At the Su family compound.

Su Changhe continued lying idly on the bamboo couch, claiming he’d been injured by Mu Ciling’s Yama Palm and needed rest, making him the only person besides Su Muqiu allowed to stay in the inner hall. The remaining Su family disciples all kept watch in the main hall, none daring to return to their rooms to rest.

Because this day wasn’t over yet.

No one knew what else might happen.

As dusk approached, of the three Su family disciples who had gone out to gather intelligence, only two returned, their clothes stained with blood, clearly having survived fierce fighting.

“What’s the situation outside?” Su Muqiu asked.

One of the returned disciples took a large gulp of water, then replied between breaths: “The Xie and Mu families have completely turned against each other. The Mu family seems to have taken the Sleeping Dragon Sword, but the Xie family has surrounded their compound, preventing anyone from leaving. They’ve been in a standoff for hours now—the Mu family won’t come out, and the Xie family won’t go in. But it won’t last long. There will be a fierce battle tonight.”

“Why didn’t Su Rui return with you?” Su Muqiu asked.

“The Xie family discovered us and showed no mercy. Su Rui was killed…” the disciple sighed.

Su Muqiu tapped his finger lightly on the wooden table beside him: “They only surround the Mu family without attacking, yet they kill our Su family disciples?”

“Xie Ba said the Su family’s fortune has run out and isn’t worth fearing, especially since they’ve already marked down the debt of Xie Fanhua’s death,” the disciple replied.

“I understand. You may go.” Su Muqiu waved his hand somewhat wearily, then returned to the inner hall.

Su Changhe was casually playing with a dagger, seemingly unconcerned about these matters: “In old Xie Ba’s eyes, our Su family’s fortune has run out.”

“In your heart, do you consider the Su family as ‘our’ family?” Su Muqiu asked.

“Ah, Uncle Qiu is upset that I won’t give my all?” Su Changhe sat up from the bamboo couch and turned toward the inner room. Su Jinhui had shut himself inside alone after his defeat earlier in the day, refusing to let anyone disturb him. By now, three or four hours had passed.

“The Family Head ordered that no one enter,” Su Muqiu said gravely.

“You can’t beat me, Uncle Qiu.” Su Changhe stretched lazily, spinning the dagger between his fingers as he walked past Su Muqiu.

Su Muqiu lowered his head slightly, a bead of sweat sliding down his forehead.

“Uncle Qiu, you’re a smart man.” Su Changhe pushed open the door to the room, entered, and gently closed it behind him.

The room was pitch black. Su Jinhui sat with his back to Su Changhe, not turning around though he’d guessed who had entered: “You’ve come.”

Su Changhe smiled: “The Old Master knew I would come?”

Su Jinhui’s voice carried exhaustion: “You’re very much like I was in my youth.”

Su Changhe twisted his mouth: “Was the Old Master such a worthless person in his youth too?”

Su Jinhui started, then shook his head slightly: “You seem to dislike showing your true self, because you’re hiding many things, afraid of being seen through. Before, you didn’t dare show yourself when I suppressed you. But today, with my edge dulled, do you think your chance has come?”

Su Changhe leaned against the door, rapidly spinning the dagger between his fingers: “Old Master, you love to calculate people’s hearts. Then calculate this—what do you think I came here to do?”

“You want the position of Su family head?” Su Jinhui said slowly. “But you’re a Nameless One. Just as Su Muyu had no right to inherit the Patriarch’s position as a Nameless One, you have no right to inherit the Su family leadership.”

“How you underestimate me.” Su Changhe said lazily. “In your eyes, I’m still just a petty person fighting for power and profit.”

“You are strong, which is why I initially gave you responsibility for this mission. If you could kill Su Muyu, then after I inherited the Patriarch’s position, I would have given you the Su family leadership. But unfortunately, you failed. A Nameless One who still holds onto emotions cannot serve as the Su family head.” Su Jinhui’s pupils contracted slightly.

“The mere position of Su family head? I, Su Changhe, look down on it. What I intend to do is something no one in the Dark River has dared in hundreds of years. What I want to achieve is an ambition none of you dare imagine. I will change the Dark River! Do you know why I named myself Changhe? Two suns make ‘Chang,’ meaning prosperity and brightness!” Su Changhe suddenly stood straight, his lazy demeanor completely gone, replaced by an overwhelming killing intent that could make one suffocate.

“Your Inch Finger Sword is powerful, but defeating me won’t be easy. Even with my sword broken, I am still Su Jinhui!” Su Jinhui pressed his hand lightly on the long table before him, and frost energy instantly spread throughout the room, quickly freezing the door behind Su Changhe.

“A tiger without claws, a dragon without eyes—neither concerns me!” Su Changhe leaped forward, his dagger stabbing toward Su Jinhui’s back. Su Jinhui pushed his palm forward lightly, using the momentum to retreat backward, avoiding Su Changhe’s strike. He then crouched slightly, drawing a short blade hidden on his right leg, and swung it forward.

With a loud clang, both men stepped back simultaneously.

“I know some short sword techniques as well,” Su Jinhui smiled coldly.

“There’s no path forward, yet you still won’t stop?” Su Changhe brought his hands together and then spread them apart, sending four daggers flying simultaneously toward Su Jinhui.

Su Jinhui swung his short blade rapidly, shouting: “As assassins, there is no victory or defeat, only life and death. As long as we’re not dead, there’s always a path!”

In the outer hall, Su Muqiu heard the clash of weapons from the inner room. As he hesitated whether to intervene, the sound of clashing weapons and agonized screams suddenly erupted from the main hall. He started, quickly drawing his sword to rush out.

But a sword was already pointed at his brow.

Su Muqiu naturally recognized the sword-wielder—one of the few who had managed to keep their swords from being taken by Mu Ciling today. But clearly, the skill behind this sword pointed at Su Muqiu far exceeded the swordsmanship he usually displayed.

“Su Luandan, you all…” Su Muqiu glanced into the hall. Nearly half the Su family disciples had been killed, and the remaining ones were all skilled young fighters of the newer generation. They wiped the blood from their swords with their sleeves, smiling coldly at Su Muqiu.

In the inner room, fragments of the short blade lay scattered on the ground. Su Jinhui clutched his chest as he slowly fell, saying gravely: “You…”

Su Changhe’s red qi slowly dissipated from his hands as he smiled: “I know the Yama Palm too?”