew whether he lived or died.

After a moment, Master Yan Er’s condition stabilized slightly. Meng Jianqing withdrew his palm and said in a low voice: “The ones who taught me knife techniques were Master Wu and Master Qi. Their dharma names at Tiantai Temple were Ming Xin and Ming Xing. Both masters passed away by meditation last night.”

Master Yan Er’s body trembled once. The expression on his face seemed both bewildered and relieved. After a long while of melancholy, he murmured: “Good, good. Those two are better off first. Young lad, you must already know who I am, right? Heh, who would have thought that Yan Er, heroic for a lifetime, would die tonight in this nameless little river? Young lad, what’s buried under the east pillar of my broken grass hut, I’ll give to you. If the Thirteen Slashes are used the way you do them, afraid of being stained with opponents’ blood, can they still be called the Thirteen Slashes? You’re just bringing shame to my name, Yan Er!”

The last sentence he spoke with a stern voice and countenance, making Meng Jianqing’s heart shiver.

Master Yan Er shouted again: “Young lad, go quickly. If you have the heart, properly bury me according to custom in the future, and that will count as repaying the Thirteen Slashes that we three brothers taught you!”

Meng Jianqing slowly retreated.

Master Yan Er no longer looked at him, struggled to crawl to the grassy ground by the shore, sat cross-legged, closed his eyes and pressed his palms together, murmuring words.

Meng Jianqing heard again those four verses that made his heart tremble with fear: “The present world is dark, evil demons run rampant; reborn through fire, the next world will be bright.”

Under the moonlight, the flame tattoo on Master Yan Er’s chest was faintly visible, yet slightly different from Xu Qiao’s. The flame on Xu Qiao’s chest had only four flame tips, while Master Yan Er had five.

Meng Jianqing was startled for a moment, then turned and ran away rapidly.

In Master Yan Er’s heart, which had already become clear as a mirror, a question suddenly passed:

For what reason exactly had Centurion Meng’s extraordinary son masked his face to ambush and kill a group of Imperial Guards?

But Master Yan Er immediately let go of this doubt.

Everything was no longer related to him. He had already seen the blazing firelight of the next world.