On the rooftop of the Li residence, under a sky painted with twilight hues, San Shao sat casually on the ridge, his gaze distant, his voice low and magnetic as he narrated a tale from a life long past.
Beside him, one to his left, one to his right, sat Li Xiaoye and Du Xiaoyan—two girls in the spring of their youth, cheeks resting in their palms, enraptured by the cadence of his words.
It was a story titled Happy Heroes, but under San Shao's telling, it bore a soft sorrow. And that sorrow, like a mysterious fragrance in the dusk, seeped into the hearts of the two young girls, drawing them in with irresistible power. They laughed when the tale turned light, and felt their eyes sting when it grew heavy.
"Yu Linglong said, 'I am the last of the Yu family. If killing me fulfills your wish, then strike.'
The Dragon King of the Land stood silent for a long time before replying slowly, 'That was never my wish.'
'No?' Yu Linglong asked.
The Dragon King said coolly, 'It was merely something I once said.'
'And every word you speak, you follow through?'
'Only this one... I have yet to fulfill.'"
San Shao's voice trailed off. His gaze drifted, clouded with a rare melancholy.
Li Xiaoye, lost in the story, asked softly, "Did he kill her? That last promise—did he fulfill it?"
San Shao didn't answer at once. He looked at the two girls beside him and said calmly, "Yu Linglong didn't die."
Du Xiaoyan cheered, clapping her hands. "I knew it! The story's called Happy Heroes, it has to end happily!"
"Yes… Happy Heroes," San Shao nodded, his voice wistful. "Who says heroes must always be lonely? The world is full of joyful heroes. Too bad... I am not one of them."
He gave a short, bitter laugh.
"Heroes... what even is a hero? Is it one who climbs atop a mountain of bones, victorious and alone? That's no hero—that's a warlord. A tyrant. A butcher. A true hero fights for his people, for justice, for the world. But me?" He smiled darkly. "I've never had the heart for others. I was born selfish, self-serving. I've never cared for frost on another's roof. I'm not a hero. I'm the general who builds victory on a thousand corpses!"
He rose slowly—graceful, yet heavy with intent.
In that moment, the two girls felt a sudden illusion. It wasn't San Shao who stood—it was a mountain, vast and unshakable, rising out of nothingness with a majesty that demanded reverence.
Then they felt it.
Blood. A scent so thick it stung the air, choked the lungs. The mountain turned to bone, its peaks white with skulls, its slopes red with blood flowing like rivers.
They couldn't see his face—but if they had, they would have seen them: the Asura Eyes. That terrifying, hell-bound gaze that chilled the soul.
Raising both arms to the heavens, San Shao spoke each word like a thunderclap:
"The Dragon King failed to fulfill one vow.
But I—Qin Ren—vow that every word I speak from this day forth…
I shall make real!"
"I will kill Ximen Wudi. I will destroy the Demon Sect!"
"I will claim the world and turn the Great Qin Empire into my pasture!"
"Wherever my finger points, enemies shall kneel. Those who do not… shall be trampled beneath my iron cavalry!"
"From this moment forward, my martial path shall be called The Emperor's Decree!"
"When the Decree is unleashed, none in this world shall dare disobey!"
His proclamation echoed through the empty rooftop, shaking the air. Only two girls had heard it—each reacting in their own way.
Du Xiaoyan's admiration deepened, her affection bordering on devotion.
Li Xiaoye, too, was shaken. She recalled last night, when Qin Ren had held her tight in defiance of Ximen Wudi's threat, whispering something that made her heart tremble.
It was all so perfect.
Until he opened his mouth again.
"And finally… I will have every beauty in the world surrender beneath my golden spear! I will conquer the realm—and build the greatest harem the world has ever seen!"
There was a moment of stunned silence.
Then, thud! thud!
Two slender legs lashed out, each kicking him cleanly on either side of his rear. San Shao became a human tumbleweed, rolling off the rooftop, his cries fading into the distance—
"Hey! That's cheating—!"
In the courtyard behind the house, Qin Feng stood motionless, hands behind his back, eyes locked on the Slanted Moon Seven-Star Sword embedded before him.
Under the veranda stood three aging warriors—Liu Duanhun, Nu Hengmei, and Xiao Tianci—shoulders hunched, breath held, watching him from afar.
Jo Wei walked in slowly, hands clasped behind his back, and asked with a frown, "How long has the young master been standing there?"
"Since dawn," Liu Duanhun replied. "He hasn't moved an inch."
Jo Wei sighed. "Looks like it's going to be another day like the last two—standing from sunrise to sunset."
Nu Hengmei's voice was low with worry. "The young master's never tasted defeat. At fifteen, he bested every swordsman under heaven. By twenty-one, he grasped the Heavenly Sword realm. But in his duel with Ximen Wudi that night, his full-powered strike didn't even touch him—and instead struck down an innocent. That kind of failure... it may be too much for him to bear."
Jo Wei nodded. "Success without struggle breeds arrogance. This might be the lesson he needs. If he can weather it, his sword will reach new heights."
Xiao Tianci's voice was firm. "He will. His will is strong. But my concern lies with the upcoming Martial Summit. If Ximen Wudi appears again…"
Liu Duanhun's face darkened. "His 'Slayer Sword'—no one in the world can survive that strike. Jo Wei, you've studied the Demonic Arts. Tell us—can he be stopped?"
Jo Wei was silent for a long moment. Then slowly said, "Ten years ago, Ximen Wudi had only mastered five levels of the Mind of Annihilation, and four layers of the Slayer Codex. Even then, he could fight me to a standstill. Now? He's perfected all nine layers of the Mind, and seven of the Codex. He's... truly invincible."
"Then what you're saying is—we can't kill him?" Xiao Tianci asked grimly.
Jo Wei nodded. "His ultimate technique—Dissolve into Void—lets him escape even from an army. Defeating him might be possible. Killing him? Even with all our power combined—it may not be."
"Impossible!" Nu Hengmei bellowed. "With the Manor Lord, Iron Fortress Master, Young and Third Master, us three, you, and Old Li—that's nine peak experts! No one could survive that!"
Jo Wei sighed. "Maybe. But that movement technique... not one of us saw how he arrived. If he chooses to flee, who among us can even see him, let alone stop him?"
A voice floated in from the shadows. "Perhaps the Asura Eyes can."
They all turned. Uncle Li emerged, flask in hand.
Jo Wei's eyes lit up. "Palace tribute wine?"
"Tastes like it," Uncle Li grinned. "Little Xiaoyan showed me where the old zither was stored. Never thought I'd find this treasure instead."
Xiao Tianci frowned. "Uncle Li, you said the Asura Eyes can see him? What do you mean?"
Uncle Li blinked. "You didn't know? San Shao has the Asura Eyes."
The three warlords stared. "Is that true?"
"Of course," Uncle Li shrugged. "I'm not in the habit of making things up. You three raised the boy and never noticed?"
The three looked at each other, speechless. Indeed—they'd never seen it. Qin Ren had always been spoiled. The Asura Eyes only awakened in moments of bloodlust. And none of them had ever seen him that angry…
Liu Duanhun muttered, "Could it be… the prophecy of Tai Gong Wang… refers to him?"