— Where Sunlight Ends, Blood and Secrets Begin —
Qin Feng lazily leaned against the edge of the carriage door, a wide straw hat drooping low over his brow. He gave the reins a light flick and cracked the whip with a flourish. A sharp snap rang through the air, and the horses trotted forward again at a steady pace.
Behind the carriage, three old men hunched on their stubborn little donkeys, rocking unsteadily with each step, following in leisurely fashion.
Suddenly, the carriage curtain lifted, revealing a face that could rival the splendor of spring. A lovely girl peeked out, glanced behind, and stuck out her tongue with a playful pout.
"Young Master Qin," she called out, "why are those people behind us just standing there like statues? Don't they know they might get trampled?"
Qin Feng chuckled. "They've made a mistake. I'm making them reflect on it. Standing under the sun for a while should help them think it over."
Another equally charming face appeared beside the first, voice crisp and curious. "Big Brother Qin, how far are we from Dingzhou?"
"Not far," he replied. "About thirty li. We'll get there before sunset. What's the rush? Eager to see little Third?"
Both girls blushed in unison. "What nonsense are you talking about? Aren't you supposed to be the mature elder brother?"
Qin Feng grinned. "Alright, Yue'er, Piaopiao, go back inside. Since you're both in such a hurry, I'll speed things up. Hyah!"
With a roar like spring thunder, the so-called Sword Saint of the Star River cracked his whip again. The startled horses neighed and burst into a gallop, the carriage jolting wildly behind them.
Inside, the girls screamed and yanked their heads back in, their voices full of mock annoyance. "Big Brother Qin, you're doing this on purpose! Just wait till we tell Ah Ren—you're going to be in trouble!"
Qin Feng didn't answer. He simply laughed heartily, lashing the reins again, driving the horses faster.
Strangely, the three donkeys didn't fall behind either. Despite their unremarkable appearance, they suddenly bolted, galloping alongside the carriage as if they'd grown wings, refusing to be left behind.
Far behind them, under the relentless afternoon sun, the twenty-five men led by Ji Wuhua remained frozen in fighting stances, weapons raised.
Suddenly, fine red lines appeared across their necks, all at once.
"This… this isn't a sword technique of this world…" Ji Wuhua's eyes bulged in disbelief.
Schlick—! A chorus of gory fountains erupted from the bloodlines at their throats. Twenty-five geysers of blood spurted into the air, and with a grotesque flourish, twenty-five heads were flung high like balls tossed by invisible hands…
Dingzhou was unusually crowded that day.
The reason was simple—the Grand Martial Assembly, scheduled to begin in just ten days, would be held fifteen li outside the city at the sprawling Tianping Villa.
Though the villa's grounds were vast, it lacked the capacity to accommodate all the attendees. Only the elites—those with status and power—were afforded rooms within the villa. The rest, including disciples of lesser rank or independent wanderers, were directed to stay in town.
Of course, not all experts liked to mingle. Some preferred the anonymity of city inns, finding the bustle of Tianping Villa distasteful or inconvenient, especially if they had something—or someone—to hide.
As a result, business boomed in Dingzhou's inns and taverns, and the city's streets buzzed with all manner of martial artists.
But for Dingzhou's petty thieves and cutpurses, it was a nightmare.
Stealing from beggars was easy. From warriors? Suicidal.
Those foolish enough to lift a purse from the wrong person were often caught red-handed. If they were lucky, they got a beating. If not… well, they'd be gifted a swift death, served in eight precise pieces.
So, oddly enough, Dingzhou was now both the safest and most dangerous place in the empire.
The local pickpockets had gone into hiding, but the martial visitors were another story. With blades on their hips and tempers as sharp as their weapons, they roamed the city like cats in heat.
Bloodshed often came without warning. A careless bump, a wrong glance, or even claiming the best seat in a tavern could erupt into a brawl—sometimes one that reduced entire establishments to rubble. The local guards and constables were powerless; the few who had martial skill could manage a conversation, but most could only watch from a distance, helpless.
Some visitors were especially secretive, avoiding Tianping Villa to keep a low profile. Many of them had assets—hidden properties, safehouses, or businesses in Dingzhou, to conceal their presence and movements.
Qin Feng was clearly one such individual.
Though the Xiaoyao Villa hadn't extended its power far into the northern regions, Qin Feng's maternal uncle, Tie Kongshan, controlled the nearby Ironblood Howling Fortress. The Tie family had substantial holdings in Dingzhou: tens of thousands of acres of farmland outside the city, a gold and silver shop, a rice store, and a teahouse inside.
And like all wealthy clans, they had a mansion in the city's best district. The Tie family estate stood grand and imposing in northern Dingzhou, towering above the surrounding residences.
Qin Feng, being frugal to a fault, would never pay to stay at an inn. Fortunately, unlike their reckless younger brother Qin Ren, both Qin Feng and Qin Lei were models of restraint—otherwise, even the Xiaoyao Villa's coffers would've long run dry.
With his credentials from both the Qin and Tie families, Qin Feng entered the estate and quickly took up residence with the girls and the three old men.
As for why Third Young Master hadn't come here—it was simple. Having just stepped into the martial world, he had no idea the Tie family even owned property in Dingzhou.
The caretaker of the estate, upon recognizing the eldest nephew of the house, welcomed him with great deference, immediately sending word to Tie Kongshan.
The fortress wasn't far. A fast horse could deliver the message within a day.
And upon receiving it, Tie Kongshan wasted no time, dispatching his son and daughter to Dingzhou at once.
Tie Jian, age twenty-four, was a towering man of heroic presence. Like his father, he was broad-shouldered and immensely strong. He had inherited seven-tenths of the legendary "Ironshaping Hand" technique—but remained modest and low-profile, never venturing into the limelight of the martial world.
His sister, Tie Xuanxuan, was just eighteen. A bold and straightforward northern lass with exceptional talent in martial arts, she was, unfortunately, barred from learning the family's masculine inner techniques. Instead, she apprenticed under the famed Mr. Jie Dianxue, said to be the greatest pressure-point master in the world.
Rumor had it that Jie Dianxue could strike acupuncture points from three zhang away with nothing but finger wind. Tie Xuanxuan had already achieved the impressive feat of striking from one zhang.
The siblings dropped everything and sped toward Dingzhou the moment they received their father's summons—for the letter had ended with one cryptic line:
"Little Third may already be in Dingzhou."
But Qin Feng wasn't the only one moving through the shadows.
Others, hidden actors with their own dark purposes, were also converging—some slipping into the city unnoticed, others embedding themselves like knives behind curtains.
This Grand Martial Assembly would not just be the most prestigious in the empire's history… it would also be the darkest, riddled with secrets, betrayal, and blood.
And the first threads of conspiracy were already unraveling.
At the edge of the city stood a quiet little silk shop, barely noticeable: Xingyuan Silk House.
The shop's owner was a mystery. Rumor had it he was absent for ten months out of every year. Even when he was in town, he kept to the back rooms, seldom seen. The shop's daily affairs were handled by an aging yet capable manager.
To his peers, the true master of Xingyuan was known only as "Young Master Yu."
At that very moment, Young Master Yu sat leisurely in the rear pavilion of the shop, sipping iced plum wine while enjoying the fiery glow of a summer sunset.
Suddenly, the manager burst in along a path lined with smooth stones. Though nearing sixty, the old man moved with swift, silent grace, a clear sign of refined lightness skill.
He bowed deeply, at a full ninety degrees. "Master, there's a young girl outside asking for you. She carries your token."
"What token?" Yu asked without lifting his head.
"A jade ring engraved on the inner wall with an eagle's feather."
Yu raised a brow. "Oh? Luo'er? How did she know I was in Dingzhou?"
He glanced at the manager again—and frowned. "You're sweating? And… is that a nosebleed?"
The old man looked flustered. "Forgive me, Master. That girl… she's… she's too beautiful. Like a walking disaster for mortal men. I only used a light palm breeze to lift her veil… and one glance was enough…"
Young Master Yu roared with laughter. "Fool! A born enchantress like her isn't someone you can peek at without consequence. That charm—only saints of pure heart can resist! Bring her in. If she's here, she must have important news."