Deep in the night, the bright moon hung in the sky.

Most people in Xi’an Prefecture had already entered dreamland. Only in those streets in the western part of the city, where red lanterns hung high, was there still the sound of revelry and bustling noise, which further accentuated the quiet solemnity of the ancient city at night.

Suddenly, more than a dozen shadowy figures appeared on the roof of the Xisheng Inn. Light as swallows, with faces covered and crossbows on their backs, they quickly dispersed throughout the small courtyard.

In the cold moonlight, the arrowheads gleamed brightly, silently emanating a chilling murderous intent.

A towering man, eight feet tall, walked to the center of the courtyard and commanded in a deep voice, “Zhao Ling, come out at once to meet your death!”

Though his voice was low, it crashed down upon the courtyard like Mount Tai, emanating a murderous aura that even Mo Yi, who was hiding inside, could feel. “Who is this person?” he asked.

“Lord Marquis’s guard, Lin Chi.”

Mo Yi was stunned. “That Lin Chi who is known as the Northern Frontier’s number one fighter?”

Tao Mu nodded.

Mo Yi gave an “Oh” and silently walked to the window, pushing it open a crack to peek outside. “It would be a pity not to witness a duel between masters.” Before he could finish his sentence, they heard the creaking sound of a door, and Zhao Ling walked out with his sword.

In the moonlight, his expression remained unchanged, as steady as a mountain.

Lin Chi soared into the air, his strong body as light as willow catkins. His crescent moon blade flashed like lightning with a sharp whistle as it slashed down toward Zhao Ling’s head.

With a “clang,” Zhao Ling raised his sword unhurriedly, yet perfectly timed to block the crescent moon blade aimed at him. Lin Chi, as if struck by something, was repelled and fell back several steps before regaining his footing.

“Excellent swordsmanship!” Tao Mu was moved and walked to Mo Yi’s side.

Mo Yi sneered, “What use is good swordsmanship? Once we lure him into the courtyard, he won’t escape.”

As they spoke, the two fighters had already exchanged seven or eight moves. The clanging sounds were incessant, crisp as metal striking stone, pleasing to the ear. Yet Mo Yi and Tao Mu, standing by the window, felt a heavy pressure bearing down on them, making it difficult to breathe.

“Truly a battle between masters,” Tao Mu’s eyes brightened.

They saw Lin Chi’s blade moving with otherworldly grace, like an immortal descending from the ninth heaven. Zhao Ling, meanwhile, stood as solid as an ancient temple. No matter how elusive Lin Chi’s attacks were, Zhao Ling merely waved his sword casually, yet Lin Chi fell to the ground awkwardly as if cast down from the celestial realm.

Which fighter was superior was already evident without words.

“This won’t work!” Tao Mu said in a low voice. “Forget about forcing Zhao Ling into the courtyard—it’s questionable how long Lin Chi can even hold out.” He asked Mo Yi, “Didn’t you say Zhao Ling had internal injuries? Who took his pulse?”

“Qu Yunxiang.” Mo Yi kept his eyes fixed on the scene outside.

The top expert at the Sixteenth Young Master’s side, skilled in medicine.

Tao Mu no longer doubted and frowned in deep thought for a while before saying, “We need to reconsider our plans regarding Zhao Ling!”

Mo Yi heard the implication in his words and turned his head. “What?” His face was full of surprise.

“We underestimated Zhao Ling.” Tao Mu’s expression was extremely stern. “Our options now are either to step forward to help Zhao Ling against Lin Chi, creating a show for him to see, or to help Lin Chi and ambush Zhao Ling when he’s unprepared. We must kill him tonight.”

Mo Yi hesitated momentarily.

Was Zhao Ling that difficult to deal with?

Suddenly, there came a barrage of “whoosh, whoosh, whoosh” sounds from outside, like a sudden shower of arrows.

Both men’s expressions changed.

Regardless of what they thought, there could only be one outcome today.

Zhao Ling had walked to the center of the courtyard, and the men of the Divine Crossbow Battalion had made their move.

Mo Yi and Tao Mu couldn’t help but look outside.

In the clear moonlight, the arrows flew like meteors, and the sword gleamed like white silk.

The meteors streaked across the night sky toward the white silk that enveloped Zhao Ling, creating a series of clanging sounds, yet all fell at Zhao Ling’s feet.

Lin Chi stood upright beneath the eaves, but the pair of crescent moon blades he had fought with as if they were his life now hung powerlessly at his sides.

Mo Yi and Tao Mu both changed color. One turned to grab his nine-ring broadsword, while the other drew a soft whip from his waist, and they rushed toward the door.

Just then, they heard Zhao Ling emit a phoenix-like clear whistle. The quiet Renshou Street suddenly erupted with the clanging sound of brass gongs, accompanied by a hoarse voice like a drake: “Help! Someone is robbing the Xisheng Inn! Help! Someone is robbing the Xisheng Inn!”

The two men simultaneously stopped in their tracks, looking at each other in dismay.

A clamor of footsteps came from Renshou Street, mixed with rough, impatient shouts: “In the middle of the night, who’s making that ghostly racket?”

The drake-like hoarse voice, though harsh, spread in all directions with perfect clarity: “Officials, officials, thieves with blades are robbing the Xisheng Inn.”

With blades—they weren’t mere thieves but armed bandits.

“Where? Where?” The street was filled with anxious shouts.

Tao Mu smiled bitterly in resignation: “Let’s hope Lin Chi still has the strength to get out of here!”

“Help Zhao Ling?” Mo Yi hesitated, still somewhat unwilling.

Tao Mu gave him a profound look and had already opened the door: “Brother Zhao, what has happened?”

Lin Chi immediately understood and made a gesture to the crossbowmen hiding in the shadows. Together, they retreated like the ebbing tide, completely vanishing.

Zhao Ling put away his sword without pursuing them. Instead, he flicked his toe, and with a flash of cold light, a broken arrow whistled through the air and embedded itself in the main gate, trembling with a humming sound like a peerless sword unsheathed.

Following behind Tao Mu, Mo Yi’s expression changed dramatically. His heart shuddered, and after a pause, he said, “Brother Zhao, what happened?”

Zhao Ling stood as straight as a pine tree. Hearing this, he slowly turned, his expression calm, his black eyes as clear as the morning stars on the horizon.

“And who might this be?” he looked at Tao Mu, smiling slightly. His smile even carried a touch of warmth and friendliness, but with the backdrop of broken arrows scattered around him, Tao Mu inexplicably felt a bone-chilling cold that left his limbs numb.

He stepped forward with a smile and cupped his hands in greeting: “I am Tao Mu, Master Mo’s brother…”

…

After questioning and signing statements, it was broad daylight when Zhao Ling, Mo Yi, and Tao Mu finally left the yamen.

Zhao Ling bowed with cupped hands toward Mo Yi and Tao Mu: “What plans do you two gentlemen have? If you don’t mind, I’d like to treat you to breakfast?”

The two returned the greeting and were about to speak when the innkeeper, who had also been released, came running after them.

“Master Mo, Master Mo,” he wailed as if at a funeral. “What is going on? What kind of people have you offended? How did military crossbow arrows get involved?” He pulled at Mo Yi. “You must testify before my owner that this has nothing to do with me! I’m just an innkeeper…” He refused to let Mo Yi go.

Since Mo Yi had rented the courtyard, naturally, the innkeeper would seek him out.

Blue veins popped on Mo Yi’s forehead. The dispute had already drawn the attention of a crowd. How could he lose his temper with so many eyes watching?

Zhao Ling stepped forward with a smile: “Brother Mo, it seems I’ll have to invite you another day. It’s getting late, and I still need to go to the Shaanxi Military Commission to pay my respects to Director Wu Xin, the great Official Wu.” With an apologetic nod to Tao Mu, he turned and left.

Tao Mu rubbed his forehead.

Mo Yi couldn’t help but curse loudly, “Damn it!”

The innkeeper paled at his words: “Master Mo, I respect you as my honored guest. How can you insult me like this…”

Hearing the chaotic quarrel behind him, Zhao Ling felt as if he’d been relieved of a heavy burden he’d carried on his back, experiencing a lightness he’d never known before.

If not for the Ninth Miss Fu’s mischief, encouraging Yu Cheng and San Fu to stay at the Xisheng Inn, would he have reconsidered this matter?

Probably not!

All along, he had been obsessed with returning to Jiangnan, to that place always shrouded in misty rain, where even the breath carried a damp taste… He had never thought of taking a step back.

Yet the Ninth Miss Fu had inadvertently touched his weakness.

Jiangnan was important, but not as important as these brothers who had fought alongside him through life and death, not as important as A-Sen whom he had raised with his own hands.

He had to reconsider this matter.

Joining the Sixteenth Young Master carried extreme risk, but it was also a rare opportunity.

The Gansu General, the Military Commander of Shaanxi, the Guangdong General… what other cards did the Sixteenth Young Master hold?

The relationships were intricately complex, yet this might be his opportunity.

If successful, whether he returned to Jiangnan or not would no longer matter.

Zhao Ling stopped walking and stood among the crowd, smiling slightly. His smile carried a hint of fondness he was unaware of.

If he had disagreed, Yu Cheng would have pestered him shamelessly. Failing that, they would have found a way to steal the introduction letter and force him to meet Wu Xin… Thinking things so simply, like a child’s game—such ideas could probably only come from someone as fearless as the Ninth Miss Fu!

Fu Tingyun’s face, radiant as a flower, suddenly appeared in his mind.

By now, she should have received the news!

How happy she must be!

Suddenly, he very much wanted to see her, to see her smiling face.

Would she display the smugness of someone who had gotten her way? Or would she pretend not to know while secretly flashing a cunning smile behind his back?

Zhao Ling was quite looking forward to it.

Someone beside him called out loudly: “Young master, are you buying or not?”

Zhao Ling looked toward the voice.

A burly man carrying baskets of fruit glared at him, dissatisfied: “Are you buying or not? Say something! Standing like a door plank in front of me, you’re blocking my business!”

The pears were bright yellow, the apples bright red, and the watermelons were a lovely emerald green.

The Mid-Autumn Festival was just two days away. This was her first time away from home—she hadn’t spent the festival with her family before, had she?

Thinking of this, as if possessed, he pointed to the watermelon in the basket: “How many copper coins for one?”

The burly fruit seller rolled his eyes: “Copper coins? Do you think this is a year of a good harvest? This is a year of famine. Three taels of silver for one!”

…

Zhao Ling knocked on the main gate of the Yangliuxiang residence with a watermelon in hand. Old Master Lü, Madam Lü, Yang Yucheng, A-Sen, and Zheng San all excitedly gathered around him.

“Ninth Master, are you alright?”

“Amitabha Buddha, you’ve finally returned safely!”

“Ninth Master, you didn’t see it—that Mo Yi’s face turned green!”

They all chattered simultaneously.

But his gaze fell on Fu Tingyun, who was standing far away under the eaves of the main house.

She wore a moonlight-white right-lapel short coat of Songjiang cloth and a bright blue coarse cloth skirt. Her black hair was casually coiled with two small jasmine flowers pinned in it. She looked no different from the other young women passing by on the street, yet she was like a pearl or jade in the vicinity, making it impossible for him to look away.

Fu Tingyun opened her eyes wide as she looked at him: “Ninth Master, are you feeling unwell somewhere?” She looked him up and down, and seeing no unusual signs, continued, “Why are you back so early? Young Master Yang said you would go to the Military Commission early in the morning to pay your respects to Official Wu. Did you go but not meet him?”

Her bright gaze made Zhao Ling feel uncomfortable all over. He raised the watermelon in his hand: “Oh, I encountered someone selling watermelons, which is quite rare, so I bought a few back to celebrate the Mid-Autumn Festival. I’m heading to the Military Commission now…”