The city of Dingzhou, once destined to host a celebration of martial harmony, now simmered like a cauldron of tension and bloodlust. What began as a "Spring Garden Martial Meet" had turned into an all-out Slaughter Conference. From all corners of the jianghu, sects and clans gathered under banners of righteousness—but the air reeked of betrayal, ambition, and something darker still.
Somewhere in the shadows, the grand puppeteer of this deadly drama was quietly preparing the next act—the prelude to a game of thrones that would shake the realm.
And caught in the eye of this storm? The infamous, incorrigible, and unrepentantly lewd Third Young Master. Reinforcements had arrived for him, yes—but so had new enemies. Encircled on all sides, wounded and mocked by fate, how would the carefree scoundrel of the martial world respond?
More importantly—could this cheeky rogue possibly bluff his way into being the ultimate romantic hero?
All of this, and more, hurtled toward the climax of our saga's first arc.
But enough of the teasing. You know why I'm really writing this, don't you?
TICKETS. VOTES. SUPPORT.
How else is an author supposed to stay motivated?
"How is it, Wei-ge? Anyone tailing us?"
"Nope. Those three women are gone. Didn't spot any suspicious figures either."
"Good. Now turn that corner—yeah, that one—and duck into that alley. Move faster, damn it. I'm in real pain here… Damn that sword! My golden silk vest blocked Qin Nier's palm just fine, but Lianzhou Luo'er's stab? That hit me for real—right through the shoulder! And this so-called invincible armor is more like a crop-top—it doesn't even cover the shoulders! Tsss… Be gentle, will you?"
Jo Wei helped prop up the Third Young Master as they slipped into a quiet back alley. The street was deserted save for a couple of stray cats rummaging through trash. The Young Master slumped against the wall, gritting his teeth as he sucked in sharp breaths.
Jo Wei laid a silk scarf on the ground, helped him sit, then pulled out a pair of scissors to cut away the blood-soaked fabric around the wound.
As he snipped, Jo Wei's face lit up. "Young Master, that performance just now? Spectacular! The expression, the timing, the blood spray—I swear, it looked more real than real!"
"Of course!" the Third Young Master grinned smugly. "I've watched hundreds of movies and TV dramas. Back in university, I was in the drama club. Participated in the Student Theatre Festival three years in a row, always played the villain, and always snagged Best Supporting Actor. Heh heh…"
After a moment of basking in his own glory, he sighed. "But that blood spray? That was real. I planned to use fake blood—tomato juice—but that damn sword aura pierced my lungs. Couldn't help it, ended up coughing up the real stuff… Tsss—hey! Be gentle! Didn't you see the gaping hole in my shoulder? Want me to stab you and see how it feels?"
Jo Wei chuckled. "No need, Young Master. I've taken my fair share of stabs in my time. Thirty years in the jianghu, you know. But seriously—what's a 'movie'? Or a 'university'?"
"Ah, a movie is like a… traveling troupe performance. But filmed. And university? Just a big scam, really. A private organization that takes your money and teaches you how to pretend. Hey, wanna join? Just fifty thousand taels! I'm a lifetime member—I can recommend you!"
"Heh heh, I'll pass. Barely got fifty taels to rub together…" Jo Wei finally peeled back the cloth. The wound was ugly—a ragged X-shaped gash, the flesh torn by the backward hooks on the tip of Lianzhou's sword.
"Damn, that sword's bloodletting design is top-tier. It's still gushing like a fountain!"
"Enough admiration, Wei-ge! You're not here to admire craftsmanship—stop the bleeding! Use the best hemostatic powder I've got. I've got loads!"
The Third Young Master pulled out a medicine pouch from his robe and handed it over. It was stuffed with all sorts of vials and packets: some for healing, others for inner strength, yet others with… less noble purposes. Aphrodisiacs, sleeping powders, paralyzing agents—you name it.
Jo Wei stared at the pouch in awe. "Young Master, you running a pharmacy or what? This is impressive. Problem is—I've got the medicine, but no tools. How am I supposed to stitch this up? And I never learned acupressure."
"…Wait, what? You're one of the Four Demonic Lords, and you don't know acupressure?!"
Jo Wei scratched his head sheepishly. "I, uh, kinda slacked off as a kid. Acupressure's no joke—it takes decades to master, and you need killer finger techniques to make it useful. The few who perfect it? They spend their whole lives doing nothing else."
The Young Master thought about it and reluctantly agreed. His own acupressure skills were rudimentary at best. He could barely poke the right points on himself, let alone someone else.
"So what now? We have to stop the bleeding!"
"If I just sprinkle the powder without sealing the wound, it might stop the blood… but you'll end up healing into a hideous scar."
Jo Wei hesitated. It wasn't that he cared if the Young Master got disfigured—it was the blame afterward he didn't want to shoulder.
Just as they were bickering, a cool, gentle voice cut in.
"I'll stitch the wound."
The Young Master froze. That voice—it couldn't be!
At the entrance of the alley stood a woman in white, her robes fluttering like snow in the breeze. Her long hair spilled past her waist, untouched by the filth of the world.
Step by step, she walked toward them, her eyes gentle, yet calm as a lake.
Jo Wei looked at her, then at the stunned Third Young Master, and chuckled. Silently, he stepped aside.
Truth was, he'd spotted her shadowing them earlier, but hadn't raised alarm. Had she meant harm, he was confident he could kill her in three moves. But now it was clear—her intentions weren't hostile.
"…Mei-jie? You… you came?" The Third Young Master's voice trembled with disbelief.
Indeed, the woman in white was Qiu Ruomei.
Back at a restaurant near the headquarters of Snowdrift Hall, she'd overheard whispers of scandal—how the Third Young Master had fallen from grace, branded a heretic, and hunted by every sect in the realm. Alarmed, she had rushed north from Jiangnan, tracking him tirelessly until she reached Dingzhou.
She had arrived just in time to see him wounded by Qin Nier and Luo'er. Though she'd nearly drawn her blade in vengeance, she had noticed the faint lip movement of the Young Master—an unspoken signal. She held back.
Now, seeing his very real injuries, her heart ached. Gently, she knelt beside him, cleaning the blood from his wound and softly blowing on it.
The Third Young Master breathed in her faint fragrance, her breath warm against his skin, and for once—he felt something flutter within him.
"Mei-jie, how did you find me? I thought… I thought you'd forgotten me." His voice was soft, tinged with guilt and longing.
"No talking," she scolded gently. "You're badly hurt. Don't act like a child."
"I'm fine, really. Just a little scratch." He grinned. "Actually, I did it on purpose. Had to fake an injury. If not, with my Heaven-Covering Palm, those girls couldn't touch me in a hundred years—cough, cough…"
His bravado was cut short by a bloody cough.
"Still insisting?" she sighed, wiping his mouth. "That girl's attack injured your lungs."
She took out a shimmering pearl-like pill. "Swallow this."
He did, and a cool sensation spread through his chest, soothing the burn within.
"Wow… that's good stuff! Mei-jie, your medicine's amazing!"
"It's the Snow Mountain Sect's sacred wound medicine. I only have one. Don't you dare waste it again. Honestly… throwing your life away over a performance?" she chided, then added softly, "Still… it's not like it compares to your revival pills."
She prepared her needle and thread. He grinned again.
"Mei-jie, your life is worth more than mine. I'm just a nobody—ow ow ow!"
She'd begun stitching.
"Still mouthing off?" she chided. "Keep still. It'll be over soon."
Her fingers moved like flowing water, each stitch precise despite the irregular shape of the wound. Even Jo Wei couldn't help but marvel.
"Amazing… That's the Heaven-Stitched Needle Technique! No wonder Snow Mountain Sect is famous for tailoring. Even their wound stitching is flawless! Miss, if you ever retire from the martial world, open a tailor shop—or a clinic. You'll be rich in no time."
The Young Master groaned. "Wei-ge, are you praising her or insulting her?"
Jo Wei laughed sheepishly and shut up.
Once the wound was closed and medicine applied, Qiu Ruomei went to wrap the bandage. While searching the Young Master's medicine pouch, she found certain items and sighed.
"Really now… 'Ten Miles of Passion,' 'Lustful Harmony Powder,' 'I Love Big Sticks'—Ah Ren, what am I going to do with you?"
The Third Young Master grinned sheepishly and wisely kept quiet.
As she wrapped the final knot, Qiu Ruomei turned to Jo Wei and said with a rare smile, "This needlework… it's not just for clothes."