Hongbin Tower.

In a place like Liaovang City, where three forces were almost evenly matched, and one additional man could hold steady in fourth place — how formidable must that fourth man be?

By early morning, the area outside Hongbin Tower was already ringed three layers deep, four sides thick with people — except for the street itself, the crowds were packed to the point of being impenetrable.

All of Liaovang City’s underground forces knew that the three great powers were meeting today at Hongbin Tower.

This was something that had never happened in all of history. The root cause was a group of guests who had moved into Qingyuan.

The underground forces were all speculating about what kind of background these guests had — that they could cause the three great powers to turn on one another.

From the intelligence gathered by the various factions, it appeared that the Swift Blade Sect and Jingtan had likely already joined forces and were preparing to declare war on Qingyuan.

The tempest that had never existed before in Liaovang City’s history was gradually forming its eye within Hongbin Tower.

The onlookers were all whispering to each other, and every face wore an expression of tension mixed with anticipation.

The first to arrive was, surprisingly, the normally most aloof of all — Jingtan’s people. When Jingtan’s proprietor Li Chunfeng stepped down from the carriage, he glanced back at the crowd surrounding them on all sides, and had only a single thought: it turned out that the most fearless people were those watching the spectacle.

Hongbin Tower’s owner Ma Qingzhi had been waiting at the door all along. Seeing Li Chunfeng arrive, he hurried forward with a welcoming smile.

By rights, Ma Qingzhi was Hongbin Tower’s master — the leader of Liaovang City’s fourth great force — while Li Chunfeng was merely Jingtan’s proprietor, a high-ranking employee. Ma Qingzhi’s standing ought to be on a par with Li Sanzhou. Yet from Ma Qingzhi’s manner it was clear that he held a genuine and particular reverence for Jingtan.

“Master Li,” Ma Qingzhi bowed.

Li Chunfeng steadied him and smiled: “Brother Ma, it has been a long time.”

Ma Qingzhi exchanged a few courtesies, then made a welcoming gesture: “Master Li, please go in first and rest. I will remain here to respectfully await the other honored guests.”

Li Chunfeng said, “I’ll wait here with you.”

Ma Qingzhi was startled.

Jingtan’s proprietor would stand outside to wait for others?

Even if those being waited for were figures of the stature of Dao Chai and Ma Ziwu — when had Jingtan ever shown such face to those figures?

Just as Ma Qingzhi was still somewhat surprised, a large group of people dressed in deep blue arrived, surrounding a carriage.

An imposing procession — by the numbers, at least one or two thousand. The moment they appeared, the people lining both sides of the street fell back, pressing against each other, none willing to draw too close to the street.

“Qingyuan’s people are here.”

Ma Qingzhi looked at Li Chunfeng; Li Chunfeng only made a sound of acknowledgement.

On Ma Ziwu’s side, the numbers and momentum were fully on display. Looking over, a dense mass of people moving down the street — the spectacle was tremendous.

These men in matching blue were all Ma Ziwu’s disciples and disciples’ disciples. Someone had once said that at a single command from Ma Ziwu, ten thousand people in Liaovang City would act on his behalf. Though this was probably an exaggeration, it was not by much.

“The Swift Blade Sect is here!”

From somewhere in the crowd came a soft exclamation.

On the other side of the street, a group of men came striding forward.

In sheer numbers this side was far fewer than Qingyuan — only five or six hundred — but they looked more formidably seasoned.

Six hundred Swift Blade Sect disciples marched forward carrying their blades. They naturally saw the vast procession of Qingyuan on the opposite side, yet every one of their faces carried an expression of contempt.

In their view, Qingyuan’s numbers, however great, were only a show of force. When it came to actual fighting, the Swift Blade Sect’s people had never lost in Liaovang City.

The carriage stopped. Ma Ziwu stepped down with Little Wu’s support — he truly looked ancient now; seven or eight tenths of his hair had gone white, and his back had long since refused to straighten.

Yet the moment he stepped down from the carriage, the people watching on both sides of the street could not help but instinctively bow.

“Our respects to the Old Patriarch!”

Of the watching crowd, six or seven tenths of them bowed in obeisance — and this sort of scene made the spectacle all the more overwhelming.

“Good, good, good,” Ma Ziwu said with a smile, greeting them in return.

On the other side, Swift Blade Dao Chai stepped down from his carriage — this short man nevertheless possessed a powerful presence.

He glanced at Ma Ziwu and said offhandedly, cupping his hands: “Old Ma.”

Ma Ziwu nodded to him: “How did you get shorter again?”

Dao Chai’s expression shifted slightly. Short — that was his most sensitive point, his reverse scale. Had anyone else said it to his face, he would already have ordered the person cut to pieces.

But now, Dao Chai only smiled a thin-lipped, insincere smile and let it pass, then turned and walked toward Hongbin Tower.

Arriving at the door, Dao Chai glanced at Li Chunfeng: “Why are you the one who came — where is your Jingtan owner?”

Li Chunfeng said, “The owner will be here shortly.”

Dao Chai gave a cold grunt: “Still the same sour pedantry — putting on airs.”

He said no more and strode into Hongbin Tower.

As Ma Ziwu passed Li Chunfeng, he gave him a meaningful smile — a complicated smile, seeming at once mocking, helpless, and tinged with something like pity.

After a few steps, Ma Ziwu looked back at Li Chunfeng: “I already said to Li Sanzhou — if he truly needs someone’s help, he should come to me. A pity… he didn’t understand.”

Li Chunfeng smiled: “The owner’s affairs are not something I would dare to presume upon.”

Ma Ziwu paid him no further attention and stepped into Hongbin Tower.

The onlookers were not going to disperse. First, Li Sanzhou had not yet arrived. And second — even if he had, they would not have left. They were here to see what extraordinary things would unfold today inside Hongbin Tower.

Qingyuan.

Qingyuan’s size was not confined to just those several hundred acres — it extended also to the few streets surrounding Qingyuan. To enter those streets was to enter the heart of Ma Ziwu’s domain. The people on those streets were naturally all Ma Ziwu’s disciples and disciples’ disciples.

On one of those streets, a group of black-clad men moved forward at a brisk pace — roughly six or seven hundred of them.

“Jingtan’s people are here!”

Someone cried out — as if a thunderclap had erupted from flat ground.

From both sides of the street, shops of all kinds — whatever they sold — poured people out, carrying an assortment of weapons.

Very quickly, Jingtan’s column was surrounded on all sides.

Someone with sharp eyes spotted Li Sanzhou in the midst of Jingtan’s group. They knew that Old Ma had been deceived, and immediately sent someone running toward Hongbin Tower with the news.

On Jingtan’s side, a robust man who appeared to be in his thirties stepped forward, looked over the people blocking the way, and said in an icy voice, “Either step aside — or we walk over your corpses.”

Someone on the other side began cursing, then pots and pans and all manner of miscellaneous things came flying toward Jingtan’s column.

That middle-aged man drew his long blade with a sharp rasp: “Kill!”

Six or seven hundred of Jingtan’s men drew their long blades and drove forward — the melee began with a suddenness that seemed both startlingly abrupt and utterly inevitable.

But how could those shop people be any match for Jingtan? This Jingtan column was formidably strong in combat.

In less than a quarter of an hour, the street was already strewn with corpses — the vast majority of them Ma Ziwu’s disciples and disciples’ disciples.

At that point, a large surge of blue-clad figures came pouring from the opposite direction — people who had flooded out of Qingyuan, greater in number than Jingtan’s men.

In the crowd watching, Cao Lie saw the Qingyuan forces streaming out like a tide and slipped away.

Shortly after, Cao Lie appeared behind Qingyuan’s rear courtyard. With a brief burst of force, he was airborne — and touched down lightly inside.

Li Chunfeng had managed to obtain Qingyuan’s layout beforehand. Cao Lie had memorized it, the map now etched firmly into his mind.

He knew where the guest quarters were, and where the most dangerous areas lay.

But he had not anticipated that someone would be waiting for him in the back courtyard — and quite a few of them at that.

That was not the critical point. The critical point was that the people waiting for him were the absolute last ones he could have imagined.

He had only just landed in the back courtyard when a net came sweeping at him from the front. Cao Lie’s eyes shifted sharply; the long blade in his hand swept in a single arc, slicing open a gap in the net in a flash of lightning. He drove himself through the gap.

He had not even steadied his footing when a volley of crossbow bolts came screaming at him head-on.

Cao Lie was shocked.

Why would there be such a formidable force in the back courtyard of Qingyuan?!

His long blade spun before him in a single rotation, the blade’s radiance forming a circular barrier of light. Crossbow bolts struck the blade with a rapid clanging of metal, sparks erupting before Cao Lie’s eyes.

“Hold on!” Cao Lie bellowed.

He drove his feet down and burst to one side, shattering the ground beneath him.

His figure flashed and shifted more than a zhang to one side, while the group across from him had already turned to follow his movement — countless crossbows still trained on him.

Cao Lie caught his breath, tilting his head to look at his shoulder — a crossbow bolt had grazed him, leaving a bloody furrow.

In that split second, Cao Lie felt as though he had glimpsed what hell looked like.

Had his reaction been even one-tenth of a breath slower, he would have been dead — killed by a volley of crossbow bolts.

Cao Lie flicked his wrist and dropped his long blade to the ground. He looked at the people across from him and said, “If I were to say right now that this is all a misunderstanding — I don’t know whether you’d believe me.”

Across from him: several hundred Tingwei soldiers.

At the back of their formation, Zhang Tang sat in a chair and looked at this young man who had forced his way alone into Qingyuan’s back courtyard. His eyes narrowed slowly.

He said: “In Liaovang City, there are no misunderstandings.”

Then he slowly raised his hand. The Tingwei Army soldiers leveled their crossbows flat, fingers on the triggers — only waiting for Zhang Tang’s hand to drop, at which point they would loose a storm of bolts.

Cao Lie looked at them. In his heart, he cursed:

…What the hell — when exactly did my luck start turning this rotten?

Hongbin Tower.

Ma Ziwu sat with his eyes closed, resting. Little Wu stood behind him, close at hand.

On the other side, Dao Chai sat cross-legged in a chair with his blade, saying nothing — only looking at Li Chunfeng with a cold smile.

Because Li Sanzhou had still not arrived, Jingtan had become the party with the least goodwill to show.

After a long while, Ma Ziwu slowly opened his eyes: “Since Li Sanzhou thinks so little of us, I will not press my warm face against his cold rear. Little Wu — help me up.”

Little Wu bowed and moved to support Ma Ziwu to his feet.

Just at that moment, someone outside Hongbin Tower cried out at the top of his voice: “Old Patriarch, be careful! Li Sanzhou has led men to attack Qingyuan! Witnessed with my own eyes — Li Sanzhou brought Jingtan’s forces and has gone to attack Qingyuan!”

Ma Ziwu’s expression changed sharply.

Little Wu immediately took him by the arm and moved toward the door. In that same instant, Dao Chai sprang up from his chair.

“You are not leaving!”

A blade stroke launched from midair — one that could sever mountains and rivers.

This blade stroke — no second person in Liaovang City could have produced it. This blade stroke — there was probably no one in Liaovang City who should have been able to receive it.

Clang!

Little Wu had blocked it.

In the instant Dao Chai launched himself skyward, Little Wu’s left hand shoved Ma Ziwu aside while his right hand drew the blade from behind him. In the next breath, a half-moon shaped torrent of blade light poured out and squarely met Dao Chai’s unrivaled stroke.

With the clang came an instantaneous draining of color from Little Wu’s face. The back of his right hand, where it gripped the blade, split open. Beneath his feet, the floorboards were shattered.

Dao Chai, too, was shaken by the rebounding force of that parry, his right arm going numb, his expression changing involuntarily.

All these years — who in Liaovang City had been able to meet his blade head-on?

In that very instant, a cabinet nearby shattered, and a figure stepped out from within it. Moving past Little Wu to stand before Ma Ziwu, a palm drove straight at Ma Ziwu’s chest.

In this instant, Little Wu’s eyes flew wide open. Ma Ziwu’s eyes flew wide open.

Li Sanzhou!