The youth, who had originally been fleeing, turned back like a savage beast.

Shi Shuifang drew the curved saber at his waist, and with a strange howl, met him head-on.

On the distant hillside, heads were packed together — the Yan family’s guests and the Li family’s tenant farmers were still gathering, and those standing at the front watched the scene with some astonishment, slowly chewing over the wrongness of it all.

Recalling the miserable sight of Wu Cheng being beaten down earlier, someone said in a low voice, “We fell for a trick.” Another said, “This youth is being too arrogant.”

“Hero Shi’s swordsmanship is exquisite — how could he possibly know that?”

Amid the murmuring crowd, people like Yan Tiehe and Li Ruoyao all turned their gazes toward Monk Cixin, still asking, “What sort of martial arts does this youth practice?” This was naturally because Cixin was the only one who had crossed hands with the youth so far. The monk’s gaze remained fixed below, his eyes carrying a trace of tension, but his mouth said, “He took my palm strike without much trouble — that shouldn’t have been so easy for him.” The crowd could not help but nod vigorously.

In the distance beneath the setting sun, Shi Shuifang’s Miao saber slashed out fiercely, accompanied by that unsettling, strange howl. Yan Yunzhi watched the momentum of that blow, and a chill crept quietly into her heart.

She had fought a bout with Shi Shuifang earlier, lasting until the eleventh move before his curved saber was pressed against her neck — but that had been a sparring match, and Shi Shuifang had not used his full strength. Now, beneath the setting sun, as he slashed that blow toward the youth, the saber’s glint was sinister and fierce, soul-stirring, and even the strange howl from his mouth had its origins — it was something violent men from the Miao borderlands and the Western Regions often imitated, the long cries of mountain goblins and ghosts, eerie in tone. Used alongside a strike, it served two purposes: first, to boost one’s own power, and second, to strike fear into the enemy before the blow even landed. Had he used a move like this in their earlier sparring match, she herself would have found it extremely difficult to block.

Below, amid the wild grass and scattered rocks, the youth’s figure charged toward Shi Shuifang without the slightest slowing or dodging. The two shadows crashed together violently, and a booming sound rose into the air, kicking up countless blades of grass, clumps of dirt, and bits of gravel. Shi Shuifang let out a long howl, his curved saber flashing like lightning in his hand as his body retreated rapidly, darting to the side as well — yet the youth’s figure clung to him like a maggot in the bone, crashing again and again within the reach of Shi Shuifang’s blade.

Because the distance was too great, the crowd above could not make out the details of the exchange at all. Yet Shi Shuifang’s movements were unbelievably swift, and the strange howls accompanying his strikes grew almost hysterical — how fierce that flashing blade was! No one could tell what weapon the youth held in his hand, but at this moment he was pressing straight at Shi Shuifang head-on. Most of Shi Shuifang’s saber strikes failed to connect, only cutting the surrounding wild grass into the air; once, the curved blade seemed to strike the youth’s hand, but it only rang out with a clang and was knocked back.

“What style is this youth using?”

“What weapon does he wield?”

Amid the crowd’s whispering, Yan Yunzhi stared wide-eyed at everything happening below. The sword technique she cultivated, the Tan Gong Sword, was an assassin’s blade, one that prized eyesight above all else — yet in this moment, with the two figures colliding and surging within the sea of grass, she ultimately could not make out what the youth held in his hand. It was her uncle Yan Tiehe who looked closely and finally spoke.

“It looks like a rock,” he said. “Perhaps he just picked it up.”

“…Using a rock the size of a palm… to block a blade?”

The crowd listened, dumbfounded. Yan Tiehe said, “At this distance, even I can’t see clearly. Perhaps there are other methods at play as well.” Only then did the others nod.

Even as this brief exchange of words took place, the battle below did not pause for an instant. Shi Shuifang, pressed fiercely by the youth, was forced to retreat backward and sideways, his body tumbling into the tall grass and vanishing for a moment. As the youth plunged in after him, a flash of blade light shot skyward, cutting an astonishing arc through the dense grass. The sheer force, speed, and ferocity of that Miao saber’s slash were laid bare by the way it cleanly severed the grass blades across the sky — had this blow been struck on the training grounds, everyone present would surely have risen to their feet in sincere admiration. Whoever this blow landed on would surely have been cut clean in two.

But in the next instant, Shi Shuifang’s figure tumbled wretchedly out of the grass, the youth right on his heels — before he had even hit the ground, the youth had already seized him by the collar and shoved him backward.

Shi Shuifang let out a strange, hoarse cry, blood already spraying from his mouth. His right hand swung the Miao saber in a continuous series of slashes, but his body was yanked into a wild spin. At some point, his clothes tore apart with a ripping sound, and it seemed he took a punch to the head as well, sending him tumbling to one side.

“Get off — who are you—” Those on the hillside heard him roar hysterically.

“…Your father.” The youth below answered with just that, and charged forward again.

Shi Shuifang spun and dodged, plunging into the grass beside him, and the youth pressed on after him. In that same instant, two flashes of blade light rose up — Shi Shuifang burst out with a fierce howl. His headscarf was now in disarray, his clothes in tatters, revealing hideous tattoos across his exposed body — and now, astonishingly, a second curved saber had appeared in his left hand. Both Miao sabers slashed and danced together like two unstoppable whirlpools, converging to tear apart the charging youth!

The crowd on the hillside held their breath. Among the Li family, only a handful had known that Shi Shuifang still had a killing move in reserve. Now that he had unleashed it, it seemed the youth would be unable to dodge in time and would be swallowed whole, minced into pulp.

Yet the blade light collided with the youth, and the wild slashing of his right hand was suddenly knocked aside. Shi Shuifang’s footing had originally been in a full lunge, but in the instant the blade light was deflected, his body seemed to take a punch of unknown weight — his entire frame shuddered in midair, and then, in what felt like one continuous motion, a fist struck him across the side of his face.

Shi Shuifang staggered backward, the sabers in both hands still swinging on momentum alone. The youth’s body seemed to shrink the distance between them in an instant, and Shi Shuifang’s back suddenly arched — blood sprayed from his mouth. This punch had likely landed on his lower abdomen or his chest.

Shi Shuifang retreated again, and the youth advanced again, his body slamming directly into Shi Shuifang and sending him flying. The two figures together crossed a distance of more than two zhang, colliding violently against a large boulder. The boulder toppled backward, and Shi Shuifang, caught in the middle of the impact, collapsed to the ground like a heap of mud, kneeling.

By whatever force had caused it, Shi Shuifang, now kneeling on the ground, was already covered head to toe in blood — yet his head still managed to move. He lifted his gaze toward the youth, his mouth moving as if trying to say something. Beneath the setting sun, the youth standing before him raised his fist and brought it down upon his face with a whistling blow.

On the hillside, for a moment, almost no one spoke.

Shi Shuifang’s earlier counterattack with dual blades had already been astonishing enough, but the youth’s three subsequent strikes were what truly left everyone breathless. Each punch the youth landed on Shi Shuifang seemed to hit with the full force of a water buffalo charging at full speed — especially that third blow, a shoulder-charge that sent Shi Shuifang’s entire body flying more than two zhang to slam into the boulder. His bones and internal organs had likely all been shattered.

Among the various sects and schools of the martial world, there was no shortage of fierce and forceful techniques — Monk Cixin’s Arhat Alms Bowl technique, for instance, or the Li family’s White Ape Through-the-Arms technique, which had its own devastating move, “Cloud-Piercing Strike Against Heaven.” But a devastating move earned that name precisely because it was not easy to use. Yet just now, after Shi Shuifang’s dual-blade counterattack, the youth’s strength in his own attack had come like a mountain collapsing and the sea overturning, killing Shi Shuifang outright through sheer brute force.

Only now did the crowd realize that the youth, who earlier had refused to engage Monk Cixin’s attacks and had instead focused solely on beating Wu Cheng, had actually been holding back, unwilling to take a life. After all, though Wu Cheng was currently at death’s door, he had at least not died as horrifically as Shi Shuifang just had.

On the far horizon, the sun was about to set. On the stretch of wild grass and scattered rocks below the slope, Shi Shuifang lay among the gravel, never to rise again. Below on the hillside, several Li family disciples who had tried to cross the rugged rocks and grass to offer rescue had already stopped in their tracks, terrified.

The youth of unknown origin, standing amid the wreckage of gravel and broken grass, raised his head and looked toward the hillside.

Li Ruoyao, leaning on his cane, said, “Master Cixin, why does this violent man seek revenge against Wu Cheng? Please tell us honestly what he said earlier.”

Everyone present was now filled with dread, understanding that this matter had become extremely serious.

Monk Cixin opened his mouth, hesitated for a moment, and finally revealed a complicated, helpless expression. Raising his palm, he said, “Amitabha. It is not that this monk is unwilling to speak, but… the words were simply too bizarre. This monk fears he must have misheard, and repeating them would only invite ridicule.”

“Say it anyway,” Li Ruoyao said.

“What this monk heard was… ‘you kicked my stool’ — it seems that Steward Wu kicked his stool, and so he came up the mountain seeking revenge…”

Everyone present now wore serious expressions upon hearing this, and after hearing it, they too turned their serious faces toward Monk Cixin, then turned their heads away just as seriously, silently pondering the matter of the stool.

They gazed down the hill, still waiting to see what further move the youth below might make. But amid the gravel, the youth seemed to place his hands on his hips for a moment, then let them drop again. For some reason, without saying a word, he simply turned and walked off into the distance.

By the conventions of the martial world, whether one sought revenge or picked a fight, one always left behind some parting words. Watching this scene unfold, everyone present was rather at a loss. But at this moment, no one dared to speak up to question him or urge him to state his business properly — after all, Shi Shuifang had been beaten to death right after giving his name. Perhaps this youth was simply deranged: he hadn’t given his name when he kicked over the stool and was beaten half to death, but the moment he gave his name, he was killed on the spot. Of course, no one dared voice such an absurd theory aloud at the moment.

Li Ruoyao’s gaze swept over the crowd, and after a pause, he finally spoke, one word at a time: “A powerful enemy has struck today. Order every household — enter the manor, enforce curfew. Every family’s sons are to be issued weapons, fishing nets, bows and crossbows, and stand fully prepared against the enemy! Furthermore, send someone to notify Magistrate Huang, and have him mobilize the local militia and constables at once, on guard against bandits and outlaws! As for the stewards, first go and collect Hero Shi’s remains, then I want every single matter connected to Steward Wu recently investigated thoroughly for me — especially whose stool he kicked. I want the entire chain of events, from beginning to end, investigated — clearly—”

The sunlight faded, and only now did everyone feel the evening wind rising on the hillside. Li Ruoyao’s voice echoed through the air. Yan Yunzhi looked toward the direction where the battle had taken place, her heart pounding — was this truly what a real master of the martial world looked like? Even her own father probably could not reach such skill… She glanced toward Yan Tiehe, only to find her uncle also gazing thoughtfully in that direction, perhaps pondering the same matter — if only they could figure out just who that person really was…

…

“…A real man… does not change his name when he walks, nor his surname when he sits. I am… this one is… I am… Jiangning Long Aotian… hm, young master Jiangning Long Aotian, that’s who I am… that’s right… I’m your father…”

The words came out broken and fragmented, tinged with hesitation.

While the Li family was busy dealing with the aftermath, investigating the cause, and organizing their response, Ning Ji was walking through a nearby patch of forest, quietly rehearsing his future persona to himself. For some reason, it didn’t feel quite right.

The plan to seek revenge at the Li family’s manor hadn’t been especially well thought out, but on the whole, Ning Ji had not intended to kill anyone outright. For one thing, his father, his elder brother, and even the various elders in the army had all spoken of this before — killing was certainly a clean and satisfying way to settle scores, but if it truly stirred up widespread outrage, the endless aftermath would be far too troublesome. For another, when it came to the Li family, though many of them were accomplices to wrongdoing, killing every single one of them would simply be too exhausting. Steward Wu and the couple Xu Dong might well deserve death, and it would be fine if they died, but as for the others, he still had no wish to raise a hand against them.

This was also why, when Monk Cixin had charged at him with an obviously flawed technique, Ning Ji had ultimately not truly struck him.

Who could have known he would run into that villain named Shi Shuifang.

Naturally, Ning Ji did not recognize this man. Back when Overlord Blade had risen up alongside Sacred Duke Fang La, and the uprising had failed, there had been a difficult period during which the family members left behind in Lan Huantong had suffered various misfortunes as a result. Shi Shuifang, back in the Miao borderlands, had once robbed and murdered — an old, weak family with women and children had fallen into his hands. He believed that since Overlord Blade was out there in rebellion, he must have amassed great wealth, and so he had tortured and slaughtered that entire family for it. This matter had once been recorded in Auntie Gua’s little notebook titled “A Life for a Life, A Debt for a Debt.” Ning Ji, having studied martial arts under her since childhood, had once seen that notebook and asked about it, and so it had stuck in his memory.

This Shi Shuifang did not even rank among the worst villains in that notebook — the greatest villain in it was, first, the fat monk Lin Echan, then his accomplice Wang Nantuo, and after that, various court lackeys like Tie Tianying. Shi Shuifang ranked somewhere near the bottom, almost forgettable — but since he’d run into him, of course he’d go ahead and take care of him.

While beating Wu Cheng half to death, Ning Ji had still been able to hold back his anger somewhat, but by the time he killed Shi Shuifang, his emotions had turned genuinely serious. After finishing the fight, he had originally meant to leave some parting words — after all, this was the perfect moment to make the name “Long Aotian” famous. But by the time it came to it, having watched an entire afternoon of monkey theater, the words on the tip of his tongue suddenly felt embarrassing for some reason. He put his hands on his hips, then immediately dropped them again. Standing there with his hands on his hips and saying something now would look terribly foolish, so after a moment’s hesitation, he finally turned and slunk away.

What had gone through his mind in that moment was something he would never tell another living soul.

Of course, there would be other chances.

Having already dealt with Wu Cheng, next he could head into town and take care of that couple, Li Xiaoqian and Xu Dong. He’d beat them half to death and write “The murderer is Long Aotian” on the wall in their blood — that way he wouldn’t have to embarrassingly shout it out loud. He wrote the character “Long” (dragon) quite well, but the character “Ao” (proud) always came out a bit off…

Once that was done, he’d race off straight to Jiangning, to see what his parents’ old hometown had become. The house where his parents had once lived, the stilted houses by the river where Auntie Yunzhu and Auntie Jin’er had stayed, and the spot by the river where Old Grandpa Qin used to play chess — since his parents had often spoken of these places, he thought he might still be able to find them…

By now the sun had long since set, and night had blanketed the land. As he thought over these things, his mood lightened, though his hands never stopped moving — he took out his disguise kit and began altering his appearance.

At the same time, the scholars Fan Heng, Chen Junsheng, and the others, who had once traveled together for a time, had each gone their separate ways, having already left the borders of Tongshan.

Wang Xiuniang, her face bruised and swollen, had finished serving medicine to her now-awakened father at the inn in Tangjiaji. She stepped out with a calm expression, then hid in a corner of the inn and quietly began to weep. Over the past two-plus months, this ordinary girl had once come close to happiness. But now, everyone had left, leaving only her and a father who might well be crippled for the rest of his life. Her future — even its faintest glimmer of starlight — seemed to be going out…

No one knew that, in the prison of the Tongshan county yamen, Lu Wenke had already endured his first round of the welcoming rod.

His buttocks and thighs had been beaten to a bloody pulp, but the constables had not let up — they had strung him up on the torture rack, waiting for Xu Dong to come by that night to “prepare” him for round two.

“Injustice! Is there no law left—”

He never once saw the magistrate himself, and so, once the constables had left the torture chamber, he began shouting from the rack.

“I am — a scholar of Hongzhou — Lu Wenke! My father is a secretary to the prefect of Hongzhou — you cannot arrest me—”

He shouted and wailed like this.

Unwilling to believe that the world had grown so dark.

…

Night had fallen, pitch black.

After a while, the magistrate arrived.