In Jiuxiao City.

Within a mansion with vermillion gates.

Dozens of burly swordsmen stood there, each carrying an unsheathed blade. Under the sunlight, their weapons gleamed with cold ferocity.

Behind these men, an elder with graying temples sat drinking tea. Beside him stood a saber with golden rings, and though his face was fierce, marked by a long scar that split it from end to end, he incongruously sat before an elegant table set with exquisite tea implements.

A small flame burned slowly, letting the tea’s fragrance drift through the air.

The swordsmen in the courtyard stared ahead, their expressions unchanging, like statues carved from stone.

Finally, the main gate opened slowly, and Xie Qianji entered, carrying the headless corpse of Xie Fanhua. The elder barely lifted his head, his eyebrows trembling almost imperceptibly.

The swordsmen parted, creating a path.

Xie Qianji approached step by step, carrying Xie Fanhua through the ranks of swordsmen until he reached the elder.

The elder unhurriedly poured a cup of tea and pushed it forward.

Xie Qianji set down the body and knelt on one knee: “Xie Fanhua was killed by someone from the Su Family while attempting to obtain the Sleeping Dragon Sword.”

“Your health was poor, so you couldn’t drink wine—only tea, claiming it would extend your life. But I told you long ago that as assassins, we live by the blade. Each day lived to the fullest is a day well spent.” The elder raised his head slightly, looking at Xie Fanhua’s corpse, but without its head, he couldn’t even share a final gaze with the deceased. Sudden anger rose in his heart. He drew the golden-ringed saber at his side and brought it down, shattering the long table and all its tea implements to pieces.

Hot tea sprayed upward, splashing onto Xie Qianji, who bit his lip without a word, knowing this was the Family Master’s punishment. The other swordsmen also knelt on one knee, shouting in unison: “Master, please temper your grief.”

The elder looked at Xie Qianji on the ground: “What of Seven-Blade Xie’s disciple?”

Xie Qianji’s heart went cold, and he replied helplessly: “Xie Buxie was defeated by Su Muyu, then left. His whereabouts are unknown.”

“Unknown whereabouts?” The elder frowned slightly. “Are you suggesting Xie Buxie has defected?”

Xie Qianji bowed his head: “Your disciple wouldn’t dare suggest such a thing.”

“In the Dark River, there are no ‘unknown whereabouts.’ Leaving without permission is defection.” The elder raised a finger and waved it slightly. “Send two people to find him, and send word to Seven-Blade Xie to come to Jiuxiao City.”

Xie Qianji raised his head: “Uncle Seven-Blade drove me away when I went to find him before.”

“Everything has its price. If he wants to protect his disciple, he must pay it. The Dark River isn’t some common martial arts sect—’closed-door training’ is laughable.” The elder sneered.

“Then now…” Xie Qianji stood up.

“Who allowed you to stand?” The elder swung the back of his blade forward, knocking Xie Qianji to the ground. “Keep kneeling. For three days.”

“Family Master.” From among the crowd, a swordsman stepped forward, noticeably more slender than the surrounding men. Because she was a woman.

The elder glanced at her: “Huaqing.”

“Let me handle this matter,” the woman said, lifting the corner of her mouth slightly.

In another courtyard within Jiuxiao City.

A group of white-robed people gathered there.

They all wore white robes, and even the tables, gates, and pillars in the courtyard were dyed white as if preparing for a funeral.

Of course, this hadn’t been their initial intention. It was simply because the Mu Family of the Dark River had always favored whites. From Family Master Mu Zizhi down to the lowest member, they mostly wore white when going out, appearing untouched by worldly dust. This often drew mockery from the Su and Xie families—doing the work of killing for profit while pretending to be refined.

But today, this white—this courtyard of white—was fitting.

Because someone had indeed died.

Death was commonplace in the Dark River, but this time, the deceased was Mu Bai, son of the Mu Family Master.

The killer was a member of the Su Family, also of the Dark River.

The body lay on a wooden platform in the courtyard’s center.

Mu Qingyang, wearing Taoist robes, stood beside the platform, gently turning the peach blossom coin in his hand as he looked up at Mu Xiwei before him.

Mu Xiwei kept her hands tucked in her sleeves, looking down at Mu Bai’s corpse.

The chest had caved in, clearly crushed by some heavy object with devastating force.

Though the Mu Family’s medical skills were exceptional, second only to Medicine Valley, even the greatest medical arts couldn’t revive the dead.

Everyone surrounded the corpse in silence, waiting for one person.

The Mu Family Master, Mu Zizhi.

The white gate hadn’t opened, but the white figure had already appeared before them.

“Family Master!” Everyone knelt in unison.

Mu Zizhi immediately spotted the platform in the center and the corpse upon it. His expression remained unchanged as he walked slowly to the platform’s side. He glanced at the body: “Who killed him?”

“The Su Family. Su Zhe,” Mu Qingyang replied.

Mu Zizhi nodded: “His Golden Ring could indeed cause such damage. The Su Family deployed that monster—have they sided with the Great Elder?”

Mu Qingyang shook his head: “Probably not. He appeared to kill the divine physician from Medicine Valley but suddenly attacked and killed our people en route. Young Master and I had escaped, but Young Master was still struck by Su Zhe’s Golden Ring. I barely managed to recover Young Master’s body at the cost of nearly dying myself.”

“For those of the Dark River, death comes swift and sudden—this is normal. Even for my son, it is the same. There’s no need for such ceremony,” Mu Zizhi turned away, no longer looking at the corpse.

Everyone privately breathed sighs of relief.

Mu Xiwei and Mu Qingyang exchanged glances, knowing this matter wasn’t so simple.

“Release him,” Mu Zizhi suddenly said.

Everyone was startled. Mu Xiwei hurriedly tried to speak, but Mu Qingyang quickly gestured for her to stop. He turned and said: “The journey back would be too far.”

“Not far at all. He has already arrived,” Mu Zizhi looked toward the gate.

The white gate slowly opened, and four white-robed Mu Family members wearing bamboo hats floated in carrying a black coffin. The four landed silently like ghosts, but when they released the coffin, it hit the ground with an incredibly heavy thud.

Mu Qingyang’s face turned ashen, his right fist slowly clenching: “Family Master…”

“Since the Su Family wishes to fight to the death, then let the Mu Family play along to the end.” Mu Zizhi walked to the black coffin and struck it heavily.