Guo Jiang looked toward the four-story Prosperity Store and then at the people gathered along the street. Before doing anything else, he told everyone to move away from the building and ordered the remaining employees inside to leave through the nearest exits. The command spread quickly because no one wanted to discover what a hidden expert intended to do after defeating city soldiers with controlled qi. Employees abandoned counters and upper-floor displays, while customers hurried outside carrying only their personal belongings and leaving store merchandise behind. Wan Huang tried to stop several employees as they fled. He shouted that the building was safe and ordered them back to their posts, but fear had already broken the authority that his ownership once gave him. Guo Jiang waited until the doorway, upper windows, and side passages were clear. He extended his perception through the structure long enough to identify

Late afternoon settled softly over the right wing of Shangguan Mansion, where the garden paths lay quiet beneath the shade of old trees and carved stone lanterns. Shangguan Zan sat in a phoenix-and-dragon chair beside his wife, while a trained tea servant completed another careful round of Gongfu service without disturbing the measured calm of the room. The Pu'er tea had been brought from southwestern Logun, where the darker fermented leaves commanded prices that ordinary wealthy households would hesitate to pay. For the Shangguan Clan, however, the tea was part of an everyday ritual, served with Osmanthus cakes as casually as lesser families might pour common leaf brew for visiting relatives. That comfort said more about the clan's position than any boast. Shangguan interests touched several of Jinhung City's most profitable trades, and servants within the mansion had learned to move with the quiet discipline expected in a household where w

The Shangguan spokesman rested one hand beside the rolled portrait and waited until the remaining whispers faded. Armed men and women filled the right-wing hall, yet the silence that followed carried less obedience than calculation, because everyone wanted to know what kind of payment could justify summoning so many Jianghu professionals for one target. "The task is simple to state," the spokesman said. "Find the man shown in this portrait, eliminate him, and bring his head to Shangguan Mansion as proof." Several guests exchanged glances, but no one reacted strongly until the spokesman continued. "The reward is one hundred pure emeralds and one hundred pure sapphires, all from Huang Mountain in eastern Logun." The response moved through the hall in layers. A young treasure hunter began counting under his breath, while an assassin near the rear frowned instead of reaching for his cup. A broad-faced ma

The old carriage left the busier roads behind as Wen Ju guided the horse beyond Willow Forest. Traffic thinned to almost nothing as the road narrowed between two rising walls of stone. Inside, Guo Jiang noticed the change before sensing anything hostile. The wheels echoed sharply against the cliffs, and the road offered few places to turn without losing speed. Wen Ju seemed unaware of any danger. He kept the horse at a steady pace and occasionally clicked his tongue when the animal slowed over rougher ground. High above, Rong Cui watched the carriage enter the pass. He did not move immediately, because impatience ruined ambushes as easily as weak technique. Mui Miao crouched behind a prepared stone on the opposite ridge. Her eyes followed the carriage roof with growing intensity, while one hand rested on the rock and the other stayed close to her sword. Farther ahead, Cheng Hzi s

Rong Cui forced himself upright with one hand pressed against his chest. The qi that had entered through the hemp rope still disturbed his breathing, and when he coughed, a dark trace of blood touched his lips before he wiped it away with the back of his hand. Mui Miao rose more slowly. Her sword arm trembled when she reached for the weapon lying in the road, and the numbness running from her fingers toward her shoulder made the simple act of gripping the hilt far more difficult than she wanted either man to notice. Cheng Hzi was already standing, though his face had lost much of its color. He looked toward the old carriage disappearing farther down the narrow road, then back at the two companions who had traveled with him since childhood. "Who is that man?" Rong Cui asked. His voice was quieter than before because the question carried more weight than anger. "We attacked together, and I still could not read his cultivat