Neither side knew just how strong the other’s hand truly was — and so Yan Beicheng appeared at the entrance of Songhe Tower.

There was no time to probe the opponent’s cards with small ones, so a large card like Yan Beicheng was played directly.

Use one large card to force out the opponent’s large card — and in doing so, draw out all the people that Li Chi had positioned along this main street.

Jin Mantang had been killed. Yan Beicheng walked a few more steps forward. From where he had begun to where the front door of Songhe Tower stood was only fifty-two steps — and he had already walked ten.

For a master of his caliber, fifty-two steps was no great distance at all. And yet it was precisely because he was such a master that he had managed to walk ten steps.

Yan Beicheng looked again at the front door of Songhe Tower. His brow furrowed.

A young man stood at the entrance with a sword cradled in his arms, having stepped out only slightly later than Jin Mantang.

Yan Beicheng had watched clearly how he had killed Jin Mantang — and yet this young man had not moved to help.

This seemed extraordinarily cold, with not even a thread of human warmth about it — cold and ruthless.

After Jin Mantang fell, this sword-carrying young man finally walked out from the front doors of Songhe Tower and came toward Yan Beicheng.

Yan Beicheng no longer continued to advance. When facing a formidable opponent, every step is an opening — he did not think himself incapable, it was simply the proper attitude to have.

The sword-bearing figure who stepped out was Cen Xiaoxiao.

“Do you plan to come out one by one?”

Yan Beicheng looked Cen Xiaoxiao up and down. Against such a young opponent, something in Yan Beicheng’s heart eased somewhat.

Cen Xiaoxiao said nothing, only watched Yan Beicheng.

Yan Beicheng asked again: “If you won’t strike, what are you waiting for?”

Cen Xiaoxiao still said nothing.

Yan Beicheng said: “Then I suppose I’ll have to go first.”

When Jin Mantang had come out earlier, Yan Beicheng had also stayed still — not out of respect for his opponent, but out of respect for his own life.

Now this young man was saying nothing and making no move — and Yan Beicheng didn’t have that much time to spare. So he, who was accustomed to counter-striking, had no choice but to strike first.

Yet the very instant he stepped forward, Cen Xiaoxiao turned and walked away.

This left Yan Beicheng utterly stunned. When that young man turned to leave, he hadn’t even bothered to guard the wide-open vulnerabilities on his own back.

If he hadn’t suspected it was intentional, Yan Beicheng would have struck the moment Cen Xiaoxiao turned away.

But Cen Xiaoxiao truly left — turning and heading toward the rear of Songhe Tower.

“You can’t escape.”

Yan Beicheng snapped his long whip. The blade tied to the tip swept toward the back of Cen Xiaoxiao’s neck.

This whip was a zhang and a half in length; the flick of his wrist imparted a driving force to the whip, and the crack of the whip amplified that force by more than double.

Cen Xiaoxiao’s long sword remained in its sheath. In an utterly relaxed motion, he reached his hand behind his back, and the sword spun once in his palm.

Clang. The spinning scabbard deflected the blade at the whip’s tip.

When one looked again, Cen Xiaoxiao had already lightly touched off the ground and swept toward the back of Songhe Tower.

“There’s no need for you to chase him — do you think Songhe Tower has no one left to keep you company?”

Songhe Tower’s manager, Duan Jishi, moved toward Yan Beicheng: “The one you should be facing is me.”

Yan Beicheng burst forward with force, launching himself into the air, and lashed his whip backward — the whip swept toward Duan Jishi’s throat.

Duan Jishi actually raised his hand and reached directly for the tip of the whip, utterly unconcerned with the blade at its end.

Crack. The long whip was genuinely caught in his grip.

With the whip tip gripped in one hand, Duan Jishi pulled backward, pressed his elbow down onto the whip, then rotated his arm in a twist and a lift — and forcibly yanked Yan Beicheng back toward him.

Yan Beicheng was clearly angered. He spun on his heels and surged with force, flying back like a kite reeled in by Duan Jishi — yet a hundred times faster than any kite, arriving before Duan Jishi in an instant.

This time he pointed two fingers toward Duan Jishi’s chest. Duan Jishi’s left hand came up to block — and those two fingers landed square in the center of his palm.

Not long before, Jin Mantang’s palm had been pierced through with a bloody hole in exactly this same manner by Yan Beicheng.

Yet this time Yan Beicheng did not succeed. In fact, the force rebounding through his fingers gave him quite a shock.

Looking more carefully, he noticed that both of Duan Jishi’s hands were encased in special gloves. They appeared to be made of cloth, yet the faint metallic sheen showing through was more than enough proof of their toughness.

“I told you — your opponent is me.”

Duan Jishi hurled a fist at Yan Beicheng’s throat. Yan Beicheng pushed off the ground and retreated, simultaneously swinging his long whip up to wrap around Duan Jishi’s neck.

Duan Jishi still reached out without any hesitation to grab the whip — yet just as he was about to seize it, the whip gave a sudden twitch, and the tip snapped with a sharp, ringing crack.

Crack!

The blade bound to the tip of the whip struck the center of Duan Jishi’s palm squarely, sparking a shower of fire.

Duan Jishi’s brow creased. He suddenly bent low and grabbed a flagstone from the ground. The stone was thick and heavy — easily a hundred jin — yet he lifted it as lightly as if it were a wooden plank.

Seeing that Yan Beicheng was moving to pursue Cen Xiaoxiao, Duan Jishi hurled the stone at Yan Beicheng.

Yan Beicheng spun back and lashed the whip, the tip snapping out and striking the stone with a crack — and the stone was smashed apart.

But in that very instant, Duan Jishi’s hand reached out from behind the shattered stone and seized the whip.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Duan Jishi surged again and yanked backward.

Yan Beicheng — released the whip. The long whip was ripped away into Duan Jishi’s grasp.

The sudden release of tension sent Duan Jishi’s body involuntarily tilting backward.

Yan Beicheng kicked off a tree at the roadside, and his body spiraled back toward Duan Jishi like a whirlwind.

This time his two extended fingers aimed for Duan Jishi’s eyes.

Duan Jishi was still tilting backward, not yet recovered — in desperation, as if on instinct, he raised his hand to grab at Yan Beicheng’s hand — yet at the last instant deliberately let go.

And so Yan Beicheng’s fingers landed on Duan Jishi’s left eye. It seemed like the lightest of touches, yet the eyeball burst in an instant, and a surge of blood shot from the socket.

At the same moment, Duan Jishi’s fist crashed into Yan Beicheng’s chest.

A searing pain in his chest sent Yan Beicheng flying backward; blood streamed from Duan Jishi’s empty eye socket. The two separated briefly.

“Troublesome.”

Yan Beicheng raised a hand to wipe blood from the corner of his mouth. That punch had struck hard; even with an immediate reaction, he had still taken damage.

He bent down to retrieve the long whip, but there was no way Duan Jishi would give him that time — immediately stepping forward, both fists thrusting out like a striking bell aimed at Yan Beicheng’s head.

Yet Yan Beicheng hadn’t actually been going for the whip.

The instant he bent down, his left hand struck the pommel of the scabbard on his back, and the long sword shot forward like an arrow.

His right hand reached forward and seized the hilt. The sword completed half a revolution before him, and a flash of cold light rose — a clear arc of luminance appeared in the space between the two men.

Just like the curve of a silver moon.

The trace left by the sword.

The long sword swept half a revolution at a speed beyond description, and then Yan Beicheng flicked his wrist and reversed the sword — sending it precisely back into the scabbard on his back.

To the eye, it seemed he had merely bent down, and by the time he stood upright again, the sword was back in its sheath — yet a line of red had appeared on Duan Jishi’s neck.

All in one fluid breath, taking less than a third of an instant.

Inside the tower, Cao Lie’s eyes flew open wide.

He truly had not expected it — even Duan Jishi could not stop Yan Beicheng.

The red line across Duan Jishi’s neck suddenly burst open. Blood gushed forth and he toppled forward.

At that very moment, from the rear of the tower, Cen Xiaoxiao vaulted back in — and behind him, the six or seven assassins who had been closing in on Songhe Tower’s back door had all been struck down by him.

He returned in that instant, just in time to see Yan Beicheng kill Duan Jishi.

And in that very same instant, a dark shadow swept past behind Cen Xiaoxiao and smashed directly through the rear window into Songhe Tower.

Every one of them was genuinely ruthless.

This dark shadow had been lying in wait not far away, watching as his six or seven companions were cut down by Cen Xiaoxiao — and simply watched.

The moment Cen Xiaoxiao turned and charged toward Yan Beicheng, this person knew the opportunity had come.

Songhe Tower had no more top fighters left!

If there had been, Cen Xiaoxiao — who had originally moved to block Yan Beicheng — would not have suddenly turned toward the rear of the tower.

The figure who came crashing through the rear window was Helian Xia.

The instant he burst through the window, hidden projectiles were already flying toward Cao Lie.

Cao Lie sat there without rising. The Jingzhe Blade rested on the table.

Cao Lie reached out, gripped the handle, and drew the Jingzhe Blade. In a flash of steel, sparks scattered everywhere — several projectiles were cut down with a single slash.

“Capture you, and Prince Ning will fall into line!”

Helian Xia came charging forward, drawing a long saber from his back, gripping the hilt with both hands and bringing it down in a powerful chop.

Cao Lie pushed off the ground — the stool slid out to the side beneath him, and the saber fell just short of him.

Crack. The precious huanghuali wood table was cleaved straight in two.

Helian Xia’s first slash missed. The second came immediately after — sweeping across Cao Lie’s throat. But Cao Lie’s Jingzhe Blade was already raised upright before him…

Clang!

Helian Xia’s blade struck the Jingzhe Blade — and his saber snapped in two. Half the blade went spinning away and lodged with a thunk into a pillar.

At this, the color immediately drained from Helian Xia’s face.

Cao Lie shot to his feet, slashing his blade from low to high in a sweeping arc that left a brilliant trail of steel-white light.

Boom…

The ceiling suddenly collapsed.

Countless shattered tiles and timber fell crashing down. Cao Lie saw that among them were several dark figures falling swiftly — he had no choice but to retreat temporarily.

Amid the clattering din, those dark figures dropped to the floor and could not rise. When Cao Lie looked more carefully, he recognized them as his own men.

These people had been stationed on the roof of Songhe Tower as sentries — and now they were corpses.

He stood momentarily dazed, and in that instant a white blur suddenly appeared before his eyes.

Fast as a flash of lightning, nothing could compare.

In the next breath, Cao Lie felt a searing pain in his chest, and then was sent flying backward. His Jingzhe Blade was torn from his grasp.

Cao Lie hit the ground hard, blood already seeping from the corner of his mouth.

He looked instinctively at his own hands. Both palms had been scraped open — he had gripped the blade so tightly that when someone ripped it away at speed, the hilt had sheared away a layer of skin.

In Songhe Tower, the master of the Sacred Blade Sect, clad in a long robe the color of moonlight, stood looking down at the Jingzhe Blade in his hand — apparently having no interest in Cao Lie whatsoever.

“Good.”

After a moment, the Sect Master said a single word.

He gripped Cao Lie’s Jingzhe Blade, a measure of satisfaction in his eyes.

Helian Xia, seeing a person he didn’t recognize suddenly appear, unsure of friend or foe, shouted at the Sect Master: “Get out of the way!”

The Sect Master glanced at him mildly, then looked back at the Jingzhe Blade.

“Wasted in your hands.”

He suddenly moved — only a flash, like a brief pulse of white light.

In an instant he was back in the place where he had stood, so swift it seemed as though he had never moved at all, as if only his shoulder had stirred.

Yet Helian Xia, standing some zhang and a half away, had been split apart.

The body split down the middle — two halves slowly toppling to the ground.

The delight in the Sect Master’s eyes grew heavier. He seemed to have developed a fondness for the Jingzhe Blade, reluctant to set it down.

His gaze left the Jingzhe Blade and settled on Cao Lie.

“Kneel.”

—