2025-08-10 08:51:42The air in the Huang Clan's main hall was as heavy as unshed rain.
Huang Jianshu, the master of the clan, sat in the high seat carved from dark ironwood, his brow a knot of worry. Beside him, his wife, Liu Wanqing, twisted a silk handkerchief in her hands, her beautiful face pale. Before them knelt a clan subordinate, his head bowed low as he delivered his report.
"...the bodies of the fifteen assailants have been examined, my Lord. They carried no emblems, no identifying marks. We cross-referenced their faces with the records of every known demonic sect and assassin organization. There were no matches."
The subordinate swallowed nervously before continuing. "It is stranger still, my Lord. Their meridians show signs of vicious, accelerated cultivation, and their bodies are saturated with at least a dozen different kinds of latent poisons. It is as if they were not born, but forged. Raised in secret, like ghosts, for the sole purpose of being disposable weapons for a very powerful master."
Huang Jianshu's hands, resting on the arms of his chair, clenched into tight fists. A clan of assassins with no history? A force that could raise such killers in the shadows and discard them without a second thought? The implications were terrifying. His daughter had walked into a meticulously planned deathtrap. A wave of cold fear washed over him, a father's fear that momentarily eclipsed the clan master's fury.
"But... the report said she was safe," Liu Wanqing whispered, her voice trembling. "It said someone saved her."
"Yes, my Lady," the subordinate affirmed, his head still bowed. "When all hope seemed lost, a single man intervened. He... he neutralized all fifteen assailants single-handedly. Lady Lianxue and the others are safe and have returned to the clan compound. She is resting now."
A collective sigh of relief, however faint, passed through the hall.
"This man," Huang Jianshu began, his voice strained. "This savior. Who is he?"
"We do not know his origin, my Lord. Lady Lianxue knows him only by the name Li Qingyan. He claims to be a simple wanderer." The subordinate paused, then added the most crucial detail. "He is young, dressed in white robes with hair like ink. And his eyes, my Lord... they are a unique, brilliant green."
Green eyes.
The words echoed in Huang Jianshu's mind, striking a chord deep within his memory. It was not a memory of a person, but of a story. A passage from a dusty, seldom-read scripture he had stumbled upon in the clan library as a curious boy. The personal chronicle of their First Ancestor.
The text described a time, nearly a thousand years ago, when the Huang Clan was nothing but a fledgling family, and the First Ancestor himself was cornered by three powerful enemies. He was about to be slain when a figure had appeared from nowhere. A peerless expert of unimaginable power. The scripture did not record his name, only a brief, awestruck description: "...a young man with eyes like emeralds, whose power was as vast as the heavens themselves. With but a wave of his hand, my enemies were turned to dust..."
The final page of the scripture was filled with the First Ancestor's regret. He had searched for the green-eyed man for the rest of his life, hoping to repay the life-saving debt, but had never seen him again. The man had vanished as mysteriously as he had appeared.
Over the centuries, the story had become a myth. A legend to inspire the younger generation.
But what if it were true?
A man in white with green eyes, Huang Jianshu thought, his heart beginning to hammer in his chest. It cannot be him. A millennium has passed. But... a descendant? Could this Li Qingyan be a descendant of the legendary savior from the scripture? It must be so! The timing was too coincidental, the description too precise. This was a sign from the ancestors.
And at that very moment, the subject of the clan head's frantic speculation sat quietly in the opulent guest reception hall of the Huang Clan.
Li Qingyan sipped calmly from a cup of fragrant, high-quality tea, his gaze sweeping over the intricate carvings and expensive silks that decorated the room. He was unbothered, his posture relaxed. He was a guest, but he held the silent authority of a master in his own home.
The sound of hesitant footsteps approached. Zhang Jie, the arrogant junior brother, appeared at the doorway. His face was pale, his earlier bravado completely gone, replaced by a stiff, formal apprehension. He walked forward, stopped a respectful ten feet from Li Qingyan's table, and executed a deep, formal bow.
"Senior... Li," he began, his voice strained and barely above a whisper. "This one... this Zhang Jie... was blind, arrogant, and foolish. I failed to recognize a mountain and treated you with contempt. I offer my deepest, most sincere apologies for my grave disrespect in the tavern."
He remained bowed, waiting for a rebuke, a dismissal, or perhaps a demand for penance.
Li Qingyan slowly placed his teacup down, the soft click of porcelain on wood the only sound in the room. He looked at the trembling young man before him.
A faint, unreadable smile touched Li Qingyan’s lips. It was a smile that did not quite reach his jade-green eyes.
"Apology accepted," he said, his voice smooth and untroubled.
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Chapter 26: The Serene Smile of Death
The morning sun cast a bright, cheerful light over Jade River City, a light that held no hint of the darkness that had transpired during the night. At the Jade Pavilion restaurant, the staff began their daily chores. It was a junior waiter who first noticed something was amiss. The lavish private room on the top floor, the one booked by the dazzling Whispering Silks Troupe, had never been cleared.He knocked. There was no answer. He knocked again, louder this time. Silence. With a nervous gulp, he pushed the heavy door open.He did not scream. He was too shocked to make a sound.A wave of heat, thick and humid, washed over him. The air was heavy with a cloying, sickly-sweet and coppery scent that made him gag. The opulent room was a disaster. Overturned chairs, shattered plates, and silks were strewn everywhere. The floor was slick and wet, covered in spilled wine and condensation that clung to every surface.And then he saw the bodies.Scattered around the room were the beautiful dan
Chapter 25: The Price of a Vile Art
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Chapter 24: The Taste of a Lie
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Chapter 23: The Siren's Banquet
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