Xie Zaiye gripped his bow, staring intently at the incoming rain of blades. It wasn’t that he was too frightened to dodge—he had already calculated countless countermeasures in his mind, but none would work. This was a killing move that left no escape.
It cut off all hope of survival.
Damn it!
In desperation, Xie Zaiye raised his bow once more, nocking every remaining arrow from his quiver onto the string.
“No need to try. Your death is certain,” a resonant voice suddenly rang out from behind him.
“Grandfather…” Xie Zaiye froze.
An elderly man with snow-white hair and a beard suddenly appeared before Xie Zaiye. The old man raised his hand sharply and roared, “Back!” A vast surge of true qi burst forth, meeting the seventeen flying blades head-on.
Seeing this, Su Muyu immediately waved his left hand, recalling the seventeen blades before landing steadily.
Su Changhe approached while whistling softly, twirling a dagger in his hand: “Sure enough, every matter of life and death for the Dark River requires us brothers working together to resolve.”
“If you’d come earlier, this Ten Thousand Scrolls Tower would have already been demolished,” Su Muyu’s tone carried a hint of complaint.
“Oh?” Su Changhe smiled. “Are you blaming me for being late?”
Su Muyu sighed softly: “Because these three look quite formidable.”
Besides the white-haired elder who had just appeared, two more elderly men stood before them. One was gaunt, wearing white robes that billowed in the night wind like a skeleton’s shroud. The other had refined features with three wisps of gray beard, resembling a learned scholar. The one who had acted first was powerfully built with a thunderous voice that commanded natural authority.
“You two are the current leaders of the Dark River? You seem quite young,” the robust elder asked.
Su Changhe smiled: “I am Su Changhe, Great Elder of the Dark River, and beside me is Su Muyu, current head of the Su family. We pay our respects to the three elders.”
“Was that the Eighteen Sword Formation of Su Eighteen he just used?” the white-robed elder asked in a hoarse, barely discernible voice.
Xie Zaiye started: “Eighteen Sword Formation?”
“Yes,” Su Muyu nodded.
“Hahahaha. I never thought I’d live to see the Eighteen Sword Formation appear in the world again.” The white-robed elder’s laughter was eerily horrifying.
Su Muyu asked, puzzled: “From the elder’s words, you’ve seen this Eighteen Sword Formation before? Met Su Eighteen?”
“When I was young, Su Eighteen was already seventy. I was fortunate to witness his last use of the Eighteen Sword Formation. How many years has it been?” The white-robed elder started counting on his fingers. “Sixty years, or seventy?”
“Stop counting. Count too precisely, and you’ll count your days away,” the scholarly elder advised gently.
“You’re right. If we don’t remember the days, we don’t remember how old we are, and then we can keep on living,” the white-robed elder lowered his fingers.
Su Muyu and Su Changhe exchanged glances, both seeing the surprise in each other’s eyes. Su Eighteen, creator of the Eighteen Sword Formation and the Dark River’s greatest assassin from generations past, had always existed only in legend. Yet here stood someone who had seen that legend.
“May we know your honored names?” Su Muyu asked solemnly.
The scholarly elder smiled: “These youngsters, hearing your words, must think we three are renowned figures. I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed—we are nobodies in the martial world.”
“Even if we once had names, they weren’t our real ones,” the white-robed elder said mysteriously.
“I am Xie Piyou,” the robust elder declared.
“I am Mu Fusheng,” the white-robed elder’s voice remained barely audible.
“I am Su Ziyan,” the scholarly elder maintained his gentle smile.
Though Su Changhe and Su Muyu had never heard these names in their twenty-plus years in the martial world, the revelation of their surnames shocked them more than any famous master’s name could have.
For these three bore the surnames Xie, Mu, and Su.
The very surnames of the Dark River’s three families.
“You are…?” Su Changhe’s pupils contracted slightly.
“Hahaha, they’re quite shocked by our surnames,” Su Ziyan laughed. “Indeed. We share the same roots as your Dark River’s three branches. When our ancestors divided, some went into the martial world, while others remained here. We three are descendants of those who stayed in Tianqi City.”
“They may be your ancestors, but not ours,” Su Changhe said coldly.
“Oh?” Su Ziyan’s smile faded. “What do you mean?”
Su Muyu lightly touched the seventeen blades: “Changhe and I were born nameless. The Dark River merely took us in as children—we don’t carry the blood of the three families.”
“So that’s it. I opposed this Nameless Plan from the start. Sure enough, the Dark River’s three families are now controlled by outsiders. No wonder they’ve come here as enemies of our Shadow Sect,” Xie Piyou’s voice carried barely contained anger.
“The new replacing the old is the way of the world. Even dynasties cannot last forever, let alone the mere Dark River,” Mu Fusheng said calmly. “Young ones, you’ve come to breach the Ten Thousand Scrolls Tower?”
“Yes. Though we brothers now lead the Dark River, most of our subordinates still carry the blood of the three families—your kinsmen. We ask the three elders to step aside and avoid conflict,” Su Muyu said gravely.
“This Tower holds no treasure or martial arts secrets, only the world’s hidden truths. Why do you seek to breach it?” Xie Piyou asked.
“If it holds the world’s secrets, it must hold the Dark River’s secrets too,” Su Ziyan realized suddenly.
Mu Fusheng sneered: “You want to destroy the Tower?”
“Burn all the secrets within it,” Su Changhe stroked his goatee.
“And burn away all ties between the Dark River and Shadow Sect.” Su Ziyan gripped his sword. “It seems that regardless of today’s outcome, our founding ancestors’ wish to guard the realm through shadows has finally shattered.”
“It shattered long ago. The Dark River and Shadow Sect stopped being the realm’s guardians in the shadows long ago.” Su Muyu raised his left hand, lifting the seventeen blades. “We’re merely pawns in the power games of those who stand in the sunlight!”
“Zaiye, stand back,” Xie Piyou gently pushed his grandson away. “Let me test this legendary Eighteen Sword Formation.”
Su Muyu leaped into the air: “It would be my honor!”