Twilight descended, the orange glow painting the horizon in hues of dawn. Ye City’s streets buzzed as lively as earlier, the clatter of hooves approaching. A pure white Night-Shining Jade Lion weaved through the crowd.
Ji Yanqing, clad in a four-clawed python robe, gripped the reins tightly. By general custom, such princely attire was for ceremonies or imperial audiences.
But Yanxia had no strict rule, and Ji Yanqing favored the robe’s sleek majesty. Plus, causing trouble in it reinforced his wastrel persona—a win-win.
That morning, he took Ji Qingyan shopping for New Year gifts. Maids, servants, retainers, and guards all needed gifts, but Auntie Xie’s required extra care.
Most gifts were nearly sorted, with the Bronze Sparrow Chamber delivering them to the Wei King’s Mansion. But his fake proposal to Su Ningyue at Weiyuan delayed him.
Auntie Xie’s gift was still unprepared, and with this year’s special circumstances, he owed Ji Qingyan one too.
As for Ningyue, he’d make it up after Lantern Festival. With things tense, if Xie found out, her cherry lips might nag him to death.
Pondering as he rode, Ji Yanqing reached a market lane in Ye City, a low-end spot for peddlers and hawkers, rich in variety.
Xie and Ji Qingyan valued sentiment over expense—gaudy jewels would be cliché.
As Canglan Goddess Chronicles’ starter village, Ye City might hide buried treasures.
Per past-life memories, a player once bought a Heaven-tier spirit weapon here for ten silver taels—less than Ji Yanqing’s tea at a pleasure house.
On his peerless steed, he scanned arrogantly, practically whipping people aside.
Crafting a wastrel image was tough: constant petty misdeeds to earn disdain, but nothing major to give his family’s court enemies leverage.
His apparent debauchery was tightly constrained.
The market sold snacks and trinkets, with a few stalls offering mundane weapons and techniques, not even Yellow-tier.
“Sigh!” Ji Yanqing shook his head, lamenting his luck, ready to try another street.
Before he could leave, a commotion reached his ears.
Following the noise, he saw ruffians harassing a frail girl in a white hooded cloak. Her face was obscured, but her profile resembled a painting’s fairy.
“Give me back my ginseng!” she said angrily, reaching for it, but the burly thug raised it higher, forcing her back.
“Pretty little thing, how about keeping us brothers company? Make us three happy, and we’ll return your ginseng,” he leered.
“I bought it for my father’s medicine! How can you be so shameless?” she stomped, helpless.
“Oh, you wouldn’t want your sick father to die, would you?” the thug smirked.
Ji Yanqing’s fists clenched. Harassing a girl on his turf? They were begging for death.
Her voice sounded familiar, but he didn’t dwell, dismounting and grabbing an iron sword from a stall.
The shopkeeper nearly cursed, but seeing Ji Yanqing’s face and python robe, he swallowed his words.
Moments later, two three-hundred-tael notes appeared—enough to buy the entire stall.
Ji Yanqing didn’t carry small change.
Pushing through the crowd, he tapped a ruffian’s shoulder.
“Who’s the blind fool? Can’t you see I’m busy—”
Before he finished, the thug froze, clutching his throat, blood seeping through his fingers, eyes bulging in terror at the python-robed youth. He stumbled back and collapsed, blood pooling into the stone cracks.
One sword, one throat—clean and swift.
The backstreet fell silent.
The two surviving ruffians paled, trembling, too scared to breathe.
“Harassing women in Ye City? Bold,” Ji Yanqing said, wiping blood from the sword with two fingers. A flash of sword light took both their heads, blood spraying.
Thunderbolt Four Swords: Shadow Flash
This near-Earth-tier technique had only four moves.
Not just simple—utterly basic.
But its surprise and lethality suited novices with no sword foundation. After two months, Ji Yanqing mastered its essence.
In the game, visiting Ye City’s market could trigger a side quest with these ruffians. Defeating them offered a “kill” or “spare” choice.
Killing added one infamy point.
Sparing added one virtue point, triggering a second quest: a New Year’s Eve massacre at Doctor Zhang’s home, where all five family members died.
The culprits? These ruffians, extorting vendors, gambling their earnings, and racking up debts.
Facing mounting debts, they gambled more, trapped in a cycle.
The underground casino’s rule was simple: unpaid debts by deadline were paid in blood.
As the deadline loomed, they turned desperate, slaughtering Zhang’s family and stealing their wealth.
In his first playthrough, Ji Yanqing spared them, indirectly causing the tragedy. In every later run, he ensured they never left his sight alive.
This time was no exception.
The girl, nearly fainting at the twitching corpses, steeled herself for her sick father, bending to retrieve the bloodied ginseng.
“Not even a thank you, Miss?” Ji Yanqing said, pulling her into his arms.
To avoid seeming heroic, he’d take a little advantage afterward, proving he merely coveted her beauty.
Their eyes met, sparking slight awkwardness.
Seeing her face, Ji Yanqing froze, struck dumb.
Her skin was creamy, her complexion snowy, her apricot eyes shimmering with autumn water, lashes gently curled—like a lotus rising from water.
It was Su Ningyue of Weiyuan Escort Agency.
Gazing into the Heir’s delicate, stunning peach-blossom eyes, Su Ningyue stood dazed, at a loss.
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