The girl in black walked deeper into the alley, where occasional households had hung festive scarlet lanterns. Unlike others, this veiled girl had no meticulously arranged family background, no hidden threads stretching thousands of miles—she was alone, a solitary figure stepping into this town.
Not far ahead stood a youth in brocade robes, holding aloft a jade seal of bluish hue, about the size of a child's palm. Dragons and tigers were carved upon it, and under the sunlight, it shimmered with radiant brilliance. Wisps of rosy light seemed to glow faintly from within. The youth gazed upon the ancient treasure with half-closed eyes, utterly entranced.
Beside him, an elderly man of towering build knelt on one knee, meticulously wiping the mud from the young man's boots with his sleeve. Though the youth's attention seemed fully absorbed by the seal, the corner of his eye had long noticed the strange girl approaching—a light-fringed veil on her head, a narrow-bladed saber in a green scabbard at her side, her steps measured and composed. Clearly, she was no local.
Yet the youth remained unconcerned, still admiring the ancient seal, silent for millennia. In fact, he almost wished the girl would harbor some greedy thought—anything to relieve the tedium. He had already acquired two priceless treasures, far exceeding expectations. Without some excitement, he and his old servant might as well leave. Something still felt missing. Like that grand golden robe with nine dragons he wore back home—regal and splendid, but always one claw short.
Every chosen visitor to this town could bring three token coins, sealed in embroidered pouches. One must be handed over at the gate, a toll required regardless of status—even kings or sect patriarchs must comply. The other two allowed the bearer to leave with at most two treasures. Take more, and all must be returned, no matter how many were seized.
These so-called "coins" were of rare golden essence: one, a celebratory charm used by common folk during house-raisings; another, a palace coin hung during the spring festival; the third, an offering coin held in the statue of a City God. To commoners below the mountains, even official silver was rarely seen, let alone a pouch of shining "gold." It was enough to make one sell off their ancestral heirlooms willingly.
The youth had studied these three unrecorded coins all along the journey, yet their true purpose eluded him.
Ahead, the cold and solemn girl strode forward as if the pair in the alley didn't exist. The youth suddenly changed his mind, tucked the jade seal into a cloth pouch at his waist, but remained in the alley's center, blocking the way.
The white-skinned, tall old man also rose to his feet. His voice was soft and feminine as he murmured,"Your Highness, this girl is clearly a trained martial artist. She's no one to underestimate. Outside this town, she'd pose little threat—but here, even my purely martial body struggles under the world's constant suppression. If I were to unleash my full strength, it would be like the sea flooding through opened gates—unstoppable, devastating. Should I die, it matters little. But if Your Highness's grand path of cultivation suffers the slightest mishap due to my failure, how shall I answer to the Emperor and Her Majesty?"
The youth smirked mischievously,"Grandpa Wu, ever since leaving the palace, you've grown rather chatty. Back in the court, you repeated the same few lines all year round—worse than my sister's dull parrot."
The old man, referring to himself in the humble imperial form, carried subservience in his bones and took pride in it—a sign of unwavering loyalty, a true eunuch of the inner court. Seeing the young master failing to grasp his hidden warning, he spoke more plainly:"Your Highness, this girl may already pose a real threat."
The youth replied lazily,"Though I've long heard tales of the chaotic and mixed paths among cultivators, of shady sects and unorthodox ways, can this really be one of them? A passing encounter, and she'd already draw her blade for treasure and blood? That seems unlikely. If everyone from the 'mountains above' acted so, wouldn't the world have long descended into anarchy?"
The old man sighed. Between the mortal empires below and the cultivators above, there was an uneasy, silent loathing masked by courtesy.
Disheartened, the youth muttered,"Forget it, forget it. Pinning blame on a mere girl—what kind of man would I be?"
The girl stopped before him, her left hand resting on her sword hilt. The youth gave a faint smile and stepped aside, gesturing for her to pass. She slowed slightly, turning just enough to keep watch—her eyes behind the veil filled with wary caution.
The old eunuch, noticing her injured hands wrapped in cotton, frowned deeply.
"Insolence!"
His sudden shout cracked like thunder. In a blur, he slid forward and shielded the youth with his back against the wall, his left hand spreading open.
A muffled thud echoed—a stone, flung as a hidden weapon, had been aimed at the youth's temple. Its force nearly strong enough to pierce a wall. The old man crushed the pebble in his palm, then turned not toward the attacker—but launched a powerful punch at the girl.
The sword-bearing girl hesitated briefly, suppressing her instinct to draw, and tilted her head just enough to dodge the heavy blow. The sheer force of the punch sent wind tearing through her veil.
The elder's punch turned fluid, sweeping sideways with terrifying momentum. The girl quickly raised her arms, crossing them in front of her ears in a defensive "X" posture. She was sent skidding more than ten steps away.
She exhaled a breath of turbid air, adjusted the slanted veil with her blood-soaked hand. Her expression turned grim.
She turned and looked squarely at the elder, who had glanced about for the hidden attacker."If not for me, you'd already be a corpse," she said plainly.
The elder ignored her. His years of experience told him the greater threat was no longer the girl, but the unknown figure who had struck from the shadows.
Indeed, aside from the master and servant, there were only two true outsiders here.
At the far end of the alley stood a tall, thin man in a mask. His arms were grotesquely muscular, veins like iron cords. At his waist hung two bulging sacks filled with round objects. He stood motionless, as if to say: the ambush was merely a warning.
His cold eyes lingered on the girl, and when they did, he licked his lips with a smirk, eyes burning.
The girl chuckled and uttered two words:"Come back."
At that moment—A sword flashed over her head.
A flying sword arrived by her side, spinning swiftly around her like a spoiled child. She scolded it irritably,"Scram."
The sword vanished in a blink.
The master and servant stood dumbfounded.
The old eunuch was not shocked by the swordsmanship itself, but by the girl's ability to control a flying sword freely in this place. It filled him with a primal fear—like that first time as a trembling youth, glimpsing a crimson-robed elder gliding past the palace walls.
Of course, it wasn't reverence for that nameless figure…