At dusk, the gates of Spring Breeze were thrown open.
The residents rushed out but didn’t stray far; instead, they waited just outside. The guards who had surrounded the township now formed a tight cordon around them, a test to see if any filth would prove contagious or if another incident might occur that night.
“I want to see Yan Mu! Move aside! Out of my way!”
The shrill voice belonged to a young woman, Zhu Qiao’er.
Many of the township residents turned their heads at the sound of her commotion, surprised by her boldness. The guards, seeing how brazen she was, didn’t bother to stop her and went instead to report the situation.
Just then, Fang Jianlong felt as though a sweet cake had suddenly fallen from the sky and landed in his lap. He looked at the domineering Zhu Qiao’er, feeling a swirl of complicated emotions. The two of them had secretly pledged themselves to each other in that hidden room, and he couldn’t help wondering if he’d lucked into something incredible. Zhu Qiao’er’s father was likely no ordinary disciple of the Sacred Fire Palace.
It had never crossed his mind that fortune might favor him . Now, it felt like everything was changing before his eyes. At the same time, Zhu Qiao’er was entirely focused on the man she cared about. She wanted to stand out so that her beloved could see who she truly was and never leave her side again—even if she herself, lacking the ability to practice martial arts, was only an ordinary person with a powerful father.
Before long, the guards parted, and a large, coal-black stallion trotted into view. Yan Mu sat astride it. He looked refined but carried a certain imposing air, nothing like the man who’d once stumbled upon Li Yuan in dire straits. The horse’s hooves clattered as it drew near. Yan Mu glanced at Zhu Qiao’er, momentarily taken aback. Then he dismounted.
“Miss Zhu, what are you doing here?” he asked.
“I was just out for a stroll after leaving my family’s tavern,” Zhu Qiao’er said with a slight bow, “but then everything went wrong.”
Yan Mu responded, “It’s dangerous here. Stay by my side.”
Zhu Qiao’er thanked him, then motioned to Fang Jianlong. “Mister Fang, the person you needed has arrived.”
Fang Jianlong hurried forward, bowed, and handed him a letter. Keeping his voice low, he said, “Fang Jianlong of the Blood Blade Sect. I’ve been entrusted by our patriarch to deliver this message.”
Yan Mu initially had no interest in taking letters, but upon hearing Blood Blade Sect and patriarch, he accepted it at once. He had a personal connection to the Blood Blade Patriarch, he couldn’t simply ignore it, especially given the guilt he still felt toward Li Yuan.
That night, the people who’d been forced out of Spring Breeze were too anxious to sleep, while the guards remained on high alert. Yet with Yan Mu, a sixth rank master, in their midst, they at least had someone to depend on, which eased their nerves.
When morning came, it turned out nothing had happened overnight. There were no disappearances, no outbreaks of madness. The skeptical guards were suddenly abuzz.
“Lord Yan was right.”
“So the true evil is inside Spring Breeze, not on these people.”
“Does this mean the prefecture lord truly intended to harm them all?”
“If not for Lord Yan, my third uncle would’ve been doomed...”
“Exactly, my second aunt is with this group as well.”
Because these guards were originally drawn from the same 36 counties, it was only natural that some of them had relatives or friends living in the township.
Yan Mu sat quietly beneath an ancient tree, occasionally hearing reports from soldiers who hurried over to whisper news in his ear. He frowned. The undying husks had vanished without a trace, like gophers refusing to show themselves. Whenever they were cornered, they seemed to slip away under everyone’s noses. A higher-up from the Holy Tree Temple had said these people seemed to have a hidden lair only they could enter—a place crawling with evil spirits, a place where they had long ceased to be human.
“They’ve turned into monsters, no wonder they commit such atrocious acts,” Yan Mu muttered to himself, eyes flashing with fury as he clenched his fists. But then, an image of his adorable little cousin in his uncle-in-law’s home flitted through his mind. She was still a child, innocent of any crime; he was the one at fault, not her. With that in mind, he suddenly waved Fang Jianlong over.
Fang Jianlong had been chatting intimately with Zhu Qiao’er, whispering sweet words in her ear. He was never one to obsess over romance, nor had he considered marrying an ordinary girl. Yet this chance had fallen right into his lap. If her father turned out to be a high ranking figure in the Sacred Fire Palace, his future path to the sixth rank would be far more secure. And so, he responded warmly to Zhu Qiao’er, murmuring tenderly to her as she pressed close.
Yan Mu noticed that Fang Jianlong still hadn’t reacted, so he called again, “Hey, you from the Blood Blade Sect!”
Snapped out of his reverie, Fang Jianlong hurried to rise, only to find Zhu Qiao’er clinging to his arm like a little vine. The two exchanged a tender glance before she finally let go.
Fang Jianlong went over to Yan Mu and bowed respectfully. “My lord.”
Yan Mu’s voice was solemn as he said, “I’ve read your letter. Please inform your patriarch that the rumored exchange channel between blood gold and ordinary gold has never been opened. I’m powerless to change that.”
Fang Jianlong hesitated, looking like he wanted to speak again. But Yan Mu cut him off with a wave of his hand. “That said, I can give all my personal stash of blood gold to your patriarch. Come with me first. When we return to our base, I’ll write a reply for you. Take both the letter and the blood gold back to him.”
A few days later, in Westplain County of Northriver Prefecture, several men were gathered in a spacious hall.
Westplain County was originally under the Farmstead Sect’s control, yet now even the sect leader wasn’t permitted to sit, forced instead to stand to the side in plain peasant clothes, offering a simple, deferential smile.
Within the hall stood five chairs. Occupying two of them were Yan Mu and, above him, a man in blue known as Mu Hua—the Holy Tree Temple envoy sent to oversee all affairs in Northriver Prefecture. Yan Mu served as his lieutenant.
Across from them sat a brawny older man with white hair, clad in yellow. He was from the Mountain Hall’s inner circle, known as Shan Baishou. It was said no one remembered his original name anymore, only his nickname remained.
Beside him was another figure, a slim, strikingly handsome youth who radiated a faintly sinister charm. This was Yuan Zongzi, an inner disciple of the Sacred Fire Palace. He wore a narrow-bladed dagger at his waist and gave off a dangerous, almost viper-like air. Unlike most Sacred Flame followers who practiced the standard Earthfire Roaming Technique, his cultivation stemmed from a more obscure and ruthless method called the Bewitching Flame Mind Art. People who studied this skill were typically bloodthirsty, so the others kept their distance.
The four men sat on either side of the hall, leaving the seat of honor empty. Yan Mu exchanged a glance with Mu Hua, who quietly explained, “The Sacred Fire Palace is sending an elder to join us.”
Yan Mu frowned. “Elder Zhu?”
Mu Hua smiled. “Exactly.”
Before they could say more, a hulking figure in crimson robes emerged from the rear of the hall and dropped into the highest seat with a heavy thud. Immediately, the other four rose and greeted him in unison, “Greetings, Elder Zhu.”
“Ha! Sit, all of you, sit!” the red-robed elder boomed with a hearty laugh, slapping the arm of the chair. “We’re all allies here, no need for so much formality.”
He then turned to Mu Hua with an easy familiarity. “Mu Hua, your Holy Tree Temple’s Elder Hua, she didn’t die at the hands of that red lotus traitor, did she?”
Mu Hua stood. “Elder Hua is alive and well.”
“Ahahaha!” Elder Zhu cackled. “Good, good. I couldn’t beat her back in the day. Tell her to be ready; I plan to trample her under my feet next time we fight!”
Mu Hua just kept his silence, though the expression on his face said it all.
Not far away, Yuan Zongzi—the odd, snake-like Sacred Fire Palace disciple—looked away, clearly embarrassed by his elder’s outburst. Elder Zhu caught the glance and barked, “What’s that look for? Are you secretly calling me a brute?”
“I wouldn’t dare,” Yuan Zongzi replied quietly.
“Like hell you wouldn’t,” Elder Zhu retorted. “I’ve never liked you fancy types who carry such puny blades.”
Yuan Zongzi deadpanned, “If it displeases you, Elder, you’re welcome to speak to Elder Hong.”
“I’ll stomp him too!” Elder Zhu snarled.
Yuan Zongzi only gripped his narrow blade and stared off into space, ignoring his rant.
Mu Hua, Yan Mu, and Shan Baishou merely exchanged knowing chuckles. It was rumoured the Sacred Fire Palace’s upper ranks were split between sinister schemers and hotheaded bruisers. They clearly bore no true malice toward others; it was just their nature, likely due to the fiery cultivation method they practiced. After all, reaching the fifth rank was no small feat. Anyone who made it that far was no mindless brute.
In the midst of all the banter, clamorous voices suddenly rose outside.