Lin Sui’an had great confidence in Jin Ruo.

Jin Ruo was a disciple she had trained personally, with nothing but grueling strength conditioning for a full three months, followed by multiple personal demonstrations imparting the essence of the Ten Purities Blade technique, supplemented by real combat practice. The results of her teaching were remarkable.

At this point, Jin Ruo’s command of the Ten Purities Collection’s forms was highly polished. There was only one small issue: the transitions between different forms were not yet fluid enough — there was an occasional roughness where one technique ended and another began.

That was not a matter of practice alone. It required a large volume of real combat experience to smooth out.

And of course, there was one technique Jin Ruo had not yet mastered — the secret art of the Ten Purities Collection: Shattering Stillness.

The fundamental principles of Shattering Stillness had long since been explained to Jin Ruo by Lin Sui’an. But the prerequisite was possessing the same impossible dynamic visual acuity, instantaneous learning and imitation ability, strength, and speed that Lin Sui’an herself had — which, for an ordinary person, was very nearly unattainable.

Lin Sui’an felt this was no great concern. With Jin Ruo’s current level of ability, unless he encountered a first-rate expert on the level of Yun Zhong Yue, he could take on ordinary second- or third-tier martial world figures at will.

The real question now was: what was Bai Shan’s true level of ability?

Jin Ruo seemed to take this confrontation seriously. His expression tightened as he drew Ruojing and held it across his chest in a solid opening stance. Bai Shan’s eyes deepened. Both hands pulled his twin blades from his back, crossing them over his chest in a matching opening stance.

The air was humid and heavy, without the slightest breath of wind. A single drop of sweat slid from Jin Ruo’s forehead.

The two of them moved simultaneously — like two arrows loosed from the same bow, shooting toward one another. Their first strikes were both pure-power cleaving attacks.

Bai Shan swung his twin blades in a horizontal sweep. Jin Ruo countered with a technique from the collection called Blade-Raft Cuts Sorrow — the move rang out twice as it deflected both blades, then thrust forward into three consecutive heavy hacks. Bai Shan was the weaker of the two in raw power; his left and right blades traded off in defense as he retreated four full steps. With a sudden shout, he dropped his stance and fell to one knee, using his knees as footing and spinning in a low, tight revolution, driving both blades in a reverse-edge sweep aimed at Jin Ruo’s leg bones.

This was precisely Jin Ruo’s strong suit. Jin Ruo leapt upward and cleared the blade edge, launching a ground-skimming sweeping attack of his own — faster, with a more vicious angle. It looked set to slice straight through Bai Shan’s knees, but Bai Shan’s feet shot backwards in a sudden backward spring, and his body thrust forward in the opposite direction, straight as a spear aimed at Jin Ruo’s face. The posture and force behind the move were deeply counter-intuitive. Jin Ruo was alarmed and pulled his blade back in defense — only to find Bai Shan changing the move mid-course: left blade winding inward, right blade winding outward, and then — a sharp ring — the twin blades locked onto Ruojing in a bind.

Jin Ruo’s eyes flashed. His left hand drew the dagger from his boot and drove it toward Bai Shan’s eyes. If Bai Shan didn’t yield, both eyes would be destroyed. He was forced to release Qian Jing. His left blade swept upward along the natural line — there was a hiss, and two arcs of blood flew at nearly the same instant: a cut opened on Jin Ruo’s cheek, and Bai Shan’s brow drew red.

In the next moment, Bai Shan’s twin blades spun into whirling blade-flowers, like two high-speed fans driving at Jin Ruo. The blade wind was frigid, slicing through the air with ferocious force — the Twin-Wind Blades, living up to their name. Jin Ruo’s toes touched down and his speed surged suddenly. He ran the footwork called Wind-Shaking Autumn Leaves to its limit, and shifted his hand techniques to a sequence of clever, economical moves called Awaiting-the-Cut-Like-Livestock. His entire body became a whirlwind, shifting positions and entangling with Bai Shan in close combat.

Three blades — two black, one white — clashed in rapid-fire succession, showering sparks and ringing out in a continuous metallic clamor.

The observers below were wide-eyed with awe. The two fought at such speed that individual movements were nearly impossible to follow, and it was impossible to tell who held the advantage. Only Lin Sui’an watched with perfect clarity: the two were almost evenly matched.

Jin Ruo had the superior footwork and the greater strength, but his combat experience was thin and his ability to adapt on the fly was not yet sharp enough. Several near-dangerous moments were escaped only thanks to his exceptional agility. Bai Shan, by contrast, was a seasoned veteran — his techniques were honed and deliberate, attack and defense orderly and measured. He looked to have the upper hand throughout, yet what he likely had not noticed himself was that with each exchange against Jin Ruo, his speed dropped by a fraction. Gradually, his attacking moves grew fewer and his defensive moves more numerous.

Lin Sui’an was quietly pleased: it seemed the three months of endurance training had not been wasted. Jin Ruo’s stamina far outstripped Bai Shan’s. Under this sustained high-speed engagement, Bai Shan would not last long. Jin Ruo only needed to hold his rhythm and keep pressing — once the opponent’s strength was exhausted and his guard began to slip, naturally—

But at that very moment, Jin Ruo suddenly spoke. “The Yidu Pure Gate currently has three hundred and forty-six halls and branch points in total, with nine hundred and sixty-nine disciples, twelve hall masters, stationed across fifty-six wards of Yidu City. Am I wrong?”

Bai Shan’s blade momentum faltered. “What?”

Jin Ruo deflected with a reverse-draw slash — Ruojing and the twin blades scraped edge to edge with a piercing metallic wail. “But one year ago, the Yidu Pure Gate had five hundred and twenty-six halls, nearly two thousand disciples, and twenty-three hall masters. Which means that both hall count and headcount have been reduced by nearly half. Am I right?”

Bai Shan’s fury erupted. “Did you come here to humiliate the Yidu Pure Gate?!”

In the span of that sentence, the twin blades went berserk — seven consecutive heavy-handed killing strikes, all wide-open and aggressive. Jin Ruo’s footwork flew through Wind-Shaking Autumn Leaves at full force, his whole figure like a nimble hummingbird tossed and dipping in the howling blade-wind. His mouth, however, turned into a bee — buzzing on the left, buzzing on the right, circling Bai Shan at great speed.

“The southern fifth and southern fourth districts were once where Pure Gate halls were most densely concentrated. The Brocade River Night Market used to be Pure Gate territory as well — but as other sects gradually expanded, the Pure Gate’s ground was eaten away step by step.”

“The inner city around the West Market became the territory of the Duck Lane Sect and the Fragrant Verse Sect. The Brocade River Night Market and the South Market were carved up by the Five Mounds Alliance and the Ascend to Immortal Sect. The three major halls in the East Market also ended up in the hands of Yellow Nine’s organization.”

“The Pure Gate has now been pushed back to north of the Jade River. The North Market and Brocade Mile Night Market are hanging by a thread. Besides the Laoshu Ward branch hall, the Brocade Mile hall is the last — and largest — hall the Pure Gate still holds.”

“The Ascend to Immortal Sect and Yellow Nine’s organization have had their eyes on this territory for a long time. In the past six months there have been repeated acts of provocation, and every time, Pure Gate disciples have suffered casualties. At this rate, losing the Brocade Mile hall is only a matter of time.”

“When that happens, the Pure Gate will be left with only the two ward territories of the eastern second and eastern fourth districts. Both are unaffiliated residential zones with no large bazaars or night markets to sustain the livelihoods of Pure Gate disciples who work as street vendors. Even the Pure Gate’s proudest asset — its intelligence network — will be severed.”

“At that point, the Yidu Pure Gate will exist in name only!”

Bai Shan’s face went white and then green. His blade form grew increasingly erratic. “Shut your mouth! You know nothing and yet you dare to spout nonsense — you—”

“I know perfectly well!” Jin Ruo tossed aside the dagger in his left hand, gripped the blade hilt with both hands, and drove back with a series of overhead cleaving blows — each one ringing through the air with a thunderous crack — pressing forward with every strike. “Among the fifteen martial sects in Yidu City, fourteen have world-class families bankrolling them. With money, they poach people from the Pure Gate — the skilled fighters, the capable, the well-connected — and gradually they all left.”

Bai Shan: “Those are traitors who betrayed the Pure Gate — who stamped their vows of entry underfoot and ground loyalty into the mud!”

Jin Ruo let out a cold laugh. He suddenly poured on more power, forcing the twin blades back several steps, pressing the attack harder than ever, his words spilling out as fast as his blows. “Loyalty be damned! How much is loyalty worth? Pure Gate brothers are people too. People need to eat, wear clothes, sleep somewhere warm. People have family and friends. Food costs money, clothes cost money, supporting a family costs money. For them, it doesn’t matter which sect they belong to — what matters is which one can earn them a living. When the Pure Gate couldn’t earn them a living, they left. It was the same with the Yangdu Pure Gate in the past, and the same with the Eastern Capital Pure Gate. Where does Elder Bai find the confidence to think Yidu’s Pure Gate will be any different?”

Bai Shan wanted to argue but had no words. He was choking on it — his face cycling through green and red. For a martial artist, every technique and every stance is a reflection of one’s inner state. His mind was in chaos, and his blade form fell apart accordingly. What had been an even match just moments ago now became a completely one-sided pummeling. Cuts opened on Bai Shan’s cheek, neck, and arms — the bright red blood flew out and stained his eyes red.

Jin Ruo’s voice grew heavier. “Hall Master Gan is far-sighted and clear-headed. Knowing that the Yidu Pure Gate would surely come to a wretched end if things continued as they were, she racked her brains and finally found a way to keep the Pure Gate alive — and you, a bunch of short-sighted fools, are tearing each other apart over something as trivial as face and pride. It is laughable, it is deplorable, it is infuriating, and it is pitiable all at once!”

“Shut your mouth!” Bai Shan, incensed beyond control, seized the moment when Jin Ruo drove down with a vertical cleave, and opened both blades in a scissors formation. From a narrow, treacherous angle, he caught Ruojing in a lock — the veins in his neck standing out like cords, bearing down on three blades as he drove toward Jin Ruo with the force of his entire frame. The effort was so great that his whole body posture warped out of shape.

Lin Sui’an was taken aback. Bai Shan had been rattled into using a disastrous move. What was this even supposed to be — some kind of stumbling, off-balance forward rush?

Jin Ruo’s eyes flashed. Without hesitation, he simply let go of Ruojing’s hilt. Both feet hit the ground and he vaulted upward in a flip, appearing behind Bai Shan in an instant. From mid-air he spun out a kick that connected squarely with Bai Shan’s rear end, and bellowed: “Shattering Stillness!”

Bai Shan lurched violently off balance and was launched forward — the kick had completely scrambled him, and as he flew, his twin blades were still instinctively braced against Ruojing. The tremendous momentum caused his neck to drop straight toward Ruojing’s razor-sharp edge. He was about to impale himself, and with only a fraction of a second to spare, someone seized him from behind by the waistband. Bai Shan stopped — half an inch from death.

It was Jin Ruo who had saved him.

Blood trickled from the corner of Bai Shan’s mouth. Both blades fell from his hands, and all three blades hit the ground together with a heavy crash.

Jin Ruo released Bai Shan’s waistband and flicked Ruojing upward with his toe, catching it in hand.

The two of them stood back to back. Neither spoke. No one in the courtyard spoke. Everyone had been struck speechless by the fight.

What shocked Gan Hongying was that Jin Ruo had only been in Yidu for two days, and yet he understood the situation of the Yidu Pure Gate so thoroughly — worthy indeed of being the designated successor chosen by the former Gate Master. His grasp of the whole picture and his ability to analyze information were second to none in the entire Pure Gate.

What had stunned the four elders was the last move Jin Ruo had used — the lost secret technique of the Ten Purities Collection that had been missing for years: Shattering Stillness.

Dongmen Wen: “Did everyone see that clearly?”

Gao Han: “It seemed… like just a casual move.”

Shen Xiang: “No, that was far from as simple as it looked.”

Bai Shan pressed a hand to his rear end, limped back to his seat, his expression beyond description.

They hadn’t understood what they saw. Lin Sui’an had.She nearly wanted to rise to her feet and applaud.

That move of Jin Ruo’s was the real, genuine article: Shattering Stillness.

The fundamental, underlying logic of Shattering Stillness was the search for the enemy’s opening.

Lin Sui’an’s method of finding openings was to use her terror of a learning ability to copy the opponent’s techniques and patterns — an approach with two layers of attack power: the first, creating a devastating psychological pressure on the enemy; the second, through mimicry, calculating the rhythm of the opponent’s attacks and anticipating the opponent’s anticipation, for a single decisive blow.

Jin Ruo’s approach was something different altogether — an information gap.

He used the Pure Gate’s vast intelligence network to gather information about the enemy, then organized, consolidated, and analyzed it, pinpointing the opponent’s psychological weaknesses. During a confrontation, he would target those weaknesses with an overwhelming verbal assault, and when the enemy’s mind had descended into total disorder, he would seize the gap and strike a single decisive blow.

The Pure Gate’s intelligence network was not yet fully developed, and yet even now the effect was already like this. When in the future all of the Pure Gate’s branch halls across the nation were under Jin Ruo’s leadership — as Hua Yitang had said — anyone who caught the Pure Gate’s attention would become transparent as glass. By that time, Jin Ruo’s Shattering Stillness might very well become an invincible force.

In a word: Jin Ruo’s Shattering Stillness and her own were worlds apart in method, yet identical in essence — which was to say, equally shameless.

“My disciple truly does me proud,” Lin Sui’an said, giving a thumbs-up. “He truly has his master’s spirit.”

“It is the master who taught well,” Jin Ruo replied, raising an eyebrow toward the assembled people of the Yidu branch hall. “Are you all convinced now?”

Gan Hongying steadied herself and looked around. “Four Elders — what is your verdict?”

Shen Xiang, Gao Han, and Bai Shan exchanged glances, then all turned their eyes to Great Elder Dongmen Wen.

Dongmen Wen was silent for a moment, then clasped his hands and bowed with great solemnity. “Junior Gate Master, this old one has a question to ask.”

Jin Ruo: “Elder Dongmen, please speak.”

“Where do you intend to lead the Pure Gate?”

Jin Ruo turned his wrist, and Ruojing rang as it was sheathed. He revealed a wide, white-toothed grin. “I want to make sure every brother and sister in the Pure Gate eats well, drinks well, sleeps in a proper house, and lives a good and happy life every single day!”

Jin Ruo’s smile was not particularly dashing, not particularly beautiful — but it always radiated an earnest, warm-blooded sincerity.

The eyes of everyone in the Yidu Pure Gate flickered at once. Together, they clasped their hands in salute.

“From this day forward, the entire Yidu branch hall of the Pure Gate will follow Gate Master Jin’s lead without question.”

Truthfully, Lin Sui’an rather enjoyed dealing with the people of the Yidu Pure Gate. They were all straight-shooters: if something bothered them, they overturned the table right there on the spot; if they were unconvinced, they said so; if they couldn’t win an argument, they fought; if they lost the fight, they yielded. No convoluted games, no hidden agendas. Very much her kind of people.

With the lively brawl behind them, everyone sat back down to talk, and the atmosphere relaxed considerably. It truly lived up to the saying: no fight, no friendship.

Dongmen Wen: “Was the final technique just now the Shattering Stillness from the Ten Purities Collection?”

Jin Ruo: “It was.”

“We had heard that within the Pure Gate, only Lin Niangzi had mastered Shattering Stillness. Did the Junior Gate Master also learn it from Lin Niangzi?”

“That’s right.”

Gao Han: “So this so-called Shattering Stillness is just… kicking someone in the backside when they’re not looking?”

Lin Sui’an and Jin Ruo both burst out laughing at the same moment.

Jin Ruo: “Not quite.”

Lin Sui’an: “Shattering Stillness is a finishing technique used in real combat — it moves with the heart and is released with the will. From beginning to end, it has no fixed form. Every use in every battle is different from the last. In fact, my Shattering Stillness and Jin Ruo’s are different from each other.”

Jin Ruo: “Master says this is called: no fixed form surpasses all forms. It can be felt but not put into words.”

Everyone nodded in dawning comprehension. “Truly profound.”

Lin Sui’an laughed to herself inwardly: All this mystifying talk is an indispensable part of Shattering Stillness as well. The more it spreads as something shrouded in legend, the greater its psychological impact on enemies.

Bai Shan: “May I be so bold as to ask — if the Junior Gate Master were to face Lin Niangzi, what would his chances be?”

Jin Ruo’s face twitched slightly. “Within ten exchanges, I would certainly lose.”

Gao Han: “What about Brother Azure Dragon over there?”

The four members of the Azure Dragon group sat in a knowing silence for a considerable moment.

Azure Dragon: “All four. Together.”

Vermilion Bird: “At most, fifty exchanges.”

White Tiger: “Get badly thrashed.”

Black Tortoise: “Almost died.”

Gao Han drew in a sharp breath.

Bai Shan’s eyes brightened. “Would Lin Niangzi honor me with the opportunity to exchange a few moves?”

Cold sweat broke out on Lin Sui’an’s hands. She waved them vigorously. “Let’s make a plan for another time.”

From the look on Elder Bai’s face, he was likely a fighting fanatic. If she agreed, there would be no end to the sparring invitations.

Bai Shan’s expression fell with disappointment. Gan Hongying quickly stepped in to smooth things over. “Junior Gate Master yesterday asked me to look into the case of Lian Xiaoshuang. And now you’ve come calling today — is there something more you need us to investigate?”

Lin Sui’an let out a breath of relief — at last, they could get to the actual matter at hand. Half the day had been burned up on fighting. “To be frank, there are two things. The first: I want to ask about the Peach Blossom Killer, five years ago—”

“Hall Master, something terrible has happened!” The Pure Gate disciple who had been selling savory pastries earlier came rushing in. “Our Brocade Mile hall has been jumped by the Ascend to Immortal Sect!”

Everyone’s expression changed in an instant. Jin Ruo’s jaw nearly hit the floor.

A vein throbbed at Lin Sui’an’s temple: Will this ever end?!

The Brocade Mile hall was called a hall, but was in practice an entire long street. Every night after the North Market closed, the Brocade Mile Night Market became the liveliest spot in the northwestern section of Yidu City — naturally a piece of territory all major sects fought over. It was located in the Nanzhao Ward of the western second district, with the North Market to the west and the Great Mystery Gate to the north. The distance from the branch hall was neither close nor far, but getting there on foot alone would certainly take too long.

Lin Sui’an had assumed they would at least be riding horses or taking a carriage — but the poverty of the Yidu branch hall exceeded her wildest imagination. Their only available mode of transport was: donkeys.

And these few gaunt donkeys were exclusive to elders and above. Low-ranking disciples had no choice but to run behind the donkeys’ backsides.

And so it was that the Master of Qian Jing, renowned across three great capitals, found herself mounted on a small black donkey with long ears, galloping wildly through four districts and eight wards, smoke rising from its hindquarters, until she finally arrived at the Brocade Mile hall.

She looked ahead to a press of heads and a roar of voices: ordinary people had been held back outside Brocade Mile Street, crowding together in animated discussion. Down both sides of the long street stood the tall lamp poles that were the night market’s trademark, hung with multicolored banners and pennants.

At the mouth of the street, two factions stood in standoff. The side closer to the inner street was dressed in ordinary commoner clothing — men and women, old and young, of every height and build. Some wore aprons, some had flour on their faces. Their weapons were of every conceivable variety: cleavers, ladles, whet stones, scissors, mallets, hammers, spades, carrying poles, bamboo steamers, pot lids, steaming tea kettles, freshly opened jars of wine, and a beggar’s walking stick.

The other side looked considerably more organized: matching yellow-and-black long robes, hair drawn up into high buns fastened with silver pins, long swords at their sides. All were young and vigorous men, positioned in an arrangement that carried a particular deliberate pattern to it. At the rear, anchoring the formation, was a black wooden carriage. The horse pulling it had a coat of glossy, deep black — like a black pearl.

Then, from inside the carriage came a sharp, commanding shout: “Charge!”

The swords of the Ascend to Immortal Sect disciples erupted in killing cries, and sword light cascaded in layer upon layer of pale white waves surging toward Brocade Mile Street.

Better late than never, one might say.

In the blink of an eye, Lin Sui’an’s palm cracked down against the donkey’s head. She launched herself off the ground, flew over the heads of the onlooking crowd, and used the lamp poles in alternating steps to propel herself forward. Her left hand seized a pennant — she swung on it and shot into Brocade Mile Street. Her right wrist snapped, and Qian Jing came out of its sheath: a dark green blade-light tore the overcast sky like a crack of lightning, like a thunderbolt slashing into the line of sword-bearing disciples. In an instant, eight of them spat blood and were sent flying sideways.

Lin Sui’an descended with her robes billowing. The moment her toes grazed the ground, her body surged forward. She ran the footwork of Wind-Shaking Autumn Leaves — a lightning-quick, shifting style — unleashed her wide-range attack formation: left hand slamming, swinging, and bludgeoning with the scabbard; right hand cleaving, sweeping, and thrusting with Qian Jing; occasionally throwing in two clean, elegant blade flourishes. Person, blade, and sheath moved as one. It swept through the crowd like a tidal surge — sending more than thirty sword disciples flying in all directions. The remaining disciples turned pale with terror and screamed and scrambled to retreat.

In a matter of moments, a wide clearing had been swept open in front of Brocade Mile Street.

Lin Sui’an stood straight at the mouth of the street. Both wrists flicked — shaking the blood from the blade and scabbard. Beneath her feet lay the scattered remnants of the fight: splotches of dark blood, broken teeth, and fractured swords. The wind blew a few blood-tipped strands of hair across her forehead — someone else’s blood.

The entire street fell into a silence like death. The Pure Gate disciples of the Brocade Mile hall, Gan Hongying’s group, and the onlooking citizens were all terrified into blankness. The sword disciples who had faced Lin Sui’an’s killing intent had their courage utterly shattered — some had even wet themselves where they stood — and shrank back, trembling, toward the carriage. One of the disciples let out a shriek: “What — what — what — what ARE you?! Are you human, or are you a — a — a ghost?!”

Lin Sui’an bared her teeth in a grin. “Broad daylight, clear sky, bright sun — where would a ghost come from?!”

“Then — then — then — who ARE you?!”

“Master of Qian Jing. Lin Sui’an.”

The answer did not come from Lin Sui’an. It came from inside the carriage — a voice so weak it sounded like a weed on the verge of dying, yet it raised the hairs on Lin Sui’an’s entire body.

She remembered it. She had heard this voice — in the golden finger memories she had received after Hao Liu’s death. It belonged to the person called “Seventh Lord.”

Oh, an unexpected windfall today as well.

Lin Sui’an gave a cold laugh, instantly gripped the hilt with both hands, leapt, and drove Qian Jing down toward the carriage in a powerful arc. The sword disciples around it shrieked and scattered. The cold blade-light rippled past the carriage like a wave, and with a crack, the entire carriage split cleanly down the middle and fell to either side.

Inside the carriage sat two people, both completely unharmed. One was covered almost entirely by an oversized black veil hat. The other was dressed in fine brocade robes, a jade hairpin through his topknot, with striking, clear-cut features. He held his neck stiffly upright like a self-admiring egret — though his current composure was anything but dignified: his complexion was white-green, his whole body was shaking violently, and he pointed at Lin Sui’an and shrieked, “Lin Sui’an, you vicious woman! Why do you keep ruining everything for me?!”

Lin Sui’an shouldered Qian Jing and burst out laughing. “Su Yiyun — it’s been a while. You’re still alive, are you?”

Side Story:

Jin Ruo: Did you see that? That’s the Master of Qian Jing. My master! Impressive, right?!

People of the Yidu branch hall: Holy — holy — holy — holy — HOLY—